Important: Please read the second AN at the end of this chapters. Thanks!

I re-did this first chapter; I hope you guys like it. It's not very meaningful, just a chapter to start the story rolling. Having said that, I love any advice or comments you have to give me, so please Review!

Max uses 'bad' language in this story. Not overly much, just some here or there. It doesn't bother me in the slightest, but some people may be against it. For those of you who are, this is just a notificiation. n_n

I can't rightfully say the chapters will all be this long; most will probably be shorter, but I'll see what I can do.

For those of you who asked for this;

Max's Outfit- .com/cgi/set?id=25308929
C/P that into the adress bar. If it doesn't work, PM me or drop me a review and I'll fix it.

Disclaimer: Do ya'll really think I'm JP? Really?

Max POV

Allow me to tell you that my day started off worse than awful.

I was woken up at around 4 AM, the standard time that I wake up these days. I dragged myself out of bed, groaning, carefully avoiding the crap littering the floor of my room. I barley had time to finish all the other chores while doing my homework andsustaining a job. Don't expect me to have a lot of free time to clean my room.

For those of you who are standing to the side with your face screwed up into a 'what in the name of hell is that girl talking about' expression on your face- first off, that's not attractive at all. Second, I'm a maid.

After a lot of thought, I decided that the person who invented the maid is a idiot. I'd like to know who, exactly, invented the 'house maid', so that I can go and find them and then ask them exactly what they were thinking, exactly why they hated me, and then hack them apart with a machete.

Not necessarily in that order, either.

I carefully dodged around the empty shampoo bottles littering my bathroom (man, I need to take out the recycling in here) and made my way over to the shower. I turned it on and waited impatiently for the water to heat up, tapping my foot and glancing at the clock so often it probably looked like I had a spasm in my neck.

My name is Maximum Ride. Max for short. Maximum is just to much of a mouthful, and sounds to formal for me, anyways. Plus, I got tired of hearing the sex jokes. "Maximum Ride… I bet she is."

… And my fist started to hurt from all the punches I gave off.

The Twins, my half-sisters, Ella and Lissa, are both fourteen and are like miniature versions of my step-mom, a lady that I love to loathe. One term to describe our relationship could be slave driver and slave. Bet you can guess which job I get in that nifty little phrase- and, for you morons who don't get it, I get the short end of the stick.

The water heated up, and I quickly undressed and stepped into the shower. I quickly washed my hair, and stood there for a few minutes, allowing the hot water relax my muscles. I breathed in deeply, enjoying the only relaxing part of my day. Not kidding; even sleep was uncomfortable. My bed was to small, so I was cramped in a small, tight space for a while.

I'm sure that you're really lost at this point, and if you aren't, good for you. For those of you who are still making that oh-so-attractive face in the corner over there, I'll sum this up for you. I'm the family maid. I do pretty much everything that my dearest mother and sisters wish. The only thing that I get out of this arrangement is pretty much anything that I want- not because my step-mom gives it to me or anything nice and kind like that, but because I do the bills, and, therefore, nobody will ever notice if I buy something.

Now that I think , that sentence sounds a bit bratty. " All I get is Whatever I want." Before you start thinking that I'm some rich snob, let me tell you that I slave away every day, generally rubbing my hands raw, and I don't get the least bit of gratitude or sympathy. Not from my family, not from my friends. My family because they're rich, stuck up snobs. My friends because I don't have any.

I gave a quiet, long sigh and stepped out of the water. I grabbed a towel and put it on my head like a turban so the water from my soaking wet hair wouldn't drip down my back. I took another towel for my body, and quickly dried myself off and looked over at the weather report I got daily on my phone. Since it was supposed to be around 60 today, and sunny, I grabbed a pair of lace-up combat boots, some shorts, and a long sleeved grey striped shirt and threw them on, grabbing my shades as I literally ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.

The only reason I got dubbed as maid is because I wasn't- and I quote- "Girly and proper enough to fit into modern society." And, again, I quote, "I'm doing you a favor, Maxine. (She still doesn't understand that my name is Maximum- apparently my birth certificate is wrong, and she is infinitely smarter than the doctors who wrote my name. I'm sure the only thing she's ever written is her signature on her credit card receipts at the mall.) You should embrace your only chance in the world."

To further impose her point, I am not allowed to eat at the table with them. I have to go to my room- if it could even be called a room. It's a walk in closet, but it's totally tricked out, thanks to the bills that I pay every month. Even though I cook the dinner that they eat, I still can't sit with them because of some stupid reason that I won't bother to explain for the sake of our sanity.

Regardless of my mom and sisters crazy ideas, there was one thing that we all agreed upon. Neither of us wanted to be seen in public together; I was fine with that- more than fine, really. Overjoyed is more like it. I didn't want to be seen with a snobby family like them, and they didn't want to be seen with a girl who didn't like to shop or wear dresses or paint her nails and squeal over 'How absolutely totally hot Tay Tay Lautners abs are!"

I quickly put two waffles into the toaster and pushed the button down so that they could cook. I then ran up the stairs to a room full of only clothes- Ella and Lissas closet. I randomly chose two carefully hung bags, which I had filled myself.

Since I have to do this every morning, I put the outfits into bags: Each bag had a purse, some other item, either a dress or a pair of pants/shirt/skirt, and some shoes, generally heels.

I ran to the bathroom and put the bags on the counter, not bothering to label them. As soon as I set them down, I ran back downstairs and grabbed the slightly burnt waffles out of the toaster, setting them on clean blue plates. I filled two glasses with milk and set them next the plates.

I then sprinted back up the stairs (and people wonder why I'm so fit. Heh.) and grabbed my mom's outfit. My mom, being the evil bitch she is, makes me chose, hand iron, hand wash, and lay out her clothes for her. I wash and chose them at night, and I iron and lay them out in the mornings. Now it was time to iron them; I was running late. I woke up at four, took around an hour to get ready, and now the clock was approaching five thirty. My mother gets up a 5:45, my sisters at six. Before I can leave for school, I need to clean their bathrooms, and clean their dirty dishes (not to mention the kitchen counter).

I finished ironing the clothes and sped my way back up the stairs to my mothers private bathroom. I hung them nicely on a hook, started the water for her, and then practically fell down the stairs.

I then started to make my breakfast, which was horribly simple. I grabbed two granola bars and a bottle of vitamin water. As I devoured my meal, I jogged outside and grabbed the mail. It took me a few minutes of hunting for the mailbox to get it, though, because we were new in this town -and also because our mailbox was mostly hidden in-between two bushes; whos stupid idea was that, anyways?

After I successfully found the mailbox and took the mail inside, placing it in a nice heap on the sparkling clean counter (courtesy of yours truly) I collapsed onto the oh-so-inviting couch in the living room. Deep breath in, out. In, out. It's peaceful, right now. Zen. I'm chill I'm-

"Maxine!" The high pitched, snarky voice could only belong to one person; my mother. "Get over here!" The voice grew in volume as the owner of the annoying, nasally thing became more and more impatient. "Now!"

Instantly, I was up off of the couch, jogging my way over to the stairs for the, what, twentieth time today? "I'm coming!" I yelled back at her, trying not the trip on the oddly small stairs in my haste to reach her. As soon as I walked into her room, I was assaulted with the sickening strong smell of perfume and makeup.

I puked a little in my mouth, using all my will not to gag and rush right back out. The woman I call my mother was sitting in a plush, and very pink, armchair, examining her numerous-times-over-botoxed face with some bedazzeled mirror. In her hand, she help two pairs of earings. Internally, I groaned.

"Maxine, dear, which earings do you like best on mummy?" Her fake British accent was –possibly- the most annoying thing about her. You don't know how many times I've had to explain to people that, no, my mother is not British, she just acts like it for who the hell knows why.

"Really, Maxine, I need to know." She put one on each of her ears. I snorted quietly; one was gaudy and featherly, resembling a cat toy. The other was as bright, luminescent green, resembling something that had a recent encounter with radioactive sludge.

Stifling my giggles, I pointed to the green one. "That one is…. Very flattering." Or it would be, if you repainted it, burned it, and stomped on it's grave.

Nodding, my mother flicked her fingers at me. "Go."

I clenched my fists and ground my teeth, but turned sharply on my heel and left, stomping down the stairs. I hated that, when she treated me like I was worthless. I was equal to her, at the very least.

With a groan, I thundered out of the house and onto my bike. Screw cleaning the bathrooms and kitchen, I'll do those when I get home.

When I had time.

If I had time.

When I say bike, I mean Motorcycle, It's the one thing my mother bought for me- she didn't want me polluting her air with my presence, so I have to drive myself everywhere. I'm most definitely breaking the speed limit towards the new school; who needs rules when there aren't any cars on the street but you? This is the third new school this year, and the reason we moved is possibly the stupidest ever. My sisters found a better mall in this town than in our old one.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

A new school generally means a new start, or, at least, it does for all of those positive kids who have what they want and don't, in fact, have to work 24/7 so that they won't get kicked out of their homes. For me, however, it's just a new chance to see how many times the principal can call home to talk to my smother before he realizes that she really doesn't give one teeny tiny shit about my well being. The only good part about the new schools, in my opinion, was the change. I'm a person who can't stand to stay put for long periods of time, so I guess you could call me familys stupidity (in this instance) A good thing.

The school doesn't seem all to nice- or, maybe it's the fact that it looks a little bit too nice that makes it look a bit more imposing than a school painted a bright, ugly yellow should. There are large stairs that lead up to a very large, very bright yellow building. I swear that if someone dropped some mustard on this place, you would think it was just a glob of paint.

There are only a few windows, and I would bet my entire salary for a year that the window were purposely arranged in the shape of a happy face. An arch in front of the stairs said "Welcome to Yenly Preparatory School- Have a Great Day!" In bold, curly letters, which didn't help my apprehension of the place of entering the huge block of I don't even.

The perfectly groomed trees and shrubs around it didn't make me like the place any more than I did; which, at the moment, was several thousand points below zero. There were two courtyards off to each side of the school, both of which consisted of a few square planters, which you could sit on. There were trees in the middle, and a shaded gazebo area with around 7 benches spread evenly around. I could faintly make out a forum in the back, painted the same horrible shade of yellow as the school.

I was already late to class- my sisters, being younger than I, started later in the day. Since my entire night had been occupied by filling out tranfer forms for my sisters and I to a gym, scrumming the mold off of the outside of the house, and cleaning my room until I could faintly see a floor, I didn't get much sleep. Right now, missing first period in favor of getting a little bit of sleep didn't seem to be such a bad idea.

As I started walking towards the shaded gazebo, hoping that nobody would be their to distract me from my nap, a guy on a motorcycle pulled into the spot right next to mine with a squeal, narrowly missing me.

"Yo, watch it!" I snapped, turning my body to face him, hands clenched into fists already. What can I say, I already got angry really easily. A tired and cranky Max is even worse than normal and cranky Max.

"Sorry 'bout that. Hey, from one guy to another, you should really cut your hair- you like a girl." I snorted at this- did I really look that much like a guy? I have boobs, for the love of god! I looked down at myself and mentally facepalmed; I had worn a large jacket, (a mens one, no less. Hey, they're comfy!) as I rushed out- no wonder he though I was a guy, I was tall, had no chest in the sweater, and had a motorcycle. Although the last one is sexist to an annoying amount, it's a reason. "Wow- nice bike! What model?" While the guy fawned over my bike, I took in his appearance. He had blond hair that was spiked up with a liberal amount of gel, and was dyed black on the tips of the spikes. He was pale, but not zombie pale. There was one earring in his left ear- on some guys it would look gangster or punk, but on this guy it didn't look all that bad. Actually, if I'm being honest, it looked pretty good.

Then I took in my appearance again; Did I really look that boyish? I mentally shrugged; I didn't really care either way. And as amusing as it was to watch him circle gleefully around my bike, muttering phrases such as 'oh man, oh man" and "sweeeett ride" or "Holy mother of god this bike is a thing made from heaven" I felt that, from 'one guy to another', I should probably tell him I was a girl.

"I'm a girl, you douche." I told him while walking away toward a break in one of the hedge walls that looked good for a nap. "And don't touch my bike. I just cleaned it, and I don't want fingerprints all over it." I called back to him over my shoulder, taking off my jacket due to the sudden heat that beat down upon my back as I stepped out of the shade.

The guy, however, jogged up next to me. He looked me over, surprise blatantly written on his face. After a second, falling in step with me, he spoke. "Are you new here?"

"Yes, and I'm trying to find a place to get some sleep. I had a late night…" I trailed off, hoping he'd take the hint and leave me alone. Like most people I've met, he didn't.

"Where are you going?" He was watching me, a curious expression replacing the surprise.

"Somewhere where it's quiet." I said, pointedly glaring at him, putting stress on the word 'quiet' hoping that this time he'd get my oh-so-obvious hint.

"So, just to clarify, your ditching your first day at your new school?" Shocked, maybe a little amazed. I snorted, kicking a rock with my foot as I stepped over the curb of the parking lot and onto the neatly trimmed grass of the field. I pulled a face; trimmed grass always annoyed me. I love the tall grass, the untamed grass, that you could lay in for hours and not be seen unless someone looks down on you.

"No, I'm just walking away from the school because I intend to magically teleport to it. No shit I'm ditching, Sherlock." Stupid people. I wonder what he'd do if I punched him.

"Wow." Said the guy, staring at me in a way that made me feel like an experiment. "You're sure you're a girl?"

"Yes! And wow what? And who are you?" This guy was starting to tick me off- majorly. I stopped, whirled to face him, and crossed my arms, glaring at him. And belive me, my glare is pretty intense.

"Well, I haven't seen anyone that would fit in with us this well since Fang came, and that was, like, a year and a half ago. I'm Iggy." He hastily stuck out a hand, hoping to difer from my glare.

Iggy and… Fang. Interesting names. "Max. And fit in with who?" I said, staring pointedly at his hand until he took it away- I wasn't here to make friends, and I didn't need nor want any.

"Our group." Said Iggy, nodding towards the crack in the hedge that we were heading to. "We convene our meetings in there- when we have them, that is. Then we just ditch the whole day. But today were only ditching first and second period, because there's a test later. You should hang with us. I can tell already- your one of us."

I hesitated. "Sorry, no." I turned away, walking away towards the quiet hedge in the back of the school. The guy gave a snort, muttered something, then called, "See you around!" before I heard is soft footfalls patting away at an even pace.

I walked my way to the back of the school, thankfully encountering nobody, I thought about his offer again. For a second, and only a second, I believed that maybe I should've gone with him, seen what was there.

I shoved that thought out of my head- Like I said, I wasn't here to make friends.

Fang POV:

As Iggy walked into the enclosure, I could tell something had happened. His brow was furrowed, deep lines etched into his forehead as he shuffled forwards in concentration. He seemed, after a minute, to notice me there. He glanced over at me, nodded his head once in greeting, and then sat down and continued to brood.

"What's up, Ig?" My voice came out quietly, a natural thing for me. "And Angel, Nudge, and Gasser had a field trip or something to go to." He nodded absently before glancing up at me a few minutes later.

"I found this girl, man. She'd be perfect for us –our group- and she just blew me off." He laughed, breezy, stunned. "Don't most people want to make friends, Fang?"

I glanced over at him, a slight crinkle of my nose indicating that I was thinking. "I suppose." I shrugged, not really caring. "If she didn't want to be in our group, leave it." Short, blunt. Iggy had a tendency to try and befriend those that didn't want it. Like me, for instance.

He sighed, still out of it. "Still. Something there just doesn't seem… right." I shrugged again, not one for words. After a minute he sighed, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence, him probably thinking about the girl. After a second, I nodded slightly, agreeing with myself; That girl was in for a surprise if and when Iggy decided to befriend her.

If you find any grammar errors or such, drop me a line so I can fix them n_n

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