Okay, before I get started here, I'll just give you a warning: this is not a fairy tale. And while I admit that some fairy tales are super creepy - what is with all the kidnappings and runaways and murders? - I still stand by my conclusion that fairy tales are for sissies. Because most of them have happy endings. And I can't guarantee that here. So those of you who have been expecting a peaceful, loving little story had better back out now.
Let's go back to the beginning, shall we? Even though my life was about to become more messed up than I could ever imagine, that far in I was having a perfect summer. It was June, in California, and we were having the best weather anyone had seen in years, even for Los Angeles. I spent my days biking, surfing, or begging rides from my parents so I could go hiking in the mountains. It was an entire month of feeling like Snow White in her enchanted woods with the dwarves - oh, God, I just choked on all that cheese I had to swallow. From now on, I'm going to stop making princess references to keep myself from upchucking. I'll take it for granted that the rest of you are pleased about that.
Where was I? Oh, right: the beautiful countryside, the great weather, the perfect life, yadda yadda yadda. Let's just move on to the story.
The sky was a perfect blue, there were no clouds to be seen anywhere on the horizon, and it was hot-damn-hot outside. The palm trees I walked beneath didn't provide nearly enough shade from the sun's rays, and there wasn't any wind to alleviate at least some of the blistering heat. I cursed myself for not bringing a hat - it was a long walk home, and I still had to pick my dog up from the groomer's.
"Hey, Max!" a voice called from behind me. I turned around and saw a giant black Jeep slowly following me down the street, the driver grinning at me from behind the wheel. "Need a ride?"
"Definitely. I'm baking out here!" I said, grinning. While getting into a black car with someone in the middle of LA is normally a really, really bad idea, I would be crazy not to make an exception here. Common sense tells you that if the hottest junior at Lincoln Alternative High School offers you - a mere freshman - a ride home, you get in without complaint. And Sam Leland definitely merited the title of "hottest junior".
I jumped into the passenger seat, buckled my seatbelt, and looked over at Sam. "Thanks a lot. It's hot enough to cook eggs on the sidewalk."
He smiled widely and flicked his hair out of his eyes, Bieber-style. That gesture would have made any other dude look like a tool, but on Sam…I was practically drooling on his leather seats. "Glad I could help. Besides, I'd look pretty stupid driving this thing alone."
I raised my eyebrows. It was still a surprise to me that Sam even went to the bathroom alone; hordes of people followed him wherever he went. This was including his disgusting number of on-again-off-again girlfriends.
"So where to, Miss Ride?" he asked, putting on a fake English accent.
I laughed. "Marcie's Dog Parlor, if you please."
He gave me a weird look. "Is that where you get your hair cut?"
Well, considering the state my hair was in whenever he saw me, I guess I couldn't blame him for thinking that. No point in feeling insulted. "Nah, I'm picking up my dog. He got groomed today."
Sam looked surprised. "Oh, cool. I didn't know you had a dog."
Well, duh. Up until this afternoon I wasn't even aware that he knew my name.
He continued. "What kind is he?"
"A mix, but mostly black Scottie." Then I sighed. "And the biggest handful I've ever had to deal with."
Sam nodded understandingly. "I hear you. I have a golden retriever at home, and he can coerce us into doing anything without even having to talk to us."
I laughed. The irony in what Sam had just said was almost sickening. "Total has no trouble talking to us at all." Literally.
We stopped at the edge of the grooming parlor, a pleasant-looking brick building with a poster of a big-eyed bulldog on the door. I unbuckled my seatbelt and jumped out of the open Jeep. "Thanks a lot for the ride."
He shook his head at me. "This place is even farther from your house. I'll wait until you've got your dog."
Okay, I just don't do all that sappy stuff, but I defy you to not smile dumbly when a hot guy - two years older than you are, thank you very much - offers to wait for you while you collect your dog. But still, something told me I should be slightly suspicious. What had happened to all his various hangers-on? "You don't have to."
"Don't worry about it. All three of my sisters came home yesterday, and I'm trying to delay going back to my house as long as possible."
"Well, if you feel so inclined," I told him, trying to hide my smile, and went inside.
The interior of the groomer's was as nice-looking as the outside. I came up to the front desk, and the perky blond lady standing there smiled at me. "Hi, there."
"Hey. I'm here to pick up my dog. He had an appointment at three."
She nodded, making a mark on a clipboard. "Name, please?"
"Total."
The lady smiled patiently. "I meant your name, sweetie."
"Oh," I said, slightly embarrassed. "Max Ride."
She looked for my name on her clipboard, then frowned. "We don't seem to have a Max Ride on here."
"It's probably under my mom's name. Valencia Martinez?"
She checked again, then nodded. "Okay. Just wait here; he'll be out in a moment."
About a minute later, my tiny black dog barreled through the hall doors and practically flew into my arms. Before I could stop him, he'd slobbered all over my face, tail wagging frenetically.
"Ugh," I said, holding him at arm's length. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"
Total barked and grinned up at me goofily. He looked a lot cleaner than he had before we dropped him off, but Lord knew that wouldn't last. I don't even know why my parents had bothered getting him groomed, considering he'd mess himself up by evening. That dog couldn't go two feet without falling into a mud puddle.
I clipped on his leash and took him outside, to where Sam was waiting. I climbed in, putting Total between us, so he wouldn't fall out.
"This him?" Sam asked, smiling. I resisted the urge to say, Well, duh.
"Yep. Sam, meet Total. Total, meet Sam."
"Aw." Sam reached out to scratch him behind the ears. "He's really cute."
"I know, right?" Total said.
Sam did a double take, mouth gaping. "Did…did he just talk?"
I laughed, like it was all a big joke. "Definitely not. That was someone in the car next to us."
He looked at the convertible to his left, which seemed to have more chattering girls inside than the car could hold. But hey, this was LA. Everybody wants to feel like they're in a music video.
"Oh, duh. I need to get my ears checked," he said, shaking his head. "Where do I drop you off?"
"Um, 105 Palm Road," I told him. "So, where's Lissa today?"
The guarded expression on his face told me immediately I'd asked the wrong question. Lissa Brown was the most consistent of his girlfriends, but no one had seen them out together as of late. Jesus, I sounded like I was talking about Brad and Angelina.
But anyway. Lissa. Pretty, I had to admit, but she wasn't my favourite person. And by that I mean she acted like a bee with an itch.
He shrugged one shoulder. "Okay, don't repeat this, but we haven't really been getting along lately. She says I'm not enough fun, and she's just not…real."
I nodded understandingly, but I really had no idea what he was talking about.
"She's too obsessed with being popular. It's a lot nicer to hang out with someone who doesn't care what other people think." Here he sent a smile over at me. I wasn't sure if I should be pleased or insulted, but he seemed to think it was a compliment.
"Okay, here we are," he said, pulling to a stop outside my house. I could see him taking it in: the white stucco, orange-shingled roof, and round windows. It was probably small compared to what he was used to, but I loved my house. And then - oh my God, the best part - the divine aroma of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies wafted out. I had to restrain myself from sprinting into the house and inhaling them like oxygen.
"Thanks a lot for the ride," I told him, smiling warmly. Total jumped onto his lap and licked his face. Sam was a lot more tolerant of him than I was.
"My pleasure." He returned my smile, brushing a stray leaf off my shoulder. His hand was dangerously close to my face. My heart pounded in my chest. "Say hi to Ella for me."
"I will."
"Talk to you tomorrow?" he asked as I slid out of the Jeep.
"Definitely." Whoa. Observe and envy my sweet skills with dudes!
He grinned at me, then gunned the engine. He was gone in three seconds, leaving me staring blankly at his license plate.
Total looked up at me. "He seems nice. I commend your good judgment."
I nodded. "I'm glad I have your seal of approval."
For those of you thinking Holy freaking crap, that dog is talking to you! don't worry, that's normal. In fact, most of the time we have trouble getting him to shut up.
See, my dad's an experimental biologist. As near as I can figure, that means he tries to do weird things to animals, although he assure me he's never done any of his experiments on humans. Total was a project that he and his scientist buddies worked on for months, and they all consider him to be their greatest success. Since he wasn't much use at the lab after their experiments were over - and he annoyed the heck out of all the scientists with his incessant blabbering - they let my dad keep him. There were times when I wasn't sure if I should be grateful to them or not.
Total ran to the door and looked pointedly at me. "Well, hurry up and let me in. It's hot out here."
Unfortunately, it wasn't much cooler inside. My parents seemed to have been experimenting on the air conditioner, because it was almost too muggy to breathe. My little sister, Ella, was flopped on the couch, fanning herself with a Bed Bath and Beyond flyer.
"Hey," I said, flopping next to her. The TV was turned to a rerun of The Bachelorette. Ugh.
"Hi," she replied, waving lazily. "I swear to God, if it gets any hotter I'm going to melt."
"I hitched a ride home with Sam Leland," I told her. "He said to say hi."
That perked her up instantly. "He did? He knows my name? Oh my God, was he driving that really huge Jeep?"
Ella, like every other eighth-grader at her school, knew every intimate detail of Sam's life. I could tell she was getting ready to whip out her cell phone and inform every single one of her classmates of this new development.
I was about to tell her that obsessions were unhealthy when another voice came from the kitchen. "What do you mean, you hitched a ride?"
It was my mom, poking her head out of the kitchen to stare at me. I groaned inwardly. Sure, my mom was awesome, but there are just some things you don't tell parents. "I was walking home from J.J.'s, and he offered me a ride home. No big deal."
She looked a little suspicious, but let it slide. Thank God. "Well, if you say so." She took off her apron and laid it on the back of a chair. "Listen, there's something your father and I have to talk to you about. But seeing as he's late -" Here she huffed, looking annoyed, "it'll have to wait till he gets home."
I frowned. Was it just me, or did that sound incredibly ominous? And I really did not need anything harshing my mellow right now. Ha. I remember the first time I read that expression, and thought it said marshmallow. I love marshmallows. They're like little bites of white kitten.
Anyway.
While we waited for my dad to come home, Ella helped my mom with dinner. Because my cooking skills amounted to that of a rock's - and the last time I tried, I set a dishtowel on fire - I did not.
They were making pizza from scratch, and the only thing I was allowed to participate in was the pounding of the dough - because apparently, I'm very good at punching things. Ella practically made the whole thing herself, because she's such an incredible cook.
It was done within the hour, but for someone who eats as much as I do, it felt like days. By the time my dad finally came home, my stomach was growling loud enough to be heard the next state over.
My dad, Jeb Batchelder, looks nothing like Ella or me. His glasses almost always have a crack in them, and he always looks distracted. Side effect of being a scientist, I guess.
Okay, around this time you're probably getting confused. My last name is Ride, my mom's last name is Martinez, and my dad's last name is Batchelder. Weird, right? Well, there was an accident at the hospital the day I was born - neither of my parents ever told me exactly what happened - and in the aftermath, they couldn't find me. Like all the other lost kids, they put me in foster care. When I was four, I realized I didn't have a last name - or even a full first name. So I chose my own, Maximum Ride. And when my parents found me at age six, I didn't feel like changing it.
"Hey, dad!" Ella said cheerily.
"Hey, Jeb." I said, somewhat less cheerily. What can I say, I don't do perky.
"You're home!" Total cheered, barreling into the kitchen. "Time to feed me!"
Jeb sighed and ignored him. We've all gotten pretty good at that over the past few years.
"Hi, Val," he said to my mom. She smiled back as she sprinkled cilantro over the pizza, then set it on the counter to cool off a little.
I don't know why I call my dad Jeb and my mom Mom. It's weird, but I guess I just never got into the habit. Besides, Jeb doesn't seem to care. And Dad doesn't seem to fit him.
Jeb sat down at the table and started to sort through the massive pile of papers stacked there. "Max, would you do me a favour and go get the mail?"
"Do I have to?" I groaned.
He gave me one of his stares.
"Fine, fine." I hauled myself up from the couch and grumbled my way to the front door. I grabbed the pile of letters sticking out of the mailbox and retreated back into the house.
Let's see - bills, bills, two for Mom, one for Jeb, and - that was new. Two official-looking envelopes addressed to both me and Ella. I checked the return address - it was from somewhere in Canada. Why the heck are those crazy Canadians sending letters to me and my little sister?
"Hey, what's this?" I asked Jeb, waving the envelopes around. To my surprise, he paled and cast his eyes towards the ceiling, like he was praying for me to suddenly disappear. This immediately set off little alarm bells inside my head. "What are these, Jeb?"
He ran a hand over his face, let out a deep sigh, and instead of answering turned his head and called into the kitchen, "Ella? Val? Could you come in here, please?"
A few moments later, they both came into the living room, Ella still wearing her oven mitts. My mom looked questioningly at Jeb. "What's going on?"
He hesitated a moment. "I think it's time to tell them."
She stared at him. "I thought we were waiting until the entrance exams came?"
Jeb held up the two envelopes. "They just did."
Mom's eyebrows raised. Then, "All right, then."
She sat down across from us and interlaced her fingers on the kitchen table. Oh, no. The interlacing fingers. That meant bad news. "Max, Ella, for the longest time your father has been working on an experiment. Every time he's tried in LA, there have been no results. So he wants to try it somewhere quieter, with a different climate, somewhere he'll be undisturbed."
I nodded slowly. That made sense, at least. "So what does this have to do with the envelopes? What are they?"
Jeb looked apologetic, as though he knew we weren't going to like his answer. "Those are entrance exams. To Canada Founders Independent School."
That, on the other hand, made no sense whatsoever. Ella and I exchanged a glance. "Why would we be getting entrance exams from a private school in Canada?"
"Because," my mom said steadily. "We're moving."