Max gets sent to an orphanage after her parents passed away. There, she meets a strange band of kids not unlike her and soon they become the best of friends. Then Jeb Batchelder appears and everything goes downhill after that. But Max is determined to rise above the challenge, and how far is she willing to go for her friends? Very.
Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride or any other characters associated with the story.
When they told me Mum and Dad died, I didn't shed a tear. I didn't even feel anything at all. It was just as if someone had told me that I had chocolate smeared on my mouth, or that there was going to be a football match later on in the afternoon. If they thought that I was going to cry my heart out, they were wrong.
The reason was kind of simple, actually. It was because my parents didn't care. I was nothing to them. I was just another fly on the wall, another mosquito buzzing around their heads. They treated me like a freak and if they even talked about me, it was as if I wasn't there.
And they brought me to the School.
So what if they died? It was still the same, or better yet, an improvement to my life.
So basically that's how I ended up here, holding Dr. Martinez's and gazing wide-eyed at the woman in front of me. The orphanage was huge and in shambles, but it looked welcoming and homey. There was a small playground at the back – sandbox and all, and I could hear happy shouts and somewhere in the distance a dog was barking.
"Hi honey, I'm Anne Walker," the woman introduced herself not unkindly. "There're many kids like you over here, and you can make many friends. You'll be really happy here," she promised. I nodded but I doubted her. Many kids like me? In terms of the existence of our parents, then yeah. But not like me.
"Valencia Martinez," Dr. Martinez said and held her hand out. Anne shook it. "Max's parents passed away in a terrible accident a few weeks ago," Dr. Martinez explained to Anne. "We have had a lot of paperwork to sort out."
"I'm so sorry," Anne said sincerely. "So, Max, am I right?"
I nodded. Anne turned to Dr. Martinez.
"Full name?"
"Max – " I cut Dr. Martinez off.
"Maximum Ride," I interrupted. That was the name I gave myself. I didn't like my old name. And I didn't want anything that could remind me of my parents.
"But isn't your name – "
"It's Maximum Ride. Max." I looked at her and clenched my fist that wasn't in Dr. Martinez's hand into a tiny ball. Anne opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Dr. Martinez interrupted her.
"Please, she's just really upset and has gone through a terrible loss. Go easy on her. She's just ten, Ms. Walker," Dr. Martinez said to Anne, in hope that she would understand. Anne smiled wryly.
"And here we have orphans here who are as young as two, Dr. Martinez," Anne said to her in a matter-of-fact tone.
"But you see, two is too young to understand. Ten, however, is an age where children can actually grasp the reality of it all." Anne nodded understandingly. She leaned down and looked me in the eye.
"So, should I call you Maximum? Or Max?"
"Max. Just Max," I said with a tone of finality. Anne laughed gently.
"You are quite the feisty one, aren't you?" she stated. It wasn't really a question, I could tell. She smiled wryly.
"What's feisty?" I asked. Anne laughed again. I couldn't get what she was laughing about. Was she really happy about something? "Why are you laughing?"
"You know what you remind me of?" Anne asked me, totally ignoring my question. I glared at her for not answering me.
"What?" I asked rudely.
"Me when I was your age," she said and smiled. She stood up straight and started interrogating Dr. Martinez. I badly wanted to ask Dr. Martinez what feisty meant but I didn't want to interrupt their conversation. That was one lesson that my parents had taught me the hard way – do not barge in when adults are talking.
"Age?" Anne said briskly, in a business-like tone. "Ten, was it?"
"Yes, ten," Dr. Martinez said.
"Any important medical illnesses or allergies?"
"None. The rest of the information is in the file here. Date of birth and all that." Dr. Martinez handed a file to Anne.
"Excellent. Alright then, Max, you can get settled in Room Magnolia. There's an empty bed there. I'd bring her up myself, but there're a few other kids waiting outside." It was a clear dismissal.
Dr. Martinez tugged my hand and we walked up the stairs through the hallway, looking for Room Magnolia. We didn't meet anyone on the way up, and from the noise coming from outside, everyone was probably playing at the mini-playground.
It was in the middle of the second story of the three-story building. A picture of a magnolia flower was taped to the door. Taped to the doors of neighbouring rooms were pictures of other flowers. Room named after flowers. How… nice?
"Room Magnolia," Dr. Martinez said. We were standing outside the door. She handed me my duffel bag. I took it with a word of thanks and put it on the floor. It was light – there wasn't much in it.
"Good luck, Max," Dr. Martinez said to me. That was when I realized what was about to happen.
"Don't go," I begged. "Why can't I stay with you? I want to stay with you."
She smiled at me kindly.
"Max, you'll be happy here. You'll make lots of new friends and maybe you can get over the loss of your parents," Dr. Martinez reasoned.
"What about the chocolate-chip cookies? You always bake them the best," I asked as a last-ditch attempt to convince her not to leave me at the orphanage.
"They have chocolate-chip cookies here too. I'll ask Ms. Walker to get some for you. For all you know, they could actually be better than mine," Dr. Martinez said. She smiled at me sadly. "I'll be back to check on you soon, don't worry."
"Is it because you don't want me?" I asked, my tone slightly accusatory, as the thought entered my mind. The orphanage – a place to dump all the unwanted kids. Was that it?
"Of course not!" she replied indignantly. "Where did you even get that thought? You are the sweetest, wittiest and funniest little girl I've ever known."
"Then why did you put me in here?" Dr. Martinez looked at me sadly.
"You won't understand, Max. You're just too young." I looked at her forlornly. "I'm so sorry, Max," Dr. Martinez said, and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm so, so sorry. Good luck. I'll think of you every day."
And with that, she left. I stared at the empty hallway, hearing her footsteps fade into the distance. Dr. Martinez was by far the closest to a family I've ever felt. And now she was gone.
"Bye," I whispered.
I stood there for a few minutes, just staring into space. Sighing heavily, I grabbed my duffel bag, turned around, and entered my new room. It was painted a cheery yellow, and there were three beds in the room and a single dark brown wooden dresser. The room was small, but it felt comfortable and, well, homey. I walked to the only unoccupied bed that was near the window and dumped my bag there. I sat on the bed beside my bag and started swinging my legs. Then I lay down experimentally. The bed felt comfortable enough.
I walked over to the dresser with my bag and started to unpack. I didn't have much, just a few pieces of clothing, a card I stole from my father's pocket, a picture of my family and a notebook and pen. Dr. Martinez had given me the notebook and pen. She told me that it could be an "outlet for any suppressed feelings" that I didn't want to share with anybody else. I had no idea what that meant and I hadn't opened it.
I looked at my family picture. My parents were sitting on a chair, and I was propped on my mother's lap. I had been about five years old then. It looked so… fake. The smiles plastered on my parent's faces – fake. The black hair on my father's head – fake. The jewelry adorned on my mother – fake. In fact, the only real thing was probably the expression on my face. I was wrinkling my nose in disgust, probably at the strong smell of my mother's perfume and father's cologne. I sighed. I didn't need a reminder of a horrible past.
I stood up, went to the window, and hurled the picture out as hard as possible.
Well, that was one piece of trash taken care of.
The dresser composed of three drawers. I opened the first one and found it full clothes that were either black or dark blue. Mostly black. I closed it immediately. The second drawer contained an assortment of clothes belonging to another guy. It was more general than the first. The third drawer was empty, and I claimed it as my own.
Looks like I would be sharing Room Magnolia with two guys. I hoped that they would be fun and not snotty like the kids in my neighbourhood.
"Is this yours?" I jumped and whipped around to see a boy about my age dressed in black standing a few feet away from me. He was extremely good looking – he had black eyes, dark hair and olive skin. He was obviously one of my roommates – the one who had all the black clothes. After doing a quick mental assessment of him, I realized that he was holding out a broken photo frame with my family picture in it. I scowled.
"Why did you bring it back?" I asked, annoyed. I strode over, grabbed the picture, went to the window and threw it out again.
"A thank you would be good enough," he muttered to himself.
"Well, thank you for bringing back a photograph that I had thrown away," I snapped. He looked at me curiously.
"You don't miss your family?" he asked. I shook my head vigorously.
"I hate them. I'm glad they're gone."
"You're weird."
"So are you."
"Why?"
"You're wearing black! And the weather's like so hot."
"What's wrong with that?"
"I don't know! No sane person would wear black on a hot day!"
"How do you know?"
"Well… Um… Actually… I don't."
"Then you're the weird one!"
"Why?"
"You called me weird for no reason!"
Then we both fell down on the floor laughing at the same time. At what, I didn't really know. The sound of his laughter made me smile. I was really sure that we were going to get along. We both sat on his bed side by side.
"Oh right. I'm Fang," he introduced and held out his hand to shake.
"Max," I said and shook it. "What kind of name is Fang?"
"I dunno," he replied. "Actually my name's Nick. But my friends call me Fang." My heart swelled in pride that I was already counted as one of his friends.
"So do I call you Fang?" I asked and crossed my legs, facing him. He nodded. "So how'd you end up here?" Fang's eyes cast downwards. I had obviously upset him. And I felt bad that I had done that.
"It's okay, you don't have to answer that," I said hastily, rushing my words. He smiled a small smile and started to swing his legs slowly.
"It's alright. My dad wasn't there ever since I could remember. And my mum was a drug addict."
"Oh," I managed. A silence enveloped us. Awkward or comfortable, I couldn't really say.
"Um… What about you? If you don't mind?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"My parents died in a car crash," I said simply. It was just as simple as that. "They were drunk. And they crashed into a tree. Died. I was at home, watching television when Dr. Martinez came in to tell me. She was the nicest person I know. Next to you, of course," I added. I didn't know why I had just gushed out a whole load of information to Fang. I didn't usually tell people about myself or anything personal.
"Oh. I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be," I told him. We lapsed back into silence again. I looked around, searching for something to talk about. My eyes landed on the remaining bed that didn't belong to Fang and I. "Who sleeps there?" I asked. His face lit up.
"The craziest guy ever," he said.
"That helps a lot," I answered sarcastically. He laughed.
"I like you," he stated. "You're fun."
"And I like you," I said. This was the first time I had ever been so honest with anybody.
"You're going to be my best friend," Fang suddenly announced. I blinked stupidly. He jumped off the bed and rummaged his drawer, looking for something. He turned back at me and smiled, triumphantly holding a Polaroid camera in his hand. He happily walked back to where we both were.
"My mum left this to me. There're only two shots left," he told me. "I've been saving them for something good." I felt extremely flattered.
"You shouldn't waste it on me," I said, alarmed. He smiled, flashing his teeth at me.
"I'm not wasting it," he said and jumped onto the bed next to me. He leaned towards me, held out the camera facing us, and before I had time to smile properly, it went snap!
The Polaroid coughed out the picture and Fang waved it around. After a while, the picture began to emerge and I started examining it. Fang was looking at the camera with the barest hint of smile on his lips and my mouth was pulled back into a slight grimace. I winced inwardly.
"You just wasted one shot," I told him.
"I didn't," he said. "It was a shot with my best friend." I decided not to argue any longer.
"I'm going to frame this, and put it on the dresser," he told me. I nodded.
"Then when we're all grown up, we can look back and laugh at how stupid we looked," I added. He laughed.
"Maybe we could get married!" he said.
"But I've only known you for less than an hour!" I protested.
"But we're going to be friends forever and ever," he told me.
"There's no such thing as forever and ever," I said.
"There is if you believe in it," he argued.
"Is not!"
"Is to!"
"Is not!"
"Is to!"
"Oh, whatever," I said, crossed. Fang smiled and hugged me. I was taken aback.
"You see, we're like best friends already. Best friends fight and make up," Fang said proudly. "My mum told me that."
I nodded. Just then, the resounding sound of a bell rang loudly through the house. Yeah, house. With Fang here, it didn't seem like an orphanage anymore. It wasn't like a place where unwanted children were dumped. It was more of a… home. A home with lots and lots of kids, that's all. I was less than an hour in and I already had a best friend.
"Come on, it's dinner time!" Fang said excitedly and pulled my hand. I jumped off the bed and followed Fang down the hallway, laughing, him still grabbing my hand. "I want you to meet some people! And there's going to be macaroni today!"
"Alright," I said. "But at this rate I wouldn't be able to eat."
"Why?" he asked, as we finally entered the dining room. A gigantic table was in the centre and lots of plates and cutlery and heaps of food was stacked in the middle. There were smaller tables around the room with chairs. My stomach growled as I took in the appetizing sight.
"You'd have pulled my arm off," I said and we both laughed.
I hope you liked that for a first chapter. I'm not writing the way a ten-year-old would think and talk, so I'm really sorry about that and I hope you don't mind. Reviews are loved. :D