So, I'm back with a completely different type of story from what I usually write. The plot is a lot like a lot of stories on this site, I'll admit, but I'm going to try to keep as much my own as possible. This is without wings, and there will be Fax, but if the story goes as planned, it'll take a while to get to it. But I hope you give it a chance! ENJOY!

Disclaimer: Though I own the major plot, I don't own some of the characters or settings. James Patterson is in full credit to the creation of Maximum Ride.

I still have the dreams.

Mom and Dad don't realize it, El. They think I'm healing from the inside out, and soon I'll be their smiling little girl again. All this time, I've tricked them; me, Max, the most horrible liar on the planet. I have everyone fooled; even my-our-friends can't see it.

I know you would never want me to blame myself. I mean, you were the sweetest, nicest one between the both of us. You would have never felt this sort of guilt before, El; you had no reason to. Such a selfless, innocent girl with her whole life ahead of her. You were going to go to great places. We all knew someday we would all be sitting in the crowds, cheering you on from below. If anyone could save "every animal in the universe", it would be you; top of your class, kind to every face, and with our mom's beautiful Hispanic complexion and big brown eyes, a knock out with all the 7th grade boys.

And then I had to make a stupid mistake and take it all away from you.

The last moments of your life were happy; I can comfort myself with that fact. Bright sunny skies shined through skylights over the food court. We were sharing a large basket of fries bought with the leftover cash, and I remember you dumped at least a pint of vinegar over the greasy mass. The scolding had been short lived, however. I won't deny that your fashion expertise had managed to make me excited for my date, Dylan, to pick me up next week for the high school dance.

It was impossible not to see that adorable grin stretch across your face as I teased you mercilessly about that boy who had asked you to the end of the year dance. We had both agreed that Gazzy was a weird name, but you insisted that he was cutest boy in your grade and even though all the girls would die for a chance to say yes to the invitation, he had walked up to you in front of everyone and straight out asked that question. It was so strange, El, the side you brought out of me that no one else could. We were total opposites: you with your sparkly blue nail polish and vintage flats, and then me with my short, clean nails and red converse. But somehow you could bring down that tough girl act in seconds, and soon you'd have me giggling about the cute guys and latest fashion trends.

You were obviously pretty nervous about your first real dance, too, though. No sane person would ask me, the girl who would wear her pajamas the whole day if possible, for fashion advice. But here we were, going dress after dress. Oh, El, you had the employees running back and forth to deliver new sizes and styles fresh from the rack to my hand. For Mom's sake, I would dutifully look to make sure it was 'appropriate' for your age group and if it passed my lazy inspection, over the door into the changing room it would go. There were also some supposed etiquette rules you wanted to run by me: do I have to stay with Gazzy the whole night, can I dance the whole time or is it customary to chat by the punch bowl? I had laughed at how serious she had looked, like this dance was going to be the test to where you would be in the 'coolness rating' next year. Not that it wasn't. I mean, it's a middle school dance, right? But I knew you would be fine, with the world already wrapped around your finger.

Nearly every dress in the store had been tried on before you decided on one you told me was perfect. "It's both casual, but appealing to the eye," you told me eagerly. I had rolled my eyes like any other sister would and told her, "as long as it's not too appealing to the eye, El." Blushing, you had smacked my arm, but all I did was chuckle at the embarrassment so clear on your face. "You're turning into Mom," you had stuttered out before stomping your way towards the food court.

And then we came to where we are now; the last fry was stolen, the last sip of coke was taken, and out into the heat we went to wait for Dad to pick us up. After half an hour of waiting, we finally got a call from him. Apologizing for keeping us wait, we were told to walk down the street to a coffee shop nearby. 'Your mother should be there,' he told me. By now, impatience must have been evident on my face, because you became the immature one, mimicking Dad's words and shaking your fist with mock earnest. I nearly dropped your phone with Pretty Pink casing trying to keep my laughter down. "Ok, Dad, O-K! We'll be careful."

The sisterly love had dwindled down a good bit in half a block. You became a little menace, complaining on and on about the heat wave and pushing your shopping bags at my own full arms. Finally we made it to the cross walk arguing and I thank the gods that across the way I could see my mother in the window of the small shop across the street, sipping an iced tea and calmly reading the local paper.

Too late, though. You had been toeing the line for at least ten minutes, and I was full of the whining. "Don't be such a cranky kid. Tell me why Gazzy asked you out again?"

The moment the words passed my lips, I could see the impact they made. I wish I could lie and tell you I was sorry, but honestly, I was proud to see the betrayal clear in your eyes. It was a powerful feeling, the control I had, and with it came a crude smirk.

Hurt and angry, you whipped around and starting stalking into the street. Irritation had made me blind to my job and I let you go a few seconds before reaching out an empty hand to pull you back. But it was too late.

I did it, El. I did it.

I should be the one dead.

Please tell me what you think! Review!