Okay so this is Chapter 69 in SOF and it does go by the book. I'm not one of those people who totally messes up the plotline when they do another character's pov. Not to offen anyone, sometimes when people screw up the plot line they end up really good!

Enjoy!

Either I'm dreaming (doubt it), reading (clearly, no), or taking a dirt nap (could always be true). Why you ask, such a depressive outlook on my life? Well, besides the fact that the only colors on my body are black and skin tone and that I say an average of eight words a day, nothing bad has happened. In like weeks.

When you're a genetic anomaly, sometimes your life just sucks a bit more. When our days are normal, we have to rip a feather out to make sure were not dreaming. Which, by the way, is a lot more painful than pinching your self.

I needed someone to rip my whole wing off for me to believe this.

No Erasers. No Gazzy and Iggy making things go boom in the night. No headhunter having an aneurism every other day.

Actually, I hadn't seen the headhunter in awhile. Maybe he took some vacation time to get a spray tan for his head. Or maybe to get his piece of hair dyed. Man, he really does have a face only a mother could hate. I wonder if he has a wife. Could you imagine kissing those nasty, wet, purple lips right before you go to bed? Oh, God. What if he has kids? That would be just …ewww.

Angel hasn't come home with another stuffed bear. Or a cat. Or the whole freaking toy store. So that means no mind control from her, that I know of.

She is one creepy kid. Have you ever met a six year old, 50 pound girl that could take over the world all from her stuffed animal infested bed? Weird, eh? I mean she's adorable and all and she's the only one that I will ever allow to hug me (EVER), but she's gotten… powerfuller? More powerful?

In my fourteen short, relatively craptastic years, I've gone to school a whopping two weeks. No judging.

Any who, the kid can read minds, control minds, and breathe under water. And what can I do? I am supreme ruler of pissing off other people. My specialties include Max and most adults that try to talk to me.

"DINNER'S READY!"

That would be Anne, our personal FBI agent. What, you don't have one? This one likes to pretend to be our mom.

I heard the pounding of the younger kids' feet as they tore down the stairs to eat yet another 3000 calorie meal. You'd think we'd be the size of ostriches, but nope. The flying takes care of that. Great source of exercise.

Having the same brains ostriches, I can't say the same thing. Did ya know their noggins are the size of peanuts? Go figure.

I heard someone tiptoe down the hall and tap the door open. Max. She poked her head in, staring at the positively appalling (see I did learn something at school!) white carpet. Her hair wove a thick blonde curtain across her face. And as, per usual, it needed more than just a brush threw. I could just barely make out her tan, freckled nose as it peeked out from her screen of hair. I couldn't see her deep chocolate eyes or her full mouth as she asked, "You coming?"

I nodded my head in that oh-so-annoying way that I know irritates her. Hey, I got a rep to protect. I've already said four words today.

"'Kay see ya in a few," she mumbled.

She pulled herself out the doorway so fast, her head cracked against the side of the wall. I heard a muffled crap, then listened as she flew down the stairs. But not literally of course. There's the whole 13 foot wingspan, 4 foot hall way issue.

I wonder what's up, I thought to myself. Max is my best friend and usually we lock eyes and no what's wrong in an instant. Or what the other's thinking. We'd been through so much together it was hard not to.

I'd been there when she threw up for the first time while Jeb was at the grocery store. We had thought she was dying so we put her in a cardboard box filled with blankets. 'Cause we thought she might get uncomfortable in death. The only thing that happened was a puke covered Max and a really ticked off Jeb.

I'd been there when she'd flown for the first time. Or when we had. Believe it or not, we didn't actually fly to get away from the school. It was closer to what a kidnapping scenario might've been like.

Pretty much Jeb came in the middle of the night and threw our cages into the back of a truck. My memories of that night are pretty fuzzy, but I remember enough that it had been the worst car ride ever. That includes when Max was trying to drive us to The School to rescue Angel. Impressive, right?

Jeb had started teaching me and Max first 'cause we were the oldest that could actually see. She'd never admit it, but I got flying waaay before she did.

I'd been hovering about ten feet off the ground when something finally clicked for her. Keep flapping and you won't fall on your butt. Peals of totally elated laughter had resonated through the small clearing we'd been practicing in.

That was the happiest I'd ever seen her.

So you can understand how creeped out I was when she wouldn't look directly at me. I guess I'll find out sooner or later. Probably sooner. Max didn't like even saying the word emotion. Then again neither did I. But when she had something to say, she wouldn't shut up until we got the gist of it.

With that I snapped my laptop shut. My search for the Mickey D's closest to Anne's would have to continue later.

I slid off the bed and loped down the steps into the huge Victorian style kitchen. Don't ask how I know what Victorian is. I will never speak of it again.

Everyone had already started eating a most likely less than stellar meal of steak and mashed potatoes. Anne isn't exactly the next Iron Chef. Or anywhere close. At all. At least it's better than desert rat. And yes, that's actually a concern here.

I slipped into my high-backed, charcoal colored chair next to Max. I got to watch in satisfaction as she jumped almost imperceptibly. She didn't hear me, yet again. Score, Fang: Uhh… a lot. Max: Zilch.

My food was oh-so-generously already served and waiting for me at my seat. I immediately started shoving food into my mouth, even though it tasted like macaroni made by Max mixed with the solid form of eau de Gazzy. I'm a guy and I'm a bird kid. I eat a lot and I'm not picky. End of story.

As Anne ambled in with yet another bowl of mashed potatoes, I tuned into the Nudge channel.

"…and everyone's gonna be there. And if I show up in an oversize hoodie, they might think I'm weird. So I need to go shopping. I need to get her a really cool birthday present, too. If I don't get her one that's legit awesome they might think, I like, live under a rock. Which we sorta have, but not literally. I mean that would really hurt our wings. OMG what if they see my wings? What if they start throwing cake at my new outfit BECAUSE they see the wings-?"

"Tiffany!" Anne practically screeched, "We'll get you a new outfit that'll hide your wings and looks beautiful. If they do start making fun of you for any reason you just call me, okay?"

"If I do can you bring your taser?"

I don't think Anne understood that Nudge was being serious as she laughed forcibly, "Of course, honey."

At honey, I saw Max's jaw clench. She really needed to suck it up and face the fact that Anne could never ever do what she'd done for us. Ever. Anne hadn't changed Angel's diapers. Anne hadn't stolen underwear from Wal-Mart for us. Anne hadn't rescued us from the school, Erasers, etc. Basically Anne hadn't done squat. And there's the whole she doesn't have wings either.

But, whatever.

For the next few minutes the only sounds that filled the huge dining room were six Avian American's chomping on their grub. Food was actually spraying out of some of our mouths. Not to name names, cough-Gazzy, Nudge-cough.

The one to break the silence was Max as she slurred, "Igotaskedonadate."

She said it so fast and so low that even Iggy had to ask, "You what?"

"I got asked on a date," she said nonchalantly, flinging mashed potatoes onto her plate.

My heart skipped a beat and I clenched my fork so hard, it started to bend.

"Oh Max," sighed Nudge.

"You're kidding," asked Gazzy, trying and failing not to spit half- chewed steak all over me while talking. I reached over to flick the food off my sleeve as he continued, "What a loser! What'd you say when you shot him down?"

She looked down and started cutting her steak with great precision. I swear her face turned red.

My whole body tensed as I swallowed cotton. I momentarily stopped eating. Why am I acting like this?

"You said yes, didn't you?" asked Nudge.

My heart beat sped up. What's going on? Why do I care? Maybe it'd just those over protective brotherly feelings. Yup, that's it. That was my attempt at calming myself down and I was failing miserably. I started taking deep breaths to calm the staccato beating of my heart.

"Oh, my god," said Iggy. I heard him slap his forehead and continued shoving food in my mouth. "Max on a date. I thought we were trying to avoid tears and violence and mayhem."

She shot daggers at Iggy that were yet again wasted.

"I think it's great," Angel commented. "Max is beautiful. She should go on dates."

I swear my skin temp went up at least twenty degrees. I was practically sweating. But, Why?

"What are you going to wear?" asked Anne.

"Don't know," she said, her facing turning scarlet again.

My heart started beating really fast again as the conversation progressed. I squeezed my eyes shut really tight and thought to myself, Why are you acting like this? You should be happy for her 'cause she's your sister. Well not biologically, but like a sister. If we were blood related that would make the whole beach scene after Ari tore me up just… yuck! Then why do I feel like there's an iron fist closing around my chest?

I am happy for her. I am happy for her. I am happy for her.

Then why is my throat closing up with dread. Why do I feel like punching whoever's taking her out? Why am I feeling emotion at all? I'm Mr. Rock. I don't feel emotion/talk. I feel subtle emotions on the inside and just plain think a lot in my head. Gotta make up for not talking somehow.

That was when Angel cut in.

Fang, you and I both know that you love Max. And she loves you, too. So don't worry. It's just one little date. It's kinda like when adults say they wanna see other people, but then hook back up two days later. Don't worry she'll love you as long as you love her.

Ummmm… whaaaat?

Okay so there it is. You know what I want for Valentines Day (besides MR7) REVIEWS!

Also if anyone has any good story suggestions for me to read, let me know!

-blackroseposion;););)