Heyo, this is my first MR fanfic. Just sat down yesterday and started writing. Let me know what you think. Good enough to keep writing? I do have some ideas for the storyline and such. Character planning is pretty far too...RnR please:)
Maximum Ride: It's My Life
Chapter 1
My Story
They say there's a beginning to every story, but that doesn't necessarily mean that a story starts there. Take my story for example, I could start at the beginning, but honestly that would take too much work, and I'm just trying to put it out there- no matter the order. I guess I should start with an introduction though:
My name is Maximum Ride.
I have dirty blondish hair (somewhere around there).
Brown eyes.
A kick-butt attitude- if I do say so myself.
I'm seventeen, but I am commonly taken for any age between thirteen and twenty one, which can be good or bad depending on the situation (obviously).
I go to Southern Cross Charter High, which is not a private school. It's public, but all the outsiders thinks it's a private school just because we have a dress code, stricter rules, and above average intelligence. By 'we' I am of course referring to most of the students here- there's always those idiot kids whose purpose in life you are constantly questioning. All-around, life is good. I have some friends, some enemies (okay, a lot of enemies- who knew people held grudges so bad over spit milk?…More on that later), okay grades (mostly B's and C's, one or two A's), a perfectly normal home life, and a job at the local music store here in Onidah, Oregon. I'm on the Varsity track team, working for a scholarship, but since it's fall right now I'm also a participating member of our school's soccer team- new this year.
Anyway, that's enough about me- well actually this whole story is about me, but you get the point.
I'm walking down the hallway to math class when it hits me- that ray of light they say comes at opportune moments to lead you on a better path…It takes a moment for me to realize it's just my best friend Nudge signaling me from her locker across the hall with her compact mirror, right next to the east windows (thus, the beam of light). I roll my eyes and head over to her, raising an eyebrow as she appears to go into ninja stealth mode, a.k.a, using her open locker door as a cover while glancing around suspiciously.
"What's up?" I ask.
"Shhh," she shushes me, looking around again, then beckons me closer. I step forward a half an inch, and she seems to understand that's all she's getting. She leans forward with a hand cupped over one side of her mouth to whisper to me.
"Can you check me?" She asks. I give her a half-grin and nod slightly. She shuts her locker door and tries to nonchalantly walk away from me a few steps. I give a small glance before catching up to her and affirming, "You're all good."
In case you're wondering what the heck that was about (which if you're not, you're either psychic or a paranoid female), those are our code words for when we aren't confident that our 'sanitary napkins' have done their job completely. We came up with them in the sixth grade when we both started our periods.
'Can you check me,' as in, is anything showing, and 'You're good,' meaning exactly what it says.
Yep. You didn't think I was going to mention the workings of the female torture system? Well, you thought wrong. They play a very big part in this story; okay, not really big, but I am a female, and therefore am affected.
Nudge and I continue on to Calculus together, with her back to her normal carefree self. It's the second day of Senior year, but it feels the same as the last three years of high school here. Same people, same teachers, same blue carpeted floors (yep, we charters get the nice stuff). I glance at Nudge next to me, who has began to hum some One Direction song (I think).
Her dark dark brown hair is in a side braid, a head band with a little poof of hair in front accessorizing the look. Simple heart shaped diamond studded earrings adorn her ears, with a matching bracelet on her left wrist. Only the bare-minimum of makeup can be seen on her face (not sure if it's because she's not wearing very much, or she's just really good at applying it), which I am grateful for since I can't stand those girls who think of foundation like a second layer of skin. Her mocha-colored skin is set off nicely by the white collared blouse she wears with matching khaki pleated skirt to her knees and a thick pink belt around her waist. Matching pink flats pull the whole look together (at least that's what she says, I only know the basics in fashionista-ism, which I usually choose to ignore anyways).
That's the prettier side of the leeway we get with our dress code. I'd say I'm somewhere in the middle, with a turquoise collared shirt that is comfortably baggy but still shows off my toned figure- the schools emblem stitched on one side of the chest in dark blue and gold- navy capri's, and some tennis shoes. I usually keep my hair in a pony-tail. Like today, today is a 'usually' kind of day.
Nudge is talking next to me about some 'Sloan'-kid (seriously, what kind of name is that? Then again…I guess I'm one to talk…) as we enter the classroom. A seating chart has been set up on a projector screen towards the front of the room, since yesterday was mostly orientation for classes. Of course the teacher just had to put everyone in alphabetical order, so Nudge is somewhere in the middle row while I'm stuck in the back next to Fang/Nick Walker. Just my luck that no one else in our class possesses a last name with any of the four letters between ours. That jerk's been a pain in my butt since freshman year, and now I'm stuck sitting next to him for the entire first semester. It's bad enough that I have four out of seven of my classes with him already (small school), and if this is an omen of how the rest of my day is gonna be, then this probably isn't the only class I'll have to sit next to him in.
Flashback- Freshman year- September
My friends Tess, Nudge, and I walked outside during lunch time. On the west side of the school are two fields- one is larger and serves as an outside P.E. area, and the other is smaller and inverted. Whenever it rains (which it does a lot here in Oregon), the smaller field fills with water, creating a shallow swamp effect. Freshman boys, being what they are, can't help but mess with things like that.
As we walk by the fields, we see that their immaturity has indeed lead them to this point. When we were younger Nick went by his middle name, Fang, but suddenly wanted to change it back to Nick come freshman year. Whatever. He'll always be Fang to me. By this point in our high school lives, our rivalry was set well in motion.
I watch as Fang and his friends Iggy (James), Rachet (Richard) and Holden initiate the new kid Dylan into their group. Somehow they've convinced Dylan to give them one of his converse sneakers, which Iggy promptly takes and drop-kicks into the pond. I glance at Nudge and Tess beside me, to see that their expressions are as incredulous as mine.
"Man, what jerks," I say to them, referring to the guys, and they nod silently. The boys in question begin walking towards the doors to the school, which incidentally are behind my friends and I. The bell will probably ring soon, signaling the end of lunch hour. A few other groups head in the same direction, and as Fang and his buddies pass us, I can't help but call out:
"Man, you guys are jerks. I can't believe you constitute that as friendship," I say, gesturing to Dylan and his now- sopping wet shoe. I am addressing Iggy as I say this, but Fang chooses to butt-in, much to my chagrin. I've been trying to ignore him.
"I can't believe you have any friends," he says, sneering. I notice now that the people who were river-ing around us have stopped and are watching the spectacle.
"Excuse me, do I know you?" I ask Fang innocently.
"Yeah," says Iggy, "He's the guy you were in love with last year." Iggy seems proud of himself for recalling this- sadly- well known fact.
"Oh yeah," I start, as if recalling it myself, "You're right. I did like a guy in eighth grade who's name was Fang and looked kind of like him, but he was way nicer. I don't who this 'Nick' guy is." I shrug nonchalantly and promptly turn on my heel, heading inside right as the bell rings. It's not until later that Tess and Nudge inform me of how everyone else stood there shocked, and Fang began to exclaim, "Bi-"
When Tess looked him down and give him a warning "Nick" before he could insult my retreating back. Everyone started to turn away and head inside as well, but Nudge heard Fang finish under his breath with a "hatch."
One of our first arguments. And the first very public one. From then on everyone had a pretty good idea of how we both stood on matters of our past.
End flashback.
You would think his jerk-ness would make him unpopular, but as it goes, he's only that way to me, plus his mom is our principal. That fact alone was what set off the fuse that burned between us when high school started, but more on that later as well.
Our math teacher, Mrs. Bentley (only math teacher at our school), comes into the classroom right after the bell rings, followed by a very red- headed woman who looks to be in her very early twenties.
"As you all know," starts Mrs. Bentley, "I teach a class every hour due to the fact that our school is very small and I am the only math teacher. Principal Walker was kind enough to except a TA to teach the Calculus class here at Southern Cross. This is Brigid Dwyer, Miss Dwyer to you, and she will be teaching you all this semester while I catch up on some much-needed paper work time. I see you've already sat in your seats from the seating chart that Miss Dwyer made, so I'll leave you to it."
With that she leaves that classroom, and we are faced with a widely smiling TA whose green eyes flash as she turns to greet us.
"Hello, class. My names Brigid Dwyer and I'm here to teach you Calculus," she says.
"Well, obviously," I mutter under my breath. Out of my peripheral I can see Fang roll his eyes and shake his had at my comment, saying "Obviously" quietly in a valley girl voice. Mocking me. I want to tell him to stuff it, but realize that would be a waste of breath as he already has a gigantic pole shoved up his butt and therefore there is no room for anything else.
"I thought I'd start with a review test, since I'm new to you and am not completely sure of what you learned last year in Preliminary Calculus and Trigonometry," she starts passing out some papers I didn't see in her arms before. I have just gotten my paper when Lissa Lancaster walks through the door. Great.
"Sorry I'm late," she says with an apologetic smile, "I had to go to the office to get my classes changed."
"Oh, hello," Miss Brigid Dwyer says, smiling back at her, "I'm your teacher for this semester, Miss Dwyer". They have the same straight red hair, except Lissa's are adorned with front bangs as well, and hers is more red, rather than orangish like our TA.
"Just give me your name and I'll put it on the roster," she says.
"Melissa Lancaster, L-A-N-C-A-S-T-E-R," says Lissa. Suddenly I see her spot Fang and smile, then she see's me occupying the seat next to him and her smile diminishes a bit.
Lissa and I don't necessarily dislike each other, but she's one of the many reasons I broke off communication with Fang. They were together for a while after that, but he eventually broke up with her when he realized "they had no chemistry"-as she claimed- but they remained friends. I can't help but have a suspicion that she still likes him. It's not like I care, but sometimes she can be annoying when she's always vying for his attention and I'm caught in the middle, like right now; the only open seat is the one in front of me.
Once when I was running for secretary freshman year, I went to get the grade form signed by my English teacher, only to find that Lissa was there and running for secretary as well. As soon as the teacher turned her back to sign our permission slips, Lissa blew a raspberry at me and raised her eyebrows in some sort of challenge. Anyways, that was right after my falling out with Fang, when I was least popular and Lissa was his girlfriend. Needless to say, I lost that election. But whatever, I don't even remember why I wanted to be secretary in the first place.
As expected, Lissa takes the seat in front of mine, and for the rest of class I struggle to pay attention to my review test while Lissa and Fang exchange glances and a few whispered words. When the bell rings, I practically jump out of my chair, exclaiming, "Finally," and rushing out the door, towing an amused Nudge behind me.
"I can't believe you sit next to Nick in three classes," says Tess at lunch time.
"Ugh, I know. At least it's all over before lunch time. Up-chucking is not my favorite hobby," I answer, and she raises an eyebrow.
"You know, cause his face makes me want to…" I trail off, knowing my explanation won't make sense to her.
"Oh my gosh! Dylan's headed this way!" Says Nudge excitedly.
"Nudge, you see him everyday. He's been your next door neighbor for three years," I inform her, but her attention is already elsewhere.
"Hey Dylan!" She says, smiling as he stops in front of our table, brown paper lunch bag in hand. I busy myself eating the crust off my swiss and salami sandwich, not wanting to participate in the gawking of the 'amazing Dylan.' Despite me always trying to convince Nudge that Fang's player-ness had rubbed off on him, she continued to insist she was in love. I swear he just has list of all the girls in school he's checking off as conquests. I, of course, am not one of them, but now I worry my lucky solo streak is coming to an end when Dylan turns from Nudge to me, grinning.
"Hey Max," he says.
"Yep," I answer, mouth full of sandwich. I have no need to impress this guy.
"Is this seat taken?" He asks, gesturing to the one across from me and next to Tess.
"Actually-" I start, but Nudge cuts me off.
"You can sit there," she says, smiling eagerly. As he takes his seat, I look at Nudge and mouth 'Sam?' She just shrugs and turns to Dylan. Next to me, my sister Ella turns over and see's my partly mutilated sandwich. She's a sophomore.
"Eww, Max. You know Mom says not to play with your food," she teases me, I grin back.
"It's just so fun, I can't help myself," I say, making my signature 'little kid face' as Mom and Ella dubbed it.
"That's a cute face," says Dylan, and I realize he was watching our sisterly display.
"Uh, okay," I say, "Thanks?" He just grins at me. What a creep.
"Why are you sitting with us anyways?" I ask bluntly.
"Max!" Nudge gasps, but is cut off by Dylan's answer.
"I wanted to be near you," he says, feigning hurt.
I inwardly groan when I notice Nudges furrowed brow. She did not like the sound of that. Well, neither did I, for that matter.
"Okay, well that's really special and all, but we hardly know each other. So…you just sound really stalker-ish when you say that." Not to mention you're making my best friend want to murder me. If he's planning to make me his next conquest, let me tell you, that is not going to happen. Although there was that one time I kind of sort of liked him during sophomore year, but let's face it- bounce back crushes don't count for much.
Dylan chuckles and replies, "Come on, we can all at least agree that this place could use a little excitement. I'm just trying to get to know the go-to girl for fun."
I stare at him, thoroughly confused at what he has just implied.
"What the heck?" I say, when I decide to be offended.
"Well," he says, "I was just talking to Nick about how bored I was, and he mentioned that you were a good way to pass the time."
I stare at him, eye's narrowed and mouth partly- open.
"Now I can see he was right," Dylan continues, "those expressions you make are priceless."
"Well," I huff, after regaining my snarky composure. You wanna play Walker? WE CAN FREAKING PLAY.
"Obviously I was more than that if he cared to mention me three years after I dropped him," I say smoothly, picking up my mutilated sandwich and tossing it in the trash before standing and heading out of the cafeteria.