I'm baaaaaaaa-aaaaaack!!

celebration begins

So I've been gone more than a year... so sorry! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. I love getting feedback, even if I don't respond.

Here it is: my latest work.

DISCLAIMER: This is not so much a Max Ride fanfic as a story inspired by Maximum Ride. I plan on turning this into a book some day. So please, please don't steal it. It's mine... all mine. evil laugh

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My name is Leah Ellis. Today is my sixteenth birthday. As of yesterday, I was a perfectly normal teenager- five foot eight, shoulder length golden brown hair, and blue-gray eyes. I live with my mom and dad and 1.4 siblings. Just kidding. Actually, I do have a younger brother named Spencer. He's twelve, but he has already passed me in height. He's sneaking up on my dad next.

We live in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex, in a typical nice house, in a typical nice neighborhood. South Carolina was our home for eight years before we moved here almost a year ago, but I already like Texas better. That's one way I'm different, I guess. Most people I know have lived in one area or even one house for their whole life, while I've circled the country- Florida to California to Indiana to South Carolina to Texas- and been outside it twice. As for me, myself, and I? Well, I'm kind of a paradox.

Although a tomboy all my life, I wear makeup frequently. My clothing oscillates between cute and... shorts and a t-shirt. I go to a competitive private school and am maintaining a 99 average my sophomore year, but sometimes I feel like I'm internally blonde. Like a coconut.

Anyways, today something happened that changed my life from fairly ordinary to... well, I can't even think of how to describe it. I have no idea what this change means, but somehow everything's different. Who knows, I may be running for my life tomorrow.

I put the pen down and looked around my second period classroom. Covenant Christian is a very small school- less than two hundred in the entire high school. Thus, only about eight students were in study hall with me. Across the table sat Monica Elway, my new best friend. Her long, gorgeous brown hair was draped over her face as she earnestly studied for our English final. On my right was Kristy Hoss, typing away on her laptop. Kristy always wears her blonde hair back in a tight bun. Her hairstyle, along with her black-rimmed glasses, conveys an air of austere intelligence that hints at her interest in the military but belies her warm personality. She smiled at me and tilted her head at my writing, but resumed her history homework. I glanced at one more person before resuming my account.

I hopped out of my dad's truck, slamming the door behind me. Trotting into the garage, I mumbled to my dad, "I'm not feeling very good. I think I'm going to bed." My dad kissed me on the cheek. "Good night, sweetie."

Not feeling very good? Try "about to explode from pain." My muscles were cramped up, my bones were aching dully, my head was pounding, and my mouth was dry. I collapsed into my bed without even changing. Although I was sweating enough to drown in, a bad case of the shivers sent me burrowing under my covers. What the heck was wrong with me? I would tell my mom... she could take me to the hospital and...

My eyes shut involuntarily and I fell headlong into unconsciousness.

I chewed on my pen, considering what I had written. Why? I asked myself. Why was I putting such incriminating words on paper? Why do I insist on throwing myself into such possible danger?

Simply because I don't want to forgot exactly how it happened. Yeah, I know, I'm brilliant.

My attention turned to a more pressing matter across the room... who happened to be sitting, back towards me. I sighed deeply, pondering the hopelessness of my plight. With this further complication...

Okay, every girl's allowed her harmless crush, right? In this case, said crush came in the form of Jason Lee, the new kid. He had come in halfway through the school year, having recently moved here from Chicago. I had known him for the long passage of three months before deciding that I liked him.

He isn't the traditional picture of a teenage idol, but I think he's cute enough. Slightly taller than me (which is rare), wavy dirty blonde hair, sky blue eyes, and a fair complexion. For those of you who are gagging, I'm a romantic sap. Get over it.

Not only is he cute, he's also into musical theatre- so few guys are- and seems to be a pretty strong Christian. He likes to read, write, and engage in philosophical discussions.

Check. Check. Check.

My only problem? Let's see... how about becoming his friend first. Without being totally, utterly, and painfully obvious. Which is really hard to do, considering my terrible modus operandi concerning guys.

After all, I am the first person here who was nice to him- I sat down with him his second lunch. And believe me, girls do NOT sit with guys here at friendly old CCA. Nope. Not unless they're of the flirting variety, and I definitely don't consider myself a flirt.

Of course, seating arrangements changed in a few weeks. Jason is a likeable guy, and he was soon part of a "group." But every once in a while he would sit by himself, at a row of empty tables. I hated it when he did that. Our conversation would go like this:

"Why do you insist on sitting by yourself? You can always join us." (This in reference to those I usually sat with- Kristy, Monica, and others.)

"Well... I don't mind being alone."

Kristy would pipe up, "Would you rather we go sit over there?"

"Um..." Here he would falter. "No."

Even though I'm painfully shy (really!), I don't like to see anyone alone. Especially the guy I like, but hey- I didn't like him right away, and I sat by him anyway. It's because, well... I know what it's like to be alone. Enough said.

But sometimes I feel like he's drawing back a little bit. Probably because I'm way too obvious. That I like him, at least. However, right now I had FAR more pressing matters to deal with than a crush.

I had dreamt one of those dreams where you're running as fast as you can from some enemy. I didn't know who the enemies were, and I didn't dare look back to find out. I couldn't outrun them, I just couldn't. Then with a jolt I remembered. Of course! My wings!

I was running into the wind, so as soon as I unfurled them I took off, gaining altitude rapidly. Whoosh, downstroke, whoosh, up stroke. But they had guns; I had just heard a bullet whistle past my feathers when...

... I woke up.

I fiddled with my pillowcase lazily while I mulled over the dream. The wings weren't surprising; I had always wanted a pair of my own. My deepest desire was to fly. If I were given one wish, it would be for a set of working wings. The enemies in pursuit- that could be attributed to reading so many Dekker books.

I yawned. That's me, too analytical even when I'm about to fall asleep.

A sluggish thought entered my head, letting me know that something was wrong. One of my limbs was smushed against the wall to my left, and one was stretched unnaturally far to the right. I frowned and tested my fingers, which were right in front of my face. My toes were at the foot of the bed, where they should be. I also discovered that my pajama shirt was missing. If my arms and legs were accounted for, then what...?

I went rigid from head to toe, eyes wide in the darkness. A chill quivered down my spine, and I wasn't the least bit drowsy anymore. The bumps on my back. The pain. The dream...

Breathing hard, I craned my head to look over my left shoulder. By the extremely dim light from my window, I could see a shadow- like a darker patch of blackness.

The shadow originated from my back.

I almost yelped; instead I whipped my head around and fiercely bit my pillow. My eyes stared wildly into nothingness. I couldn't be asleep, I was sure of that. Mentally, I commanded... whatever was up there to meet, almost exactly like I would "tell" my hands to touch. They did, and I propped myself up on my elbows, almost excited but still shocked. If they were wings, real wings, then that meant I could fly!

Well, only one way to find out. Instantly eager, I ran to the wall and flipped a switch, jumping in front of my dresser mirror at once.

The bell rang shrilly. All around me, books slammed shut and papers rustled. Only Kristy remained in her seat, fingers flying over the keyboard. She grinned at me as I stood up but kept typing.

Jason and I reached the door at the same time.

"Hi, Jason."

He paused to let me go ahead of him. "Hi, Leah, how's it going?" I considered as I stepped outside. I've never liked that question- in my opinion, there is no good way to answer. Especially considering this morning's events. I settled on a generic "Good." He held open the door for other students heavily laden with books. Some flashed a smile in thanks, others just walked through without acknowledging him.

"Actually, today's my birthday," I offered. His eyes flashed to mine, filled with a surprise that had nothing to do with not knowing. Something else was in his glance... trepidation? Warning? I couldn't tell. My brow creased. He looked down so quickly, though, that I wasn't sure I had seen anything.

Maybe I wasn't mistaken. His voice shook slightly as he said, "Really? Well, happy birthday." I kept looking at him from the corners of my eyes as we walked down the hall. "Thank you." An awkward silence ensued.

"So... uh... how old are you?" he asked with casual indifference. "Sixteen... seventeen...?"

"I'm sixteen."

He nodded to himself, then abruptly changed the subject. "I can't believe it's next week."

I blinked. "Huh?" I asked brilliantly.

He motioned to a poster we were passing. "It's next week. I just realized that the other day." Realization came, finally. He was talking about "Once On This Island," the musical we were both in. "Yeah. Seems like we're not ready."

"I don't think we are."

I nodded, conceding. "We do have a lot of work to do." I stopped at an open door. "See you later."

"Bye." I glanced after him curiously. What was that about? Our whole conversation was strained and uncomfortable. I turned into my geometry class, so preoccupied that I walked straight into a desk. I blushed and quickly sat down.

Normal lessons were over- next week would be finals, and all classes were in review mode. Since math was easy for me anyways, I soon tuned out my rambling teacher and picked up my pen.

On either side of my torso were two large, feathery... wings. The feathers were a light tan, banded with dark brown that was almost black. I swivelled, watching the... my... wings the entire time. Once again I gasped. Dried blood was splattered over my back, especially near the edges. I surmised that when my developed wings... came out, or whatever, the skin covering them had broken and bled. I studied where they joined my back and felt the hard ridged muscle.

Then slowly, tentatively, I slid my fingers across to where the feathers began. I was awed at how soft and smooth they were and at how they realigned themselves when I ran my fingers through them. Half afraid, I folded my wings in against my back as tightly as I could, then glanced over my shoulder. They fit in snugly next to my spine, leaving a barely visible bump that wouldn't be seen under most clothes.

The blood felt sticky on my back and in my feathers. I groaned when I realized that blood would also be on my sheets. What would I tell my parents?

Oh well. First things first. I needed a shower, badly. As I felt the hot water run down my back and through my wings in rivulets, I marveled at the new sensation. The wings felt like two extra limbs- it wasn't as if they were just there. The control I had over them was the same as my arms and legs, but the range of motion was different.

I pressed myself to the opposite wall and extended my right wing as far as I could. I then soaped up my hands and awkwardly tried to wash my feathers. I tried to picture birds in a birdbath- but I couldn't splash and flap in my small tub. Washing the blood from my back was a bit easier, but the hollows for my wings felt strange beneath my fingertips.

Finally, sighing with relief, I turned the faucet off. My hand paused inches from my striped, fluffy towel. How on earth would I dry my wings? My hair took long enough to dry, what about my feathers? I remembered reading about how birds waterproof their feathers by preening, spreading natural oils through them. I had done no such thing.

Toweling wasn't enough. Worriedly, I tried my hair dryer, but it wouldn't be fast enough. I still had to clean up the blood on my bed. I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut two long slits in an old t-shirt so my wings would poke out and quickly got dressed.

Stealth was key as I maneuvered the creaks in the floor. Holding my breath, I tiptoed to the back door and slipped out. The door shut with a small 'snick' behind me.

After awhile, I headed back inside and worked on the blood on my sheets. I considered throwing them away, but I would have to explain that to my mom. I wasn't telling my parents, not yet. After all, how would they react? Would they kick me out of the house? Would they sell me to a circus? Did they already know?

On my way upstairs, I glanced at a clock- already ten minutes to seven. I only had half an hour. I quickly pulled my hair back into a ponytail, then put some makeup on. Getting a new set of sheets from the linen closet, I re-made my bed and arranged the pillows to hide a small dot of blood on the comforter. I would have to fix that later.

With a grin I realized I hadn't changed out of my oversized, now sliced up t-shirt. I grabbed a uniform oxford shirt and skort from my closet and put it on, then ran downstairs to make my lunch. And eat breakfast.

My mom was already there, with a packed lunch for me to take. "Good morning, sweetie," she greeted me. "Happy sweet sixteen." I smiled nervously in return. She leaned forward to give me a hug, and guess what? I tensed.

Would she feel the tightly folded wings beneath my pale blue shirt? Did they make enough of a bump to be noticed? Well, I would have to find out sometime.

Gingerly I hugged my mother, almost wincing as I felt her arms on my wings. But she leaned back and said, "You've grown up so fast." I silently breathed a word of thanks. "I've got all your bags and cupcakes in the car," she continued as she glanced at the clock. "We're kind of running late."

I grinned. "Thanks, Mom. Hey, do you mind driving this morning? I don't really feel like it- plus, I've got to grab some breakfast." She nodded and headed to the garage while I rummaged around in the cupboard for a cereal bar.

The ride to school was normal. The first few periods of school have been normal. But now my life is anything but normal.

I shook my head in disbelief as I wrote the next line, even though I could feel the evidence on my back.

Because now I, Leah Ellis, have wings.