This story belongs to and was written entirely by keepdreaming93 who has decided to delete her account and has given me permission to post this story on my account.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to James Patterson.

INTRODUCTION: MAX POV

The mirror hates my guts.

I'm not joking. I'm pretty sure that in a previous life, I really did something to screw up the dynamics and flow of all things in mirror-land, because it seriously, seriously hates me. Like, with a passion. Like, hatred as in how teenage boys hate Justin Bieber and the way that his hair flows across his forehead...just...so. That's how much it hates me. And if you're in Junior High or live somewhere that's not a hole, you know just how deep that hatred really runs.

The mirror in my bathroom. I swear to god, somebody somewhere possessed this thing, and made it evil. Because every time that I look into it, I look horrifying. And, I guess I'm kind of used to it. Or I should be, at least. I've always been one of the guys. Rolling around in the mud and playing tackle football and starting food fights. I guess that I really shouldn't expect to do all of that and then turn out to be a supermodel. But really? Every. Single. Day? Did I have to be ugly every day? Couldn't the mirror just cut me a break?

I don't know why I even cared, though.

Why did I care? I've never cared before; why now? Senior year of high school. I suppose that I just want a change, maybe. Try something new. No, in no way was I going to stoop so low as to become someone like Lissa, but maybe I didn't have to be ugly anymore. Maybe I could just try out being decent looking. I'm sure I could pull it off. I mean, I didn't have any deformation or anything that made me ugly, I just decided not to care that much.

As I was twisting my hair around my finger, trying to think of ways that I could make it better, the door flung open. Jumping back with a squeal, I saw Fang walk in. My heart skipped. On its own. Oh, joy. Not only does the mirror hate me, but my own heart, too. That's the ultimate betrayal: when your own body hates you.

I didn't have a shirt on, just a bra and jeans, because I was still getting dressed when I got distracted by my ugliness. Any other decent guy would have left the bathroom, but Fang, he just stayed there and smirked. I rose my eyebrows, willing the blush to not appear on my cheeks, daring him to step further. He did, gently setting his fingers on my elbow to maneuver me out of the way so he could brush his teeth.

After I finally closed my mouth, which had been hanging wide open, I pulled my shirt over my head. Then, being the amazing person that I am, I leaned forward, tangled one of my hands in his amazing hair, and slammed his face down onto the counter.

I think I saw blood but I wasn't sure, because I was already out of the door.

Later, I was sitting on the couch in the living room, reading a sports magazine. It was actually an interesting article, about bmx biking, but I didn't get to finish it because it was then yanked out of my hands very rudely. I looked up to see Fang, furious.

Yup, there was definitely blood. He didn't really show his anger this much.

"Hey," I said, whining and reaching for the magazine, my hands flailing in the air. He brought it higher, out of my reach. Douche bag. "Give it back!"

"You slammed my face into the counter!"

"You didn't leave the bathroom when I wasn't even dressed!"

From somewhere in the house I heard Iggy shout, "Go Fang!" And then Ella smacking him and telling him to shut up.

Mental note: Beat the shit out of Iggy later.

Boys suck. I mean, honestly. They just do. One of my favorite sayings. Boys are like purses. They're cute, full of crap, and replaceable. It's so true! Let's take Fang, for instance. He's totally cute. I'd never tell him that, but it doesn't change the facts. He's really, really hot. He's full of crap. He always says things that don't make any sense, and that's only when he actually does talk! He barely even talks! But, he's not replaceable. He's my best friend. I can't just pick up a Fang from the corner. From there, I'll only get a STD or a hobo. Or a STD from a hobo.

Anyway, he's two out of three, though.

So he's, like, part purse, part boy.

Part purse, part very hot boy.

This thought made me think of something else. What if my attraction to Fang was what was triggering this sudden wanting to change my appearance thing? I mean, it was very unlikely, because I didn't like Fang, but still...

"Max?"

I snapped my head in Fang's direction. He'd dropped the magazine down and was now looking at me with a worried expression.

"You alright?"

I nodded, blushing. He looked confused, but let it go. He picked up the magazine and whacked me in the side of the head with it before leaving the room, saying over his shoulder, "Don't hurt my pretty face ever again, you asshole."

I sighed, still having the indecency to check out his butt as he left.

This was the start of something insanely terrible.

Note from loveofallthatisawesome: An anon pointed out in the other story I posted by keepdreaming93 that it is pathetic that I'm posting the stories up before KD93 has deleted her account. Right, well, the original author told me that it'd be better if I posted them up before she did delete her account so that she'd be able to tell the people who read her stories that they'd still be available on my account. That's why I'm posting them before she deletes her account. Just saying.