Angel and Gazzy drop into our yard over my fence, jogging through the sickly yellow grass to where we sit around my fire pit. Their house is in the next neighborhood over. But it's not like that puts them any closer to being in Sterling Ridge, the rich neighborhood about three miles away from us. I watch them settle on the uneven ground and scan their faces.

Nudge, with her warm brown skin and dark hair streaked with bleach blonde. Pouted lips stained a dark red and a ring through the right side of her nose. She's always been the prettiest one out of any of us.

Iggy, lanky and pale, with sunglasses settled over his unseeing eyes. A dark gray button up half undone as he leans forward to spit.

Angel and Gazzy. They're siblings, with Gazzy being two years older at fourteen. I didn't like either of them at first glance when they moved in six years ago, but somehow their angelic looks and spunky attitudes worked their way into my brain, especially with Angel. I would never hang out with any other twelve year old.

And last, Fang. With his dark hair swept over his eyes as he nearly blends into the shadows. I find myself biting my lip and immediately release the small patch of skin from between my teeth.

"Max." Nudge is staring at me, her perfect eyebrows settled questioningly above her large chocolate eyes rimmed with long black eyelashes. "Did you hear me?"

I shake my head, pushing a stray lock of my dark blonde hair out of my face. "No. What is it?"

"She's saying that we need to go teach that punk kid down the street another lesson," says Angel, settling in by the fire. The hot pink streaks in her hair are fading a bit. She cracks a small smile, revealing the gap where one of her teeth got knocked out. "He won't leave Nudge alone again."

I smile too. Nudge turns one of the studs in her ear. "Little misogynist thinks I have to date him just because he asked me out," she says. I stand, and the others follow suit as I turn around my house and into the front yard.

I feel the back of my neck begin to trickle, the way it feels when someone's watching you. Is hip around and throw a punch at random, my fist slamming into a black sweatshirt. My target barely moves and I groan. "Dammit, Fang!"

"Damn what?" His voice says quietly, and I can almost hear the smirk in his voice. I punch him again in a you-know-what fashion and continue down the street after Nudge's clapping footsteps.

Iggy jogs up from behind me. Even though he's blind, he knows his way around the neighborhood as well as the rest of us. I always find it funny when people try to trick him and he gives them the gift of having a few less teeth and lots of new scars.

Nudge stops at the second to last house on my street, the one where Parker lives. He's lived there for as long as I remember, and he's my age, eighteen. Nudge is only a year younger than me, and last year Parker started bothering her. We've warned him. So now he's out of strikes and it's time for a real punishment.

She knocks one clenched fist on the door, knowing full well that every damn doorbell in this neighborhood is broken. He pulls open the door and grins at her as I crouch next to the porch with Fang. Iggy, Angel and Gazzy crouch on the opposite side.

"Wassup, babe?" Parker's voice reaches my ears and I see him come out onto the porch and close the door behind him. "This is right, baby girl. That's why you're here, right?"

I have to applaud Nudge; she's as lethal as she is pretty. I hear a groan and see Parker curled on his porch, groaning and clutching his gut. Nudge flips her hair as he stands. He spits at her feet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" And he puts his hands roughly on her shoulders and slams her against the door.

I take this as an opportunity to kick some Parker ass. I start up the porch and he whips around just as I slam my fist into his jaw. He staggers back into Nudge and she kicks the back of his knee, helping him reunite with the floor of his porch.

Fang, Iggy, Gazzy and Angel pop up and stand around him with us. Parker glares at me, his pale blue eyes burning into my brown ones. "This doesn't involve you," he says, spitting again.

I crouch down, putting one hand on my knee and the other on the splintered wood floor. "It does when you won't leave my family alone," I say, quietly and calmly.

Parker smiles grotesquely. "You don't have a family, foster." I don't give him time to say anything else, just kick him and the temple and watch his eyes go blank.

I stand and look up Nudge. She nods, and we edit back into the street. "He's a little bitch," says Iggy from in front of me.

"Technically, he's a bastard," says Angel, her high voice sounding from right next to me. I look down at her and she smiles, her golden curls bouncing around her shoulders as she walks. Out of all of us she looks the most innocent, with her wide blue eyes and honest smiles.

Her small hand slides around mine and I tolerate it, for now. "We're your family, Max." She says. "You're right."

I smile back down at her. At least if I am spending time with a sixth grader, it's the one sixth grader in the world that will beat up eighteen year olds and call out cussing grammar.

My French teacher writes in curved handwriting on the board. I don't bother taking notes. I don't know any French and never plan to. It's a language for the kids who live in Sterling Ridge to know.

You can easily pick out the Starling Ridge kids from the kids who live in my neighborhood. Sterling Ridge kids are organized and rich looking, with smooth skin and shiny hair and new expensive clothes. Of course, they also have trademark smartphones and designer brands and an air of bitchiness. We call them Erasers.

The door to the classroom swings open and I glance up, eager for any distraction. It's a guy I've never seen before. He also must be an Eraser, because he has shiny hair combed over his head in a wave and wide blue eyes. His gray jeans are pressed and clean, like his black shirt. I instantly dislike him.

My French teacher tells him to find a seat, and he sits to my left. I glare at him and go back to texting Fang under my desk.

A finger touches my shoulder and I whip my head up, resting bitch face activated. It's the new kid, with a wide earnest expression and an easy smile. "Hi, I'm Dylan."

"Good for you," I tell him in my best I-don't-give-a-shit voice. He looks a little bit hurt. I hope he got the message.

My French teacher walks over to me. "This is our new student, Dylan." She says in her thick accent, making Dylan sound like Dee-lon.

"Yeah. I know." I turn back to my phone and she clears her throat. I look back up.

"Why don't you give him a quick tour of the school?" She says. Then she pauses. "Never mind. You have to, I will not ask again."

I glare at her and she smiles back at me. I jam my things into my backpack and stand, facing the new boy. He grins awkwardly at me and says, "Ready to go?"

I don't answer. I turn and leave the room, leaving it to him to follow me. I hear his footsteps following me down the hallway. "Wait," he says when he catches up. "What's your name?"

I turn to face him. He smiles at me, and I find myself imagining both punching him, and strangely, walking down a sidewalk next to him. "Look. Don't ask questions."I start to walk again. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I turn again, Ready to snap.

"I just want to know your name," he says. I narrow my eyes and turn, continuing to walk down the hallway.

"Maximum Ride," I whisper to myself.