[introduction;;]
My legs ache in pain as I run, my heart pounds loudly in my head. It seems like he can hear it. I hope he can't. If he, or the others, can, then I'm in big danger. My wings spread out behind me, and I lift off the ground slightly to give my legs a well-deserved break.
Hear that? Yeah. I said it. Wings. Wings, you say? Yeah. I have wings. I can fly. And I'm being hunted. Hunted by an escaped rapist, hunted by scientists, and hunted by agents from a secret government organization who crave for my powers.
All I can do is run. Run, keep away from them, and try not to get caught by ANY of them. I hope I can find more of people like me. Flyers.
Oh, goodness, I'm being rude. My name is Maximum Sun. You can call me Max.
[chapter 1;;]
I wake up in my cozy bed, stretching my arms. I let my delicate iridescent wings stretch through the holes in the back of butterfly pajama shirt. I get up and head to the vanity dresser with a huge mirror just across from my bed. The purple walls let the white butterfly lights-covered dresser stand out. I grin at my reflection, showing perfect teeth. I give myself a once-over. No zits. After a quick brushing, my auburn hair is shiny and gorgeous. Actually, I have to say, the only thing about me that is flawed would be my coordination. I am constantly falling and tripping and dropping things. Oh well, I thought. If that's going to be my only flaw, then that's good. That can't ever get in my way. I thought again. Except for... I shook my head. I wouldn't call it a flaw. More like... A weakness.
You see, there are different types of Flyers. There are Watching Flyers, Moving Flyers, Seeing Flyers, Reading Flyers, and even more. On a Flyer's fifteenth birthday, a Flyer receives their power and their full wings. I'm a Moving Flyer. I can move things without touching them. But, it doesn't matter what kind of Flyer you are, because each has a weakness. A Flyer can be weakened by he presence of amber. Lucky for us Flyers trying our hardest to blend in with society, amber isn't as common as something like metal. But still. It's hard.
I get dressed, using one of the wing wraps my grandmother, a Seeing Flyer, gave me for my fifteenth birthday. I pull on my bra, and a long purple shirt and jeans. I look at the time on my kitty clock hanging on my wall. Ten thirty. I yawned. I had slept in quite late.
I hurried downstairs. My best friend, Jade, would be here soon. We are going on a shopping spree, since we both have gotten plenty of money from babysitting. I was about to sit in the kitchen, when I heard a car. I hurried to the window, expecting to see Jade's mom's green beetle bug. But it was just the mail truck. I sighed, opening the door. The man looked to be about twenty-five. He came up with a package, a strange grin on his face, like he knew something I didn't. "Here you go, Miss," he said, handing me the package. I took it from him, muttered some thanks, and shut the door.
I took the package into the kitchen, where my mom was. "Who's that for, Max?" she asked me. I looked at the package. The mailing address read, "Max Metah." No return address. I looked up at my mom. "For me," I said. My mother came to hover over my shoulder as I opened it. "Who from?" she asked. "I don't know. There's no return address." I cut open the packaging tape, and pulled open the box. Immediately, I felt weak, and weary. I was conscious just long enough to hold the object up, and see it. An amber necklace. Then blackness.