ITEX INC. REPORT:

NAME: KINDY (L), ELIZABETH (M) RACHAEL (F)

AGE: 14

GENDER: FEMALE

SPECIES: HUMAN (temporarily)

LOCATION: Halo, MI

SURVEILLANCE REPORT: Subject lives on 629, Fifth Road. Daily activities consist of education, socializing, etc. Subject is average in activities; socializes most with Morgan Castoff. Gives no sign of acknowledgement to surveillance. Unaware of all activity of Itex operatives.

Monroe Gunderson read over the brief report several times before setting it upon the desk in front of him in his office. "Head of Itex," A voice chuckled as a shady figure entered the office. The boy was of a mere age of twenty two, too young to be an operative and too old to be a subject of importance. The shady figure was in fact Andrew Gunderson, son of Monroe. "Got to be a bit overwhelming," Drew said as he shoved his hands into his pockets. His dry brown hair was combed to a neat shaggy perfection while he wore a black dress shirt over his bare chest and a pair of dark wash jeans along with brown leather and gold belt and a pair of old black cowboy boots. The shirt was opened three buttons to reveal the man's pale collarbone and partial of his crisply shaved chest. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled to his elbows to reveal thickly scarred forearms.

The shirt surrendered to conceal other thick scars all along Drew's back and chest however. Monroe narrowed his eyes at his son before picking up a thin stack of crisp reports, dating all along the past five years and yet scarcely allowed to be revealed. Drew stepped behind the desk, sitting upon the edge of the desk. Drew eyed his father's reports and picked up the first sheet on the thin stack, the latest report, before Monroe could protest. He read over the report, narrowing his eyes over the words. "You're stalking a fourteen year old girl?" Drew scoffed and looked up at his father in disgust. "Hardly; she is potentially great for this company." Monroe protested as he snatched the report from his son. "She is a potential breakthrough for the world, Andrew. She is no average fourteen year old girl." Monroe corrected his son.

Drew narrowed his eyes in pure disgust at his father. He wished nothing more than to rip his father to shreds and yet that just might land him in jail. He could report his father and yet he had no evidence and the second that Monroe discovered Drew's intentions, he wouldn't hesitate in assassinating his own son. Drew knew far too well his father was nothing but scum and yet his vendetta lived on. But with a glance back at the report, Drew felt slight pity for that girl. Not a person in this world would help her.

Max's POV:

I watched as Iggy slept along with the others. Iggy was second in command ever since…he left. I felt tears prickle at the mere thought of him and I hadn't even though of his name! I frowned at the ground. If we could finish off Itex soon then he could come back early instead of that damn cave he said to meet him at in TWENTY YEARS! I wanted nothing more than to go to Fang and…Fang. A tear escaped the corner of my eye and slid down, landing on my black T-shirt. It was a new one, given to me from mom. She wanted me to be happy. Oh, yeah, right! Like I could be happy when my best friend/soul mate was out wandering the Earth and possibly dying a slow painful death. Whoever was controlling our fates, they sure as hell had one sick sense of humor.

I felt my heart twinge in painful agony at just the mere thought of him. That damn bastard. But while I wanted to tear him to shreds, I also wanted nothing more than to run to him, to cry to him, to just have him here. But he wasn't here. Fang wasn't here. He was such an arrogant bastard, thinking he knew what was best for me. For ME! He couldn't just support me?

Why couldn't Fang just be…Fang? Why couldn't he just be the stupid supporting jerk that I knew him to be? Why couldn't he help keep us all from dying? Why couldn't he just be silent and invisible and kick-ass? But no. Fang had to be stubborn. He just had to leave. Ask any of the Flock; I haven't smiled a second since Fang left. Ask mom, ask Ella, ask Nudge, ask Gasman, ask Iggy, ask Angel…

And then there was that issue. My eyes darted to Angel's sleeping figure. Angel had betrayed us, killed Fang, stolen my Flock…I don't know how many things she'd done to piss me off. I'm not that good at math; hell, I don't think Einstein was that good at math. Not with as many things as Angel had done. Angel used to be…Angel. She used to be my baby, the one I'd protect most of the Flock. Now she's the one that I'd give up first. The rest are staying. Angel made so many mistakes; she lost my trust so many times. But she was an example. I couldn't trust anyone and I'd made that mistake. I'd made the mistake of trusting anyone. Not even my Flock could be trusted. I was sorry to say that but Angel and Fang were both model examples of that issue.

Not a thing could be said. I couldn't tell any of the Flock that I hurt. That was what Fang had been for; he'd been there to comfort me, to be my best friend, to be my soul mate. Now he's gone and he'll never be that again, even when we do get him back. Because we will get him back. It won't be in twenty years or ten, not even five. No, we were going to work our asses off to get him back. We were going to make sure we had Fang back as soon as possible.

I kept my eyes, ears and nose open, searching for any sign of any intruder in the forested campsite. No one came, not even around sun up. Iggy stirred awake, along with everyone else. Iggy blinked his unseeing eyes and I had to remind myself; you can't trust anyone. Max, is that necessary? I felt myself go rigid at the presence of the Voice in my head. Hee, hee, hee; Voice in my head. I rolled my eyes at the annoying presence. Very much so, Voice. Or have you forgotten Angel's little Boss act? I thought smartly back. If a Voice could roll its eyes, this one would. I could practically feel it. This is the Flock. Angel is Angel; not your entire Flock. You should learn to trust more. Voice answered. I frowned at this and for a second I was positive that if I kept this up then I would get my face in a permanent frown. Ha! Take that, world! Fang says 'hello'.That was another thing. The Voice hasn't only been contacting me but has also been contacting Fang, apparently, since he's left. That means that my Voice has got a pretty hefty schedule. Wow; if that isn't something a crazy person would think, I don't know what is.

He says that he misses you. The Voice said to me. My throat clogged up instantly and my eyes prickled madly. But I refused to cry in front of a now-awake Flock. I blinked away the tears and thanked my years of hard work of holding back tears that I had the practice. Tell him to kiss my ass. I thought back. I could practically feel the Voice's sigh in my head. Jeez; what is with it these days?

"Max, where are we going now?" Iggy broke me out of my mental conversation and I sighed. "We need to figure out where the main Itex building is. We want a domino effect." I answered. "Nudge, we'll get you to the nearest internet café and you can do your thing. After we've got the location, we're heading to it." I said to Nudge. Ah, Nudge, my chatty little Flock member. I ignored the swell of pride I had after remembering that she was indeed very handy. No, Max. If you do that, then you'll let your guard down. Be prepared for anything. I reminded myself mentally as I stood up. I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, away enough from my wings. "Where are we, anyways?" Iggy asked, frowning. I turned to him. "I saw a sign back there; it said we were in 'Halo, Michigan'." I answered him. Iggy gave a stern nod, obviously sensing my bad mood. Ha! Like it was ever a good mood. I don't think I've recognized a single thing as good since Total's wedding.

And with that thought we were off.

Ellie's POV:

I stuck my tongue out at the faux bitch that stood at the court across from me.

The "faux bitch" was, of course, Melinda Gunderson. Mel's had it in for me ever since I started here at Lincoln High. "Jesus, Ellie; don't make another enemy," Morgan snickered to me as we rotated in the volleyball court. "Hardly; we were never anything other," I laughed to her. "Besides, she can't take my mood. Nothing can! Next week's my birthday," I snickered to my best friend. Morgan rolled her eyes. "Be careful with that; you might just jinx yourself." She warned as she fisted her hands together to be prepared for the volley ball. Hell, I couldn't care less that I was horrible at volleyball; just as long as I got to hit Melinda Hart in the head, I'm all cool! And so I did. The ball headed in my direction and I rose up my hands. It flew away from my hands at impact and thankfully landed gracefully (and hard) against Melinda's head. I have to admit it; I cackled. Evilly. I know how to be creepy and I was using it.

I stood up straight as Coach Gordon blew his whistle. "Bleachers, Kindy!" He called out to me. I rolled my eyes as I made my way to the thick plastic black bleachers. Morgan rolled her eyes at my proud stance as I settled on the higher bleacher. I clenched my knees together (as to not give any of the guys a good look at my dear Screamer) and bent forward, placing my arms against my knees to support myself. What I really wanted to do was fall asleep for the rest of class. But that just wasn't gonna happen with Coach Gordon red-flagging every single badass move that someone cracked against Melinda (even on her own team, hee, hee, hee). While some cronies followed her every hair-flip, all of us norms just absolutely despised her guts. Well, all of us norm girls. The guys all loved her bleach blonde bitchy self. Hell, I was blonde but you didn't see anyone coming up to me and offering sex on a platter. Hell, that was probably 'cause I'd beat their ass or maybe perhaps because I was a norm and not a cheer-cheer hoorah.

Finally I heard a final whistle-blow and I threw my arms up in triumph. "KNEW IT!" I cried out as I watched Morgan make her way up to the spot beside me. She rolled her eyes but still smirked as she took her seat beside me. "Oh, c'mon, honey," I said as I placed a hand against her sweat-covered shoulder. "It's only reasonable." I said nodding slowly as if this was a child I was talking to and not a sophomore who was a year older than me. Well, in Bitch Status this was a girl who had child standards. She wouldn't dare be mean to a single person unless it was absolutely, world-saving necessary.

"Oh, quiet; I only did it because she was asking for it. Have you seen her flip her hair for Todd Moscow like it was her finger to a construction worker?" Morgan scoffed in disbelief. I laughed at her comment, leaning back boldly against the bleacher behind me, letting my bright yellow Lincoln High gym shirt ride up to reveal my pale navel on my bony stomach and allowing my C-cups to be boldly pronounced. I closed my eyes in sheer delight at the comfortable position until I heard a cough that sounded distinctly like "slut". I laughed aloud at that. Morgan was just about boiling over. Then I coughed a word that sounded distinctly like "hypocrite". I heard a shrill scream of outrage then the distinctive sound of stomps out of the room.

"Does she really have any room to talk?" I asked as I stood up, sighing in defeat at my lack of comfort. I fixed my short blue Lincoln High gym shorts on my way out. "Not an inch," Morgan answered as we headed out to the girl's locker room. I took an optional shower and washed myself in the stall before changing into my regular clothes; a pair of jeans and a black V-neck t-shirt. I saw my image in the shower and frowned as I saw just what exactly I looked like. At 5'3, I'm not very tall. And not many brands make jeans for short people so my jeans pooled around my high-top clad feet. My shirt exposed my pale collarbone and my bare white arms. My wet hair practically blended in with my skin at how pale of a blond it was and yet had a golden tinge to it. My smoky blue eyes were what people considered scariest and yet most alluring about me. Of course, I was short and yet I could pass off as a short adult.

I smiled at the mirror, watching as my pale pink lips curved up into a cat's curl type smile. I never ground my teeth so I had perfect white canines. But in a school of abnormally beautiful people, I was merely average. I shook out my wet blond hair, spraying drops of water around me. I grabbed my backpack from my locker and made my way out of the locker room. At the next bell, I'd be home free. It only took a few seconds of waiting for the electronic bell to beep loudly.

I freely ran down the hall to the front doors and out. With that burst of sunlight, I was home free.

Next Day:

One punch to my face and I was just about ready to kill this bitch. And trust me, I tried. I openly scratched at Melinda's face. "That is IT, bitch!" I shouted at her and took a step back. She smirked, as if triumphantly, probably thinking I was backing down. But no. I took a running leap and ducked down, butting my head into her stomach. She let out an audible "oomph" before hitting the ground. You could describe my series of punches as one of those exasperatingly refreshing moments. You know; the moments where you try new things and you just feel that rush, that awkward and yet free moment where you think you might be messing up and yet you're doing perfectly well.

Well, I knew I hadn't done well enough when Melinda rolled us over and took her aim at my face. It only took a few seconds of hesitation before she started off her series of punches. I heard a quiet snap as she broke her nails against my face. I growled and rolled us over again, pinning her with my hands against her shoulders. I kicked my knee up into a place where it hurts, even for a girl. She let out a half-agonized, half-outraged screech as my knee made impact. Never gonna have kids, sweetie. And I know that was a mistake. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have even taken her bait. But she started things and she took things so far, it was only asking for this. She hit a spot where the sun don't shine; she hit Morgan.

And Morgan didn't hit back. So it was either watch as my best friend was beaten to a blood pulp or take action. Guess which one I chose. If you guessed I took action, then ding, ding, ding to you. You guessed the obvious answer. "BITCH!" She screamed as she rolled us over again. I was pinned to the ground with her damn slut-bag body on top of mine. She scratched and clawed at my face then reached back and began punching me in the stomach. When she was through with being on the ground she got up. My nose was gushing and I had several cuts on my face, oozing the disgusting rust-scented liquid. But Mel wasn't done.

"Hold her up, guys," Melinda demanded of her cronies. One of the girls actually whimpered but one glance at my state was enough to tell her to comply or die. The two crony girls picked up my slumped form from the ground and don't think I didn't see that puddle of blood on the ground. No, I definitely saw that on the linoleum. What really made me sick…was she made the teachers afraid. The teachers were around, watching in fear as this BITCH took her action against me. Any one of them could probably take her and yet they were around. And you want to know why? Because her daddy had money. Her daddy was a big Itex CEO. That mother fucking son of a bitch was what made this entire world fear! He was the fucking BOOGEY MAN!

So not only did I have a pure vendetta against Melinda but I also had one for her dad; Monroe Gunderson. He was an asshole who had been sued once by his own SON for abuse and had won. He'd been claimed clean by the judge and his good-ass lawyer and his fake lack of evidence and damn excuses for the SCARS on his own SON'S back. That damn ass son of a bitch deserved worse than Hell and Mel was going in right after him if not before him. As soon as the girls picked up my bloodied form I couldn't help it. I laughed aloud. I don't know how I'd kept all my teeth in but that didn't mean that my mouth wasn't literally leaking blood.

"Daddy's little girl, ain't ya," I laughed to Mel. She paused with her fist raised high, aiming for a killer. "Your dad's an abusive son of a bitch and a killer and you're about to take his example. You're just one bitch after the other." I scoffed in disgust. The only person in her family that I approved of was her brother, Andrew Gunderson. He'd been the only one to fight his father. Mel was just a dumbass bitch, ready to take over the family business. Melinda's eyes grew hard and cold in their hazel blood-surrounded stance and she took that killer punch. It didn't kill.

Melinda tried, punch after punch until finally the principal cut in. By then I was seeing spots. I didn't care if I fainted. I just wanted this. I snapped my arms out of the crony girls' grips and snarled at Melinda. With that I punched her in the face. She went skidding and stumbling backwards, right into the white painted brick wall of the school, missing the lockers by an inch. I didn't care if I was considered a murderer; I just wanted to kill this bitch.

I punched Mel's head into the wall, watching as blood spattered behind her cracked skull. Oh, hell, she did the same to me. Why the fuck shouldn't I with her? Melinda cracked a wicked laugh before my last punch and I paused, humoring her. "And you think you're so much better? You're nothing but a nobody, Rachael. You're nothing at all. You're just dust, scum!" Melinda spat. Oh, hell no! Nobody gets to call me Rachael. I took that punch. I gave her that one last punch.

While half of me was angered that it wasn't enough to kill her, half of me was relieved. Melinda clutched onto her bloodied face. So neither of us died today. But I think we got all our issues out. Nope; wait; I still have issues with her.

September 19th, five days before my birthday:

It was five days before my birthday that I noticed it. It had been purely by mistake. I mean, it sure as hell had. I had been playing in the tennis court across from my house on the Saturday that it was. Morgan was across the net and I'd hit the ball a little too hard. As if it wasn't enough that my arm still hurt as hell from my fight with Mel, the ball also went soaring over the fence, directly over to the van that had been parked by the court, across the street from my house. I still had both eyes black and several scratches all along my face. I had multiple bruises everywhere on my body seeing as I had only gotten out of the hospital just yesterday. But whatever. It was only one night in the hospital.

My hair was tinged a bit orange from leftover stains that I couldn't get out no matter how many showers I took. I had multiple stitches in my head and I was meant to wear a bandage around my head but I refused to. I was wearing my pair of blue Lincoln High gym shorts and a black tank top, just to show off my battle scars. I was wearing a pair of black flip-flops though because we were still recovering from summer heat waves.

But like I was saying; the yellow ball soared over the fence before landing in the car's passenger seat; after breaking the window, of course. I frowned. "Let's play How Much Trouble Can You Get Into In One Week." Morgan announced, holding a fake microphone up to her lips. "First and only contestant; Ellie Kindy!" Morgan joked and made a fake distant cheering-like noise. I shot a glare in her direction and she held up her hands in faux surrender. I cackled evilly and winked before heading in the direction. I exited through the space in the fence and headed to the van. "Ah, fuck!" I shouted as I noted the label on the back of the van. Morgan was by my side in an instant, letting loose a dramatic low whistle. "Itex? Man, how much can you screw with Itex in one week?" Morgan chuckled. I rolled my eyes and headed to the passenger seat. "It's just a standby van," Morgan announced. I turned away from the broken window and raised an eyebrow. "It's been there for as long as I've known you," Morgan said with a shrug. "Don't think I haven't noticed. It's probably from the electrical branch; the neighbors have issues." Morgan said. I nodded.

"But just in case, let's leave a note of apology." I said, looking over the van. "Then run," I added with a nod to my own plan. Morgan rolled her eyes. "Let's check what branch it is so that we can call later and ask if it's alright." Morgan said. That might've been the smartest sentence that's come out of her mouth in this whole day. I nodded my compliance before heading to the back of the van. Morgan pulled open one door of the van and peered inside. I instantly saw her body go rigid. "What is it? What's in there?" I asked. Morgan cautiously backed up away from the van, still frozen in her bent-over position. "I don't think we were supposed to see that." She whispered. I frowned at her before going to the door she'd peered through.

At first I wasn't really shocked at what I saw. It was just a basic van. But then my eyes adjusted to the dark tint of the van. And then I was shocked.

All around were stacks and stacks of tapes. But those were only in the back. At both sides of the van were thin plasma screens, LCD screens. And below the multiple screens were neat panels, filled with a selection of buttons, knobs, levers, etc. There were seats behind the panels, bolted to the floor and yet able to swivel. Then I saw what were on the screens.

I pulled myself into the van and took a seat in one of the chairs. I blinked at the scenery in front of me. This was…different. It was so out of my normal league it was difficult to explain. Morgan joined me seconds later. "I told you, I didn't think we were supposed to see it." Morgan breathed in disbelief as she sat in the seat behind mine. I frowned at her but didn't look away from the screens. "I know we weren't." I responded as I glanced over the screens.

Each screen showed a room in my house. One screen showed how my mom was washing the dishes in the kitchen. Another showed how my dad was watching TV in the living room. And sadly, there were multiple screens from different places in my room. I was so disgusted right now that I could barely register it. "Damn it," I growled as I looked over the screens of my rooms. "It's kind of obvious that you were the one that they were stalking." Morgan informed me. I frowned at this as I whirled the chair around to look over the screens on her end of the van. I frowned even more so as I looked over the screens. Sadly, there were cameras in the bathroom. They've seen me in every single move. And finally there was an entire row…dedicated to my classrooms in the school. They were each in my classes, then a few in the cafeteria.

"What's this all about?" Morgan asked me. I shrugged. "I don't know. Why would they have surveillance on me?" I asked her, prying my eyes away from the screens for the first time since I'd laid eyes on them. "I don't know but let's go before whoever gets back." Morgan told me. I nodded before heading over to the passenger's seat. I picked up the ball from the pile of glass and quickly left the van. If anyone asked me at that moment what I wanted to do with that information, I would say I wanted it in physical form so that I could beat the people with it. No; I'm lying. I would really be thinking that I wished that I had never seen it. I wished that I had never seen that people were watching my every move, that I would never have a private moment, that I possibly never had.

"Let's pretend we never saw this," I said quietly to Morgan, now beginning to wonder if they had microphones all around. Morgan nodded, but blushed nonetheless. I sighed and reached up, running a hand through my hair and wincing as I jostled my stitches. "C'mon," I said and led Morgan back over to the tennis court where our rackets lie. For the rest of that day I ignored it. For the rest of that day, I didn't think about the van. I didn't think about the van that could possibly have every single moment of me naked in there, printed on film. I didn't think about how there were people from Itex stalking me. I'm lying.

September 20th:

My eyes kept darting to the areas that I knew there were cameras hidden. But I refused to admit that there were. I worked hard to resist going over and pummeling the cameras to little electronic bits. I worked hard not to give any sign that I knew there were cameras in my room, in my house, in my bathroom.

I felt my eyes dart to the window of my room for the sixtieth time that day. I needed to get out of here, but would they follow me? I frowned to myself. Had they seen Morgan and me go into that van? No! I refused to let this ruin my birthday week. I had four days until my fifteenth birthday. I would no longer be the youngest freshman in the school. I would be the same as everyone else. I refused to let the small fact that I was being stalked by a multi-billionaire company ruin my coming of fifteen years of age. I suddenly heard my cell phone ring but it sounded distant. I walked over to the nightstand where the phone was but I paused in front of it. I snatched up the phone and headed to the door of my room.

I needed to get to Morgan's house. I needed to be with my best friend and see if I was right. I needed to know my best friend was right there. So I got out of the house within minutes; a new record for me. I jogged down the street, passing the school on my way. I avoided eye contact with the building. There were cameras in there. Were there more vans around?

I didn't want to know. I didn't want this to ruin my birthday. I ran all the way to Morgan's house from the school, which was the area that I panicked in. I knocked on the door, pounding my still-bruised and cut fist against the door. Morgan's mom answered the door, her angry expression instantly relieved when she saw me. "Is Morgan here?" I asked. I couldn't stop the panic that was entering my voice. And I felt my body go rigid when a single thought hit me. Even if my birthday is this Friday; I'll be prepared for that. I thought to myself. I gulped down the nervous knot that had blocked all words. "Is everything alright, Ellie?" Mrs. Castoff asked, sounding worried. I frowned at her then shook my head. "Nope; just worried about my birthday presents." I answered, lying slickly. It's always been a talent, lying has. I gave an easy smile, trying to forget. Then I remembered the red Blackberry in my hand and my eyes darted to it. "I was just wondering if she could help me with a malfunction in my phone." I said and held up the phone easily.

Mrs. Castoff nodded and stepped aside to let me in. "She's in her room," She said. "I'll call her down." She said and was about to call to Morgan when I stopped her. "No, thanks; I'd rather take care of it in her room." I said and headed to the stairs that led to the second floor. The second that I came to the second door on the right, I flung it open then shut it quickly behind me. Morgan looked up from her text book, obviously shocked to see me. "We need to figure out if it's bugged," I said to her and tossed my cell phone on the bed. "If it is, then so are the rest of my phones and we can never speak on an electric line of copper again." I said to her and came to her side.

Morgan snapped her text book shut and eyed the Blackberry that now seemed like a poisonous acid on the bed. It was just as much unwanted. Morgan nodded and jumped up from her bed. "My phone breaks down all the time, the damn dinosaur," She reminded me as she pulled open a drawer in her desk. She pulled out a small clear plastic box, full of knots of metal and screws and screw drivers of sorts. She flipped open the box on the floor and grabbed my phone from the bed. I fell to her side on the floor, taking small, unnoticed breaths to calm me down. I would not let her see me panicking. I blinked, suddenly exhausted. I really just wanted to sleep, knowing that I wasn't stalked, watched.

Morgan used a screw driver to pry the top off of my cell phone. I flinched as I heard a crack as it was flung across the room. "Well, at least we'll never be listened in anymore," Morgan offered apologetically. I shrugged, gulping away the angry spit I had instinctively prepared. I looked down at the pad of electronic wires on the green chip. Morgan hissed in a breath. "We can never talk on the phone again." She whispered. I frowned up at her. She pointed to a small red chip on the phone. "What? That's been there ever since I had the…" I said, trailing off as I realized what that meant. "How long have they been listening?" I screamed out, letting my panic and anger overtake me.

"That's just BULL!" I screamed and reached up before remembering my stitches. "Damn it!" I cried out. "This means they've been listening in for over three years." Morgan said and swallowed what I'd believe to be bile. We've talked over the phone and the things we say are not meant for anyone to hear. They were PRIVATE! "We need to figure out why they want to observe you." Morgan stated calmly. But I could see the panic in her face, the panic in her eyes. "I have no clue but those sons of bitches will get what's coming to them when I get my hands on them." I growled threateningly. But somehow I refrained from grinding my teeth. I wanted to have these canines. They could be useful.

September 21st:

Today was the first day that I had school after we discovered I'd been watched. I wanted nothing more than to kill these sons of bitches. I wanted nothing more than to kill them and make them pay for being sick and disturbing. But then there was the other issue. The issue I had to be prepared for in case it happened. I had to be prepared for—

"Turn to page 354 in your text books, please," Mrs. Rodriguez stated as she flipped open her teacher's edition of the text. Poor Mrs. Rodriguez; she had no clue that her class was being observed this very second.

I flipped to the page of my text and looked over the page. I didn't see any of the words though. No; instead my mind was with that camera that was hidden somewhere in this classroom. The girls behind me were still gossiping about my fight with Melinda. How we didn't get suspended was a mystery. No, wait. The principal probably thought it was fair if we both got equal punishment and seeing as Mel couldn't get suspended or expelled, I had to have the same. I couldn't as long as the fight was with Mel. But I wasn't gonna push that. I had to be a good little girl. Mel was in the back of the room, sulking over the fact that she hadn't gotten away with murder because I wasn't dead. She was trying to glare holes in the back of my head and oddly I felt it. But my mind was with her father.

It was her father that was stalking me, no doubt. But why was it that he was stalking me? Was it that Mel had tattled on our relationship to her daddy? Was it that Mel had said I was a bad person; that I'd been "picking on her"? Or was it for an entirely different reason? I desperately wanted these answers that I couldn't get without risking everything. I couldn't get these answers without risking exposing that I knew too much. And if I knew too much, then these people would no doubt take drastic measures. Those were never good measures.

I forced my eyes to focus on the first word. "The" was all that I could see. I couldn't read the rest. Morgan cleared her throat subtly (sarcasm there) from beside me and nodded to the front of the room. I looked at the whiteboard to notice that there was an assignment scrawled on the board in the red erasable marker. When did that get there? I quickly reached into my backpack before pulling out a notebook and opening it to a blank page. "Rachael, would you please read out loud the first sentence?" Mrs. Rodriguez asked. I frowned as I looked up at the teacher.

She was a beautiful, young teacher. She had tan, caramel colored skin and glossy black hair, pulled back into a bun. She wore a gray pencil skirt and a white oxford blouse along with her shiny black pumps. Her brown eyes were kind and the type that made you love her instantly. She was also kind. She chose that sentence so that I wouldn't have to pick up where someone else left off. She'd seen me distracted. I read aloud the first question before turning my eyes to my blank sheet. "Thank you, Rachael," She said with a soft smile. I nodded absently, blinking my tired eyes. I'd been feeling exhausted ever since the van incident. But I haven't been able to sleep properly, knowing that someone would be watching me toss and turn. I couldn't sleep, knowing that I might give away my knowledge in my sleep. Being watched, being stalked is not as fun as you'd think.

It's rather stressful, in fact. I didn't like it and quite frankly I regretted ever thinking of myself as a norm. I missed being a norm, being unseen. I missed being invisible. I was more watched, more abnormal than anyone in this class. I was the one that was most seen. I missed it all.

A/N. I apologize for such a short chapter (or at least it's short in my eyes). And I'm sorry this is my first story in Season 2 of my stories. I want everyone to go to my profile for the explanation on that if you haven't already. If you haven't been keeping up with my account, then here's the deal; I am making a new season of stories. I've decided I want a name for Season 2 of my stories so review me some answers.

I don't own Maximum Ride. And please, just review me.