Hey guys, it's Sam C: here! Judging from my smiley, I'm sorry to say it's not an update on "The Mysteries of Love". This is actually a new story that I started to write. It's called "My Fair Lady", featuring my current loves, Maximum Ride and Fang from the book series, Maximum Ride! This plot is actually based off the hit Korean drama, You're Beautiful, but I wanted to incorporate it into this story since I think Max and Fang resemble the characters in the drama (Except for some personality differences). No worries, guys! "The Mysteries of Love" will be put on HIATUS, but I won't ignore it. I love Misty and Ash too! And although I have all my notes for the next chapter, I just haven't had time to write it.

Anyways, I'm hoping that you will R&R for My Fair Lady!

Max - I'm a guy?
Sam C: - Yap.
Fang - Am I stll a guy?
Sam C: - You're way too sarcastic.
Max - Oh, I so agree with you there.
Angel - Fang hates you, Max, for agreeing with Sam C:
Max - Aww! I TOTALLY feel the same way! Let's hug!
Fang - GEROFF ME!
Iggy - Maximum Ride is owned by James Patterson! NOT Sam C:
Sam C: - Thanks Ig! On with the story!

"Miss…Miss…Miss…Miss Ride!"

H-uh? My eyelids started to flutter as I started to realize what was happening. Removing my huge white sunglasses (A present from my biological mother, Valencia, before I took off on an airplane from Washington D.C. to Los Angeles) , I glanced around to see the people around me removing their carry-on luggage from the storages and stalk off into the gateway.

"We've arrived in Los Angeles, Miss Ride." The overly-friendly, way too smiley flight attendant said, keeping a smile plastered on his face. I was slightly alarmed that his face didn't break within the thirty seconds where I was just staring at him like a complete moron.

"Wh-what?" I stammered. "I SAID…" The flight attendant repeated, clasping his hands together like he was praying. "That we've arrived in Los Angeles, Miss Ride. Please remove your luggage and head off to the gate."

Following his orders, I quickly scrambled to my feet, strapped on my messenger bag and took out an athletic sports bag (Surprisingly, it smelt really good…AND it was one of my twin brother, Ari's, hand-me-downs.)

Just as I passed the hallway into the airport, I heard the flight attendant behind me snicker to his pals, and then muttered, "Complete re-tard." Notice: Emphasis on the RE. I rolled my eyes and shot him a death glare, daggers and all. "And you're a total dick, Mr. Re-tard."

He stared, open-mouthed after me and I left with my pride and dignity. Okay, so I guess this is where I make my introductions while I try to get myself through the airport without my claustrophobia getting to me. So…

My name is Maximum Ride. People call me Max for short though, and I prefer it that way. I have long brown hair with sun streaks (A reward from staying out in the sun too long: Running, jogging, swimming, tennis playing, you know the drill), and unbarfed chocolate-coloured brown eyes. Right, and I'm eighteen-years-old. Brown hair from my mother, Valencia, and hazelnut-shaped brown eyes from my father, Jeb.

Oh yeah, I also have an older brother by just thirty freaking seconds that he tortures me about daily, even when we're speaking through Skype or messaging each other on Facebook. It's either "Hey Mom's Second One By The Big 3-0!" or "Half a Minute Brat". Yup, he's my twin brother, Ari.

You see, ever since I was ten-years-old, my parents were divorced. The judge then pronounced me to my mother, and Ari? My father. As a sort of "punishment" for "my parent's foolish and childish actions of putting their children through a traumatic experience" (I call it a great opportunity, no offense there Judge Judy), I was able to spend my summers with Ari and my father in Los Angeles.

So that's how eight quick years flew by, and eventually, I've become a "young adult" too. Usually, my over-protective mother would accompany me on my airplane flights, and then take a flight back to Washington directly as soon as I landed. She didn't need to worry about me: I was perfectly capable of reading signs.

This time, it was…well…kind of different. Mom couldn't come with me this time because…she's freaking out in Washington right now. As a perfectly single woman, she started to get back into the "Dating Zone" when I turned twelve and gave me the inescapable talk about young men. Again, no need to worry: I consider myself a tomboy, and I am SURE (Sure as fire), that I wouldn't fall in love. At least, not yet.

Just a couple days ago, Mom got proposed to by her two-year boyfriend Robert. And I was happy for her, I really was. Robert wasn't a total psycho or a freak who would try to manipulate Mom, so…it's all good. And the second reason I'm here is…I'm not exactly here to vacation, but to visit my traumatized Dad.

Why is Dad so traumatized? Usually, he likes to keep a cool head and think things over before doing anything. Well, just a week ago, Mom received a call from Dad, and there Dad was, going all, "Ari this…" and "Ari that…" and "Ari in the middle…" and "ARI LEFT ON AN AIRPLANE TO BE WITH HIS STUPID ONE-MONTH GIRLFRIEND, AND THEY'RE IN PARIS!" (And mind you, he was shouting).

And of course, I started to freak out too. I mean, after all, WHY in eff-you-see-kay's sake will you leave with Dad's credit card AND a girlfriend that you found at a party? Dad isn't completely made of cash you know! And really? Did you ask her out cause she's hot, but she's as dumb as bird crap? Sometimes, I really don't understand Ari…but I guess he's a guy. And guys do guy things.

So anyways, here I am, with my shades over my eyes, waiting in line for my passport to be checked. I glanced at him through my shades and snorted. Bald, moustache-y, two spare tires and…is that chilli cheese dog sauce still dripping from his top lip? He tried to make his voice sound alluring as he saw me. I bet he got it up. JUST KIDDING.

"Hey there."

Blink.

"Hi."

"Where are you staying?"

"Los Angeles with my dad?"

"How old are you?"

"Look at my passport."

"Are you single?"

This was getting WAY out of hand, my friend. I removed my shades and smiled innocently into his face. "Listen up, you big spare tire pedophile! My stepdad? Yeah, he's a professional boxer. If you even TRY to put your hands on me, you'll regret asking me if I was ever single."

Immediately, he shut his mouth. HA! That always did the trick. Truthfully, Robert was a veterinarian, just like my Mom! But hey, even if the boxer thing didn't work, I could always tell future pedophiles 'My stepfather is a surgeon.'

It's not REALLY a lie. He does operate. On mammals. And humans are mammals.

"H-here you go." Gee, I must've scared the old spare tire so much. Even his hand was trembling. "Kay, thanks and bye."

Just as I got out of the gate and was staring into the open space around me, looking for my Dad…

"MAXIMUM RIDE!"

Dad enveloped me in his arms. Literally. Thank goodness I took in a deep breath a couple seconds earlier, cause right now, I couldn't breathe. "Dad…Dad…Dad…DAD!" He looked startled when I shouted in his ear. Several times in a row.

"I think you can let me go now." "Oh, right, right." Then he came in for the big hug. You know, that's one of the things that I miss about my Dad so much. His great big bear hugs. "Aw, Dad! It's great to see you too! How have you been?"

His smile started to falter as he took my luggage and in a few moments later, loaded it into the back trunk of a snazzy sports car. "Dad! This is WAY COOL. Ultra cool! I bet this car is Ari's." I hopped into the front seat beside my dad, and buckled myself in.

The silence during the car ride was completely uncalled for. Therefore, I had to break the ice. Somehow…how about starting with the topic of lunch: What are we having this afternoon? Yes, that is an EXCELLENT plan, Max, I thought to myself while grinning stupidly.

"So…" I began slowly, while taking off my sunglasses and stashing them in my sky-blue messenger bag. "Where are we going for lunch, Dad? Are we eating by the usual spot with the chilli cheese dogs or taking me out to Chinatown for dim sum?" My God, I just love those ha gao (Delicious and scrumptious).

"Um, sure, if you want." Dad replied uneasily, taking a quick glance at me and then at the crowded highway before him.

By the time we got to Chinatown, it was already noon, which meant parking space was limited. But because my dad was Jeb, he was deemed invincible when it came to finding a space for the tight race car. It completely baffled me when he lost a perfect parking space to an old lady who wanted to whack me with her umbrella when I shot her a dirty look.

Eventually, we made it to a little Chinese restaurant on the outskirts of Los Angeles' Chinatown. I tore through my dumplings, fried noodles and (of course) the plateful of ha gao like a savage beast. Please don't judge: I have an extremely high metabolism. AND I use up a lot of energy, even back at home! I was way too outdoorsy for Mom's taste, since she didn't always love wiping the soil on the floor after I came home.

I looked up at Dad, only to see him staring at his cup of oolong tea. He looked possessed. No joke. "Dad?" I asked uncertainly with my mouth full of shrimp. "Y'kay?" Dad replied with only a smile plastered on his face. However, it was no use. I could read him like an open textbook.

And something was on his mind that even I (A sixteen-year-old young adult who understood peoples' feelings and emotions) could not comprehend what it was.

After lunch, I stretched out my arms and legs near the entrance of the restaurant. I looked up at the name: Golden Chopsticks. I had to come back here sometime. "So…where are we going now, Dad? I would love it if we could go home and just watch soccer games. Just like we used to! Doesn't that sound like fun?" Dad's brow furrowed for just a moment before they uplifted. "No, sweetheart, we're not going home." He took my hand in his, and then said, "I'm taking you to a hair salon."

Geez, I actually thought it was some sort of sick joke. Never did I think that I – Maximum Ride – would need a haircut in Los Angeles. One thing about me though? I love my hair. I love my brown hair with sun streaks, and the way I would braid it each morning. Well…except sometimes…long hair could be hard to handle (Especially combing through the plaits). I guess the haircut wouldn't be TOO bad. Even if I did want to object, I didn't want to hurt Dad's feelings and his offer to pay for my haircut. So…I suppose zipping my mouth shut and locking it with a key will keep me out of trouble for now.

Once we arrived, I plopped myself onto one of the amazingly comfortable blue leather chairs, making a mental note to myself that I needed to buy one just like it (Or something similar, at least) when I got home back in Washington. Leafing through a fashion magazine wasn't one of the normal things I would do when I went to get haircuts with Mom, but since I didn't have my Nintendo DSi with me, I guess Teen Vogue would suffice for now.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Dad mumble out words to my hairdresser, and even took out a glossy photograph from his jacket pocket. My hairdresser gave out a very loud gasp, and then started to giggle up a storm. Great, I thought while rolling my eyes. It was just like facing Mom all over again when she told me Robert proposed to her.

At that moment, my extremely feminine-looking hairdresser Antoine stalked over in his ridiculously long red hair which he crimped…and also braided. Oh, dear God.

"Now, sweetie…" Antoine began as he placed a piece of white cloth over my clothes. "Just sit back and relax! I'm going to make you into a star people will love – I mean…I'll make you LOOK like a star! Oh Gosh, silly me! Ahahahaha!"

Oh, dear God times two. I was already pretty thankful that I didn't vomit the first time. And I also think I'm having a WTF moment, but the pitch of his voice sounded a little too…high up for the male register. Oh well. Maybe it's just my ears deceiving me, still trying to adjust to L.A. life.

"Okay." I replied. "You can cut it whatever way you want, as long as I don't look like a boy." Antoine's face flushed with colour, and then once again, started to giggle even harder. "Oh, honey! You amuse me like no other!" It was pretty obvious that my hairdresser didn't find it amusing at all. He ended up looking a little uncomfortable as he picked up the scissors. Whatever.

Let's just "go by the flow". It's a personal quote of mine that I share a love-hate relationship with. It helped me when I went on my first date (And last date) with a classmate of mine, Sam, and we kissed on my front porch. Yeah, it helped THEN. But when I knew there was a Biology test the next day, I "went by the flow", and thus was grounded for three weeks because I brought a B- home. Pretty good for a Grade 11 student who decided to sleep and get her necessary 8 hours of sleep instead of cram.

For the next half hour, I wasn't facing the flat mirror where I could observe and spy on my hairdresser's movements. No, no, Dad thought it would be a "superb idea" for me to be blindfolded before my haircut started. When I asked Antoine about it, he said it was for "safety issues so I wouldn't get hair into my eyes." Apparently, blindfolds make a great source of eye protective wear.

Finally, the soothing shampoo and condition came to play, and I knew it was time to uncover my make over. Just as I was about to yank my blindfold away, Antoine slapped my hands. Wow. Her hands are…so smooth. "Not yet, honey! You still need to style and blow dry!" The hot air felt REALLY comforting, but it wasn't the best experience when I listened to Antoine open up a container, take a dab of a paste, rubbing it in his hands and THEN scrunching my hair. It was SO PAINFUL!

I think Antoine motioned for Dad to come over, because I heard him say, "It looks awesome." Does it really now? Let's take a look!

…

Oh my God. Staring back at me with horror in her eyes wasn't me; it was…Ari. I looked completely like Ari with this hair! Oh my God. Oh my God. Wake me up from this nightmare please. I pinched myself. Yup; definitely real life. My chest-length brown hair was cut really short, even shorter than I could ever imagine myself in. Wispy bangs and a boyish haircut was the last thing that I needed.

I stared at myself in my reflection. Honest to goodness, I looked like Ari. Dad stepped up close to me and squeezed my shoulders comfortingly, probably to ease her traumatized daughter who resembles her twin brother. "Do you like it, kiddo?"

He called me Kiddo? Who does he think he IS? And look at Antoine, just standing there clapping! Oh wait…he brushed his hair back…he's actually a she. Her name is Antoinette.

My bad.

Still! That was NOT what we were talking about! "Dad!" I screeched angrily. "I look like…I look like…" Then again, now that I'm actually closely examining my new haircut, this boyish look really brings out the honey tints in my hair that Mom had purposefully highlighted one time. She wanted to test it out on me, and then her. Obviously, it turned out pretty darn fabulous on me, but TOTALLY ridiculous on her cause the next day, I saw a violent shade of putrid vomit when I woke up the next morning. And of course, the empty bottle of hair-colouring treatment in the garbage can.

I whipped my head around and around, and my boyish cut flipped cutely with me. I mean, okay, so it wasn't TOO long but it wasn't TOO short either. I tugged a piece of brown hair towards me, and then inhaled deeply. It smelt like green apples. Nom nom nom, it smelt so delicious.

Now that I think about it, my haircut looked like a simple white T-shirt that I could wash and wear easily, even daily! Even though I now loved my new hair, I was still pretty pissed at Dad, no joke there. I still had my feminine eyes, but I had some same features of Ari as well: The pert nose, and the same thin pink lips. This meant that I resembled Ari a bit too much for my own personal taste.

Dad placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed them encouragingly. "I know things are confusing for you, sweetie. You just have to trust me on this one, Max. Please believe me." Dad's hazelnut-brown eyes seemed too earnest to NOT believe. And once again, that quote barged into my head: Go with the flow, Max, and all will be well.

I sighed, and then nodded at him. "I'm proud of you, sweetie." But what was he proud of me FOR? That was the ultimate question that was boggling my brain. Then, I proceeded to ask Antoinette what the delicious-smelling green apple shampoo was. "Oh, it's not a shampoo, Max! It's the Gatsby hair wax, the orange coloured! Would you like to buy a container and try it out? Only fifteen dollars for one! It's a GREAT DEAL!"

So after Dad paid for my haircut and my new Gatsby hair wax (I guess it is pretty cheap, and Antoinette DID do a pretty spectacular job if I do say so myself), we were out of the AC and back into the Los Angeles heat. We didn't go home yet. Not yet…and I sighed to myself, wondering what could be next. Geez, first a boyish haircut, and what next? A young men's clothing store?

I was right. "Great, Dad." I mumbled bitterly under my breath. "I bet it's going to be a sex change next." "Now, now, Max." Dad said soothingly, patting my hand gently as we got out of the car and we headed into a store where Ari usually got his clothes.

After gathering huge amounts of clothing and shoes, Dad literally pushes me into a change room. Get this too: None of the male employees here seemed to notice that I was a member of the opposite sex. Since I didn't have enough room on my hands to carry enough clothes, Dad took some for me. I sprawled out the clothes onto the purple cushiony seat into several piles: Jeans, t-shirts, jackets and the etcetera pile…not to mention the twenty pairs of sneakers, flip flops and non-girly shoes at all. "Assemble the clothes into an outfit that you could see Ari wear! Then, show me!" Dad called out from behind the door.

First, I arranged my most favourite pieces into several outfits. For the clothes that I disliked or weren't my taste? I threw them ALL back at Dad. That's Dad's just desserts for making me wear…boyish clothes and…get a boyish haircut. Obviously, Dad got kinda pissed.

When I came out of the change room, he would critique me on the outfit I had put together. He would either say something like, "I think it would best if you added this [accessory of your choice]" or "I don't think this jacket is too bright. I wouldn't bring out your eyes. Try this [clothing of your choice]". I can honestly say that I was critiqued at least ten times. I tried on everything; from dark wash skinny jeans to baggy t-shirts to Converse sneakers and (get this) boxers.

Finally, the clothing experience finally ended, and Dad's hysteria started to subside. Just by a tad, though. One of the most mortifying moments though? It was when Dad was paying for my huge pile of clothes (Resulting in a bill of at least five hundred fifty dollars), and our cashier smiled at me, saying, "Your son has such smooth skin!" and proceeded to stroke my cheek. When we left for the car, I kicked the door of Aris' door, leaving a large dent.

"Dad!" I shouted angrily. "I have questions for you, and I need them answered. NOW!" "Ar-Max. Please calm down, and please don't ruin that car. It was Ari's pre-debut present." "I don't freaking care about Ari's pre-debut present." I snapped. "You just called me Ari. So WHAT? Dad, tell. Me. Now." I enunciated every word. "Explain to me what the hell is going on."

Dad started to do something I've never seen him do before: He started to sweat, not because of the sweltering heat, but because of nervousness, and the fear that I could clearly see in his eyes. Dad started to wipe the sweat off of his brow with the back of his wrinkly hand. "M-Max," He stammered quietly. "I really need you to help me this time."

I was the "stubborn as a mule" type of girl, so there was no way in hell that I was going to help Dad…without hearing any explanations first. Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked at him, my eyes narrowing slightly. I leaned back against the smashed car door, now killing myself inside for ruining this little beauty. "Max…" Dad began slowly. "In any case, please be calm and listen to every word I say."

I snorted. "Haven't I been for the past three hours while landing here?" Dang right; I was never afraid to show my attitude to adults, even to my overly strict and overly-protective Mom. "You've got about five minutes until my patience starts to thin. Start talking." It was Dad's turn for his eyes to narrow at me, his lips thinning into a frown. "Maximum Ride, what is this sort of attitude that you are giving me here? If you wish to be so uncooperative, then I suggest that you buy yourself a ticket back to Washington." I fumed, turning my head away.

"Anyways, I require your help because just about a month ago, Ari auditioned for a group called One Winged Angel. And me, Jeb, is actually the manager of the group." I pursed my lips thoughtfully. "One Winged Angel? Oh…" I nodded, pretending to know what Dad was talking about, then I shrugged. "Never heard of them. So what exactly IS it that you want me to do?"

Dad sighed, then reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a photograph, featuring three young men, ages ranging from fifteen to nineteen. I could definitely tell who the leader was: Jet-black hair with intensely gorgeous dark eyes, dressed in ripped skinny jeans, a forest-green cargo jacket and sneakers while carrying an acoustic guitar. Damn, I must say, he's so breathtakingly…

Oh, crap. My face was getting red.

Shaking the ridiculous thought out of my head, I continued to put on my poker face. "What's up?" Dad looked pretty uncomfortable up to this point. "Well…you see…Ari auditioned very well. He has a wonderful singing voice, killer looks and wonderful dancing. But…"

I did not like where this was going. I also decided that I should finish the story for him.

"But I'm guessing a week ago before Ari's debut with One Winged Angel, Ari partied a LITTLE too hard and thus, he ran off to Paris to do baby-making with his girlfriend. Hence your ballistic phone call on Sunday." Dad nodded, smiling faintly. "So, so, so…I was just wondering…if you could…"

I face-palmed myself, shaking my head. Oh, my God. How will I ever get the musical talent that Ari must've worked for a year to get? "Oh right." Dad added in. Glancing at his watch did NOT give me a good impression of the situation at all. "Thirty minutes to meet with the rest of the members. If you don't help me..." Dad's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm going to get fired from my job."

Oh, goodness. I'm pretty much crapped. And to add that I didn't have any choice in whether I wanted to do this or not.

…

CURSE YOU ARI! CURSE YOU AND YOUR RAGING HORMONES!

I know what you're thinking! CHAPTER 1 IS WAY TOO LONG MAN! XD I'm sorry, guys! It's just that it felt necessary to add in every little detail. But WAIT! How will I know what you think and what you expect for this story if you have some things to say? Constructive criticism = Yes. Feedback = Yes. Reviews = MAJOR YES.

I hope I'm not being too picky, but I would like at least 1 or 2 reviews for My Fair Lady for this chapter? Next update will be of My Fair Lady! See you guys again soon!

Luff,

Sam C: