Awww yeah, Scars is up. I worked on this for days. So enjoy, my minion/reviewer/people…. Things.
Max, Fang, Iggy, Gazzy, and Nudge are all fifteen. Ella is fourteen, and Angel is nine. Thought you ought to know.
I dedicate this chapter to my midget; you know who you are.
MaxPOV
"Max, we've found a family that will take you."
Well, that was unexpected.
My jaw felt like it might hit the floor at that, but in a show of nonchalance, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. I was sitting in front of some agent's desk at the adoption agency, and until now, I hadn't known why they'd called me here. Probably to tell me sucks, bitch, you're never gonna be adopted. But in more formal, government-y words.
See, I'd been stuck around this place since they'd put my dad Jeb behind bars. Colorado State Penitentiary, ladies and gents, home to my psycho father for hopefully forever. He got put behind bars three years ago. For those three years I'd been bouncing around from foster home to foster home because no one wanted to deal with me: big daddy issues, rule-breaker, horrible unloving foster-daughter, "impatient violent cretin." I've been called worse. I didn't mind that no one wanted me; I liked it that way. And now all of a sudden someone wanted to adopt me, knowing who I was and what I've done?
"They're- well, they're wealthy, and they're adopting several other children, too, roughly six," said the agent. (His name was Dean or something, I never cared.) Great, rich snobs and six other brats to deal with. "The mother is named Dr. Valencia Martinez, and she has a biological daughter named Ella." Let's make that seven brats.
"When do I move?" I questioned flatly. I give these people maybe a week before they kick me out.
"In a couple days," he answered. "We still have papers to sort out."
I shrugged. "Seeya, Don. I'm packing." I rose without asking to leave (as if I ever would) and while I made my way down the hallway, forced to watch all these other happy kids meeting their new happy parents, and resolved not to get close to this new family. I haven't trusted anyone in five years.
"It's Dean!" he shouted after me.
"I don't care!" I yelled back, and slammed the door to my room.
FangPOV
"Nick, someone wants to adopt you," the agent in front of me said, and I didn't even bother to lift my head from glaring a hole in the table.
"It's Fang," I muttered, picking at the torn sleeves of my sweatshirt. Normally I wouldn't even say a word, but for God's sake, I hated my real name and since the people who gave it to me were dead, why keep it anyway?
He sounded resigned and sighed. "Right. Fang. I know you're upset about your family, but we can't keep you here forever-"
"Don't talk about my family," I ground out. That familiar spike of pain shot up my chest, and I dug my nails into my palm.
"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to live with these people, like it or no. Dr. Martinez is a kind woman, and you'll have new brothers and sisters-" I don't want any new brothers and sisters, Maya is my sister- "so please, please try to get along. Give them a chance."
"No," I replied obtusely, tugging the sleeves of my sweatshirt back down over my wrist. If they saw what I hid there, I'd be sent to a shrink.
I do not need a freaking shrink.
NudgePOV (Prepare for OOC-ness on purpose. Bear with me for a while.)
"I don't want to go," I hissed. "She'll hate me. I bet she doesn't even want me. I bet you bribed her. You did, didn't you? Why would she even want someone liked me?"
"Monique, I assure you, she is a very caring person, and she won't judge you for what you've done," the agent soothed. Like hell they won't! I'm a kleptomaniac! Thievery is my thing. It's so easy it became a hobby. I take what I want and do what I want and I've been arrested a few times, but I don't care because nothing like that ever mattered to me after I lost my parents.
All the foster parents I've had have kicked me out. They apparently couldn't handle "me and my delinquent ways." Se here I was, getting shipped off to another family that was gonna reject me like that.
"I'll be sure to say I told you so in a few months," I fumed and stalked out.
GazzyPOV
"Could you guys please be good for this family?" the adoption agent begged. I snorted- maybe in his wildest dreams.
"I dunno, will they family be good for us?" said Iggy coolly. Typical Ig, my bling twin brother- our little nine-year-old sister clung to his hand like her life depended on it.
We'd been on the run up until four months ago. Our stupid, abusive, drug addict parents had finally overdosed, and we were glad to see the backs and the death of them. We didn't wait until the people in suits came for us to take us to a place just like this; we ran away and left our parents to rot. But one night we slept in a park, and the police found us and took us here, just four short months back. We'd been to just one family so far and were promptly given the boot after it was discovered just how devious we could be. It involved a small (totally harmless but hilarious) land mine and getting arrested, and also three boxes of stolen Twinkies. You don't wanna know. See, Ig and I were pyromaniacs of a sort. Angel was our little apprentice, but the explosions didn't really appeal to her, so we passed down to her our knowledge of theft, which we were damn good at.
"Just try not to blow up the house, okay? This lady's very nice, and so is her daughter. There'll be three other kids being adopted too."
"Big house, huh?" I asked casually.
"She's wealthy."
Though he couldn't see the grin I gave him in return, Iggy grinned at me. "Rich? Oh, we'll give them a chance, you bet."
A WEEK LATER:
MaxPOV
The lobby was empty aside from me and the secretary, whom I was facing, holding my skinny little near-empty backpack. Apparently my new "family" should be here anytime now. And I was so excited! Enter sarcasm, my only friend.
"Maxine Batchelder?" said a woman's voice. I kept my arms crossed and did not face her. I never replied to that name. If she ever calls me that again, I will strike her down where she stands and regret nothing. Batchelder is my father's last name and Maxine is the one he gave me; they belong to him, not me. Maximum Ride is my name.
The woman called my name again, and the secretary said, "Oh! Sorry Dr. Martinez, she's standing over there. Max! Why didn't you answer?" she scolded lightly.
"Max is better," I replied flatly, turning around. "First thing about me you should know, Doctor, is that my name's Maximum Ride." There was a woman of about thirty standing there. She had warm brown eyes, dark brown hair, and tanned skin.
"Fine with me, Max," she said with a welcoming wave. Good, she's a quick learner, at least. "I'm Valencia Martinez, your foster mom."
"And I care," I said sarcastically.
"Good, you have a sense of humor," she laughed, grinning. Um? That was supposed to offend her, not make her laugh. I gave her my death glare, but she didn't even flinch. That normally made people cower in fear! What is wrong with this lady?
When I was silent, she beckoned for me to follow her out the door. "Come on, there's someone- two people, actually- I want you to meet. We'll pick up the other four and then head home." I reluctantly walked out the door with her, and there was a big white car out there, that looked like it could hold quite a few people.
She seemed nice enough, not the snob I'd imagined. However, I had a reputation to keep and a house to get kicked out of. I climbed inside the car, and in the front seat, there was a mirror image of Dr. Martinez in the front seat, but way younger. Must be Ella- they'd told me about her, but not the other kids. She smiled brightly at me. "Hi, Max!" Ugh, she was so disgustingly happy. I just nodded back, glaring a little, but her smile didn't even falter. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. Too brave for their own good.
In the back seat next to the window, there was an African-American girl with crazy curly hair and dark eyes. I lifted my chin towards her, in the signal of mutual angry people, and she just glowered at me. Oh, her unfriendliness was so comforting. I didn't have to play Mr. Relatively-Nice-Guy with her, no sir.
I got in the back seat and sat at the window across from her and let the waves of I don't really like you radiate off me and kept my face in a scowl. Dr Martinez got in the driver's seat and said, "Max, those is Monique and Ella," she said warmly.
"Don't call me that," interrupted Monique. "My name is Nudge."
"Why?"
"Because I said it was," she said with a glower, and receded back into her Nudge-bubble. Dr Martinez shrugged and buckled into the driver's seat. She doesn't ask questions or pry; that makes a lot of things easier.
"Well, we're keeping the other kids waiting," said Dr. Martinez, and turned the key in the ignition. I settled back in my seat as we drove out of the parking lot- oh, joy, more people to make my life more of an annoying hell that it was already! I couldn't wait. Detect the utter sarcasm and loathing I put into that sentence?
If not, you should really stop reading. Right now.
A long while later, we stopped outside a bug bus station that had a middle-aged lady in a suit- presumably an adoption agent- and a tall boy dressed in black standing in front of it. The good doctor got out of the car, shook the lady's hand, and they chatted for a bit, and then she turned to the boy. He nodded impassively as Dr. Martinez introduced herself, and they headed towards the car.
He stuck his head in through the door, looking around, and I studied his face. His skin had an olive tone to it, his shaggy black hair was in desperate need of a haircut and fell into his face at several places, and his dark eyes were absolutely flat. Black, black, and more black. Coincidence? Maybe. Dyed hair? Probably.
He looked at Nudge and I in our little angry people coven, his face emotionless, and then at the front with ever-smiling Ella. It was either he sat in the empty row of three in front of us, next to Ella and her… bubbly-ness… or he sat back here, with two scowling people who pretty much didn't like him on sight, and he knew it.
So naturally, he chose the back seat.
He sat in between Nudge and I, tossed his backpack into the trunk, and assumed a deadpan stare out the window.
Okay. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Quiet has entered the car.
Dr Martinez went through the introducing drill, and apparently, his name is Nick Walker. He said only three words in his deep, rough voice- "Call me Fang." Does Dr. Martinez pick kids with nicknames on purpose?
We left for the final destination- another adoption agency, but in a town about an hour away. An hour. In a car. It didn't exactly fly with me, but I kept my mouth shut; I show no weakness. Inwardly, I was freaking out. Damn claustrophobia.
After an hour of silence and an unplanned glaring contest with Fang- he looked down for a second and I immediately took the opportunity to give him my Ultimate Glare Of Doom and Destruction, which he matched- there were three more kids in the car, in the seat on front of us. Their names were James, freakin' Zephyr, and Ariel (they clarified cheerfully that their parents had been druggies and named them while high) but their nicknames were Iggy, Gazzy, and Angel. The twins had a history of illegal bomb making and theft, it seems. Gazzy was short for "The Gasman." I really, really don't want to find out. Angel fit the little girl's looks perfectly- but according to her brothers, not her personality. She had blond hair and big blue eyes like her brothers, and she was, honestly, adorable.
They all had blue eyes, actually, but Iggy's were… clouded over. Blind. Despite that they told us why they were here, and their various crimes, (unlike Nudge, Fang, and I) they wouldn't say anything about it. Uncomfortable subject, I guess- I know what that's like.
They seemed a lot less angst-y and reserved than Fang and I, but once we were in the car and on the way 'home', they only talked to each other. They joked and smiled a little, but not at the rest of us, and I didn't blame them. It seems we all had trust issues.
FangPOV
It's official. I hate this.
Angel? No doubt adorable, no doubt annoying.
Ella? Too damn cheery for my taste.
Nudge? So far, angry and quiet, but we'll see what happens.
Gazzy and Iggy? Trouble. Double trouble. Probably gonna set me on fire eventually, among other things.
And Max. Lean, mean, has a good death glare, one to match mine. She's quiet, but she's got... nice... brown eyes.
And she resembles Maya so much it hurts to look.
Allow me to explain the 'Maya' thing- she's my twin sister.
Correction: was my twin sister.
Some insane-mass-murderer man killed my family.
I'd been at a party with some friends, and I stayed later than my curfew. Believe it or not, I once had friends and a life and actually socialized with people. So this guy decides to rob our house while my mom, dad, and sister were sleeping. I'll admit we had money; we weren't rich, but also not the poorest people around. My parents head him break in and went downstairs with no weapon and got shot on sight. Maya woke up, and… I don't like to say what happened after that.
But before he could get anything of value, our neighbors had called the police, and he disappeared. I came home to a house surrounded by police cars, tape, and crying people. I saw her body. Maya's. The image is etched permanently into my brain.
After that night, I wasn't the same, obviously. I curled in on myself, lost respect and friends, shut everyone out. I could've done something if I'd been there that night. I was an idiot.
So I began to cut to lock the pain out, along with everyone I knew.
We stepped outta the car and gave the house a good, long look. It was one of those two-story-tall, neat lawn, clean-looking houses. Pretty roomy, it looked like. "Here we are," announced Dr. Martinez somewhat grandly. "Home sweet home. I'll give you all a tour and then you can unpack." I almost snorted. That last bit would take about point-five seconds.
We walked through the front door into a nice, spacious living room. Nice TV, too. Too bad I never watch anything. We passed through the kitchen, looked down a short hall to where Dr M's office and room lay, and were shown the stairs to the basement. In the living room, the staircase off to the side led up into a hallway with three doors on each side- bedrooms? They turned out to be such. "First door on the right is yours, Max," Dr. Martinez said, stopping in front of a dark wooden door. She opened it, and we all peered inside, Max in the front.
It was dark purple, pretty large and simple, with two tall windows at the front that looked out on the street. Max gave it a slightly appreciative once-over and tossed her bag next to the grey-sheeted bed. "It's, uh, nice," she said with an awkward throat-clearing.
"Fantastic! Let's go to the other rooms." She showed us Ella's room, which was connected to Max's by a bathroom, and Iggy and Gazzy's, last in the hall. Theirs was plain blue, like mine. I approved of this greatly and didn't show it. So far I had a record of approximately three words towards these people and that was hopefully not gonna change for the rest of the day. On my side of the hallway were also Nudge and Angel's rooms, pale green and yellow, respectively.
"Okay, I want to talk to all of you now," she said, a previously unheard tone of warning in her voice. We all looked up. "I'm not gonna pretend that you're all perfectly innocent kids. I want no explosions, no thievery, no serious physical fighting. You're good kids, or you were at some point, so it's in you nevertheless. And you'll home schooled until I'm sure that you can all behave in a learning environment." She looked pointedly at Max, and I when she said this, and I just stared stonily back. But thank God we didn't have to go to school every day- eight people was more than enough for me. I miiiiight have gotten kicked out of school for excessive fights. What can I say? Gotta let off steam.
Just like that, the serious tone was gone. "You'll need new clothes, right? We shop tomorrow." There was a groan from Max, Iggy, Gazzy, and I. Ella and Angel seemed excited, and Nudge allowed herself a little smile. I hate malls, all those places with large amounts of people. I'm a bit of a huge introvert.
MaxPOV
Okay, I must admit. This was kinda a lot better than I expected.
No one shoved their conversation on me, the house was big enough to avoid people in, my room was nice, and did I mention that she gave us each a friggin' iPod shuffle? I've never owned anything that expensive, and they're only fifty bucks, so that tells you a lot about my previous lifestyle.
As I've said, my room was a great place to disappear and hide from everyone, which is what they were all doing right now. The only place we were forced to collide as a cohesive unit that night was at the table.
And let me tell you: Dinner was… an occasion.
What do you get when you take three angry silent kids, two guys who can't stop cracking admittedly funny jokes to each other, their little naïve sister, a girl who keeps trying and failing to make conversation, and her mother who makes fucking awesome tacos?
Some awkwardness slapped between to slices of awkward to create and awkward sandwich drizzled in awkward sauce.
The only reason I stayed at that table was to eat Dr. Martinez's awesome Mexican food. I have a feeling that as a foster family we weren't gonna last long if things always went like this.
Success!
So yes, that was the first chapter. I'm excited for this and feel like I did a decent job, so whether you like it or hate it, review! Constructive criticism is always appreciated.