(A/N: My goal for this Fic is to have it end up on Fang blog (Because Fang's blog is teh awesomeness). I was reading the blog and found some fanfics linked on there and saw they were good, but a lot of people could pull it off. So I'm gonna try.)
(A/N: So Fang (Or Max, or Nudge, or Iggy) If you're reading this, I give you permission to put this on your blog.)
A Day in the life of Maximum Ride (Pre Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment)
A Fanfic by Sam Havni
MAX POV
It was morning in our quaint little E-shaped house in Colorado.
Hi, I'm Max. I'm 13 years old, and I have wings. Yeah, you head me, wings. And I live with my family. Okay, so we're not really related, but if you'd lived with them for most of your life, you'd call them family too.
But we're here in this E-shaped house – the six of us, I mean. Fang, (13), Iggy (Also 13), Nudge, (10), The Gasman (Don't ask, 7), and my baby (Not really my baby, but basically my baby), Angel (5).
We were created by really evil scientists – whitecoats, we call them – as an experiment. We're 98 human, 2 bird. And we can fly.
I was in the kitchen, at a loss of what to make for breakfast. Iggy, although younger than me and blind, could probably cook something.
"Hey Igs! Could you make breakfast, please?" I called down the hall. No answer.
I walked into his room, where Iggy, although his eyes were closed, was making a feeble attempt to look asleep. So I tickled him.
He groaned and rolled over, placing his pillow on his head.
"C'mon, wake up." I said seriously.
He sighed and rolled over on his back, accidentally falling out of bed.
I laughed and offered him a hand. Oh, wait, he's blind. So I grabbed his hand and forced him up.
"Fine, I'll make pancakes." He said, slouching into the kitchen.
I crept into Nudge and Angel's room.
"Nudge, wake up." I said.
She opened her eyes, looked around, and then pouted, seeing that I had disturbed her sleep.
"What's for breakfast?" She asked. What a trooper.
"Pancakes." I replied lamely.
"Oh. Yummy! I love pancakes. I wonder what pancakes are made of. Maybe it's eggs. Or maybe flour. Or, it could be both. Or—" She stopped when I raised my eyebrows at her.
From the corner of the room, I could see Angel peeking out of her curtain.
"Ange," I said, looking over at the curtain. She pulled it back to reveal her five-year-old face. "C'mon, get dressed and let's go eat pancakes."
"Yummy!" She said, running out of the room, already dressed.
I turned to walk out of the room, only to walk into Fang.
"Why do you do that?" I asked. He always randomly appeared out of nowhere.
"Exist?" He asked. Another thing about him: No sentences more than one word. Those are strictly prohibited.
I scowled at him, walking past him. I walked into the kitchen, where the Gasman had apparently gotten up and walked into. The pancakes were done, and mine was getting cold.
I sat down and began eating.
"arpmh whmpmh ghnpnh gmph—" Said Gazzy, with a mouthful of food.
"Gazzy," I said. He knew better. He was seven now, after all.
He swallowed. "Sorry," He said. "I said are we gonna go tree climbing today?"
"Hm…That sounds fun. Yeah."
"Ooh!" Said Nudge exitedly. "Are we gonna go to old biggers?" Old Biggers was a really huge tree that was good for climbing. Fang, Iggy and I had built a treehouse the size of a mansion there.
"Sure, Nudge." I said, hoping she wouldn't continue. But to my demise:
"I wonder how old it really is. It's probably like, 1,000,000 gazillion years old! And I wonder why it's so big! Like, People get bigger for awhile but then they stop. Maybe it's like us! Maybe it's taller than usual! And Maybe—" Nudge stopped when Fang put a hand over her mouth.
And so we left.
We had to walk for quite a while. Fang kept walking in to me.
"Will you stop that? You're gonna run me off the cliff!"
"I'm walking straight. Maybe you're walking crooked." He said.
"Oh, so it's always my fault." I said, angrily.
"Max," He said, looking at me.
I shoved him. He chuckled and shoved me back. I fell backwards.
"Max!" He said, as I tumbled backwards. This really hurt.
I just kept tumbling. I couldn't stop. I was going to roll off the cliff.
He ran after me, his arms out. I kept rolling. I sensed the cliff coming. Fang was about to have killed me.
He grabbed me under my arms, just as I was about to die. A searing pain went through my shoulder. I couldn't move it.
"Ow ow ow ow ow!" I said, painfully.
"Are you alright?" He asked, ignoring my pain.
"My shoulder," I choked.
"I'm so sorry," He said, examining my shoulder.
"I think it's broken."
"Iggy!" Fang shouted, as the flock ran over. "Check Max's shoulder. She says it's broken."
Iggy felt my shoulder.
"It's dislocated." He stated.
Fang felt my shoulder. He pushed down, which sent searing pain up my shoulder.
I let out a cry as he pushed it into place.
"What happened?" Asked Nudge.
"I fell," I said lamely, and in pain. "I think I hit my head." I said, rubbing my bruised head. I shot a look at Fang, who looked sorry and worried.
"Good news, fellas," I said. "The first aid kit is in Old Biggers." I said. You know, just in case one of us fell.
So we walked over there. Well, except me. And if you ever tell anyone about this, I will kill you: Fang carried me. He flew me into the mansion tree house.
"Fang, I can walk," I insisted, wondering if I could stand the embarrassment much longer.
"Fine," he said, putting me down. I toppled over from the pain in my legs.
He picked me up again, without speaking, knowing he'd won. He carried me down the hall – Yeah, we had a hall way. This thing was as big as the E shaped house – and into a room, which had the first aid kit. He set me down on the bed – the only bed in the tree house – and began going through a cabinet, until he found a white box – the first aid kit box.
There was stomping on the roof.
"Gazzy, please get off the roof." I called.
"I'm not Gazzy, I'm Iggy!" Called Iggy.
"Oh. Well get off the roof, then." I called. Gazzy chuckled from the roof. That's another thing Gazzy could do. Imitate any voice or sound.
He put a bandage on all my wounds. It hurt like insert swear word here, but I suppressed a scream.
"I'm really sorry." He said again for the 50th time this conversation.
"It's okay." I said. He didn't really mean to hurt me.
"Can you walk home?" He said, grinning.
I opened my mouth in shock and rage, at the fact that I couldn't walk home.
I scowled at him, rolled my eyes and shook my head.
He chuckled.
Too bad for me.
I was hoping to live through this day.
Now I would die of embarrassment.