Disclaimer: I don't own anything James Patterson owns, nor any brand/place you recognize.

Claimer: I own my plot and my work in general.


Chapter 1


You know, at the time I swore up and down, to hell and back, that I'd drop out of Home Eco. the following year, nevermind how much of an easy A it was.

You don't get what I mean? Yeah, you probably don't. Let's make a deal, shall we? I'm going to introduce you to myself first, because you really need a head start on me to know what type of lunatic you're dealing with, and then I'll explain why I was oh-so keen on dropping out of my easiest class.

Before I say anything, there's one thing you absolutely need to know about me. It's of vital importance, for it is the single trait that has defined my character as absolutely Max ever since I was born.

Be prepared. This is big.

I… am not a morning person. In consequence, I despise my alarm clock. But I have it, and don't—usually—inflict damage on it. We have a bit of a love-hate relationship.

Now that you know that, onto the other stuff. My name's Max, short for Maximum. If you ever call me that… you will wake up in Timbuktu missing a few limbs. So we're sticking with Max, or if you're a teacher, Ms. Martinez.

I live with my sister, Ella, and my mom, Valencia. And now, the newest addition to the family… ladies and gentlemen, please do not welcome Jeb.

Jeb is my dad, literally. He's my biological dad, same as Ella's. He left us when Ella was born—I was around two years old at the time. It's ridiculous. One day he was there, then Ella was born, and whoosh! Bibbidy-freakin'-babbidy-effin'-boo. He's gone.

The ass; didn't even sign a divorce.

Anyhow, he came back about three months ago. Just like that. He showed up at our doorstep, right there in the middle of the hall of the apartment complex in downtown Mexico City… ka-boom. Welcome back.

Not.

Fourteen years later, he decides to come back. He gave my mom some real sappy speech and who-knows-what-else. Same went for me and Ella.

Let's get this straight. I didn't buy one word of what he said.

Mom and Ella, on the other hand, grew to like him again. In my opinion, they did it a bit too easily. He started being really nice to us, and he helped us with our economic situation too.

I considered that as buying us back. And I didn't like it one bit.

See, when Jeb left us, Mom took us to live with her parents in Mexico. Grandma and Grandpa Martinez to the rescue, and all that jazz. My grandparents took care of Ella and I; Mom got a full time job. We managed, but we did rely a bit too much on my grandparents.

I knew my mom didn't take Jeb back just because of the money thing. He really must've done something to convince her. My mom is a smart person. Best mom there ever was.

However, that didn't put Jeb back into my good graces. At all.

Anyhow. The point is Jeb took a few weeks to convince Mom to take him back. I never knew how he did it, and I came to the conclusion that I simply didn't want to know. My mom's business was her business. End of story.

He took us to live back in the States, Arizona to be precise. He oh-so-kindly accommodated us in this really, really big house of his, and then sent Ella and me to this really big, really rich school.

In a sense, that was the only reason I somewhat appreciated Jeb coming back. My mom no longer worked her butt off, instead taking up a part-time job as a vet. You know, that profession she had to kick aside because Jeb left.

It's a vicious circle, I tell you.

Jeb, of course, knew to keep his distance. He was nice to me, I was terrible to him. The works.

Something else I should've mentioned up there next to my love-hate relationship with the alarm clock is the following: I hold onto grudges like I hold onto my hate for Jeb.

And, seriously, I didn't get it. How could Mom and Ella let go of a grudge you've held for fourteen years? It's not that simple, trust me.

All that long-winded explanation just to say that Jeb was officially back into my life, and he'd promised to never, ever leave again. Lovely, right?

Now that we've settled all that, let's zoom into that fateful day in Home Eco.

That morning, I stepped out of my room in the usual Maximum Martinez attire: jeans, T-shirt, converse, ponytail, and zombie-eyes.

Heading down to the kitchen, I passed by Jeb and greeted Ella, in Spanish. Oh, how I loved to tease Jeb about my bilingual state. He never knew if I was cussing him out or asking Mom to pass the salt.

…it was usually the former. But shh...

Ella was her usual respectful self, greeting me in English, like the good girl she is. I just rolled my eyes and proceeded to look for my characteristic cereal bowl.

"Oh, Max?" Ella called from the stairs.

I turned to look at her. "Yeah?" I asked, a spoonful of cereal in my mouth. I think a little milk dripped down my chin in that moment.

Ella scrunched up her nose. "Mom had an emergency at work today—Jeb's driving us."

I groaned, but nodded to signal that I heard her. She trudged up the rest of the way up the stairs, leaving space for Jeb to head down himself.

I glared good morning to him, and he just nodded. No formalities, no pleasantries. The usual.

Dumping my bowl into the sink, I ran back up the stairs to brush my teeth, mentally preparing myself for a car ride that was sure to grate on my nerves for the rest of the day.

P-R-O-J-E-C-T : F-A-M-I-L-Y

The ride with Jeb wasn't so bad.

Wait, wait. A miracle didn't happen. I didn't suddenly forgive him. Do you have such little faith in me?

No, Jeb just got a phone call from the office as soon as he started the engine. Thank-you, Itex!

As any other good host, please let me elaborate on what daddy dearest does for a living. Itex works on genetic engineering, basically trying to find out how to make stronger and healthier plants and stuff, or in the medical area, trying to make 'deformed cells', as Ella and I call them, to inject into humans and cure stuff like cancer.

Brilliant explanation, yes?

Once we arrived at school Ella and I got out of the car. Ella waved goodbye to Jeb with a smile; I just continued walking ahead.

Ella caught up with me, bid me a good day as she usually did, and then quickly ran off to the freshmen building at the bottom right corner of the school premises. I headed to the one located upwards diagonally from hers—the junior tower, I called it.

The junior building was two floors taller than the other three. Why? I had absolutely no idea.

Anyway. Let's get this straight. Sapphire Private High School was a mouthful of a name, a huge school divided into four big buildings and many smaller sub-buildings, way too much greenery, and way, way too many stuck-up snobs with bottomless-wallet daddies.

Like mine.

Thankfully, not all the snobs were as snobbish as they seemed. One of the lucky few that had full control of their sanity—in a sense—was my dear friend J.J. At the beginning of the school year, we found out we were locker buddies, had first and last period together every single day for some reason, and so the rest is history.

Isn't that such a touching story on how we became friends? I know, I know. Brings tears to my eyes every time I think of it.

"Hey," she greeted me when I walked over.

I grunted something unintelligible as a response.

She closed her locker door and looked over at me. "Morning mood again?"

"When is it not?" I flashed her a grin, popping my locker open. "Honestly, that clock is going to make me go mad."

J.J. rolled her eyes. "I won't bother with my usual speech. Just, please. For the sake of humanity: get rid of it."

I pulled some books out of my locker, perfectly calm, perfectly aware that I had maybe thirty seconds before the bell rang. "I won't," I answered simply.

J.J. gave me a knowing, slightly teasing smile. "I know."

I shut my locker and gave her a whack on the head, just in time for the bell to ring. "C'mon, you know-it-all, we're late for first period."

P-R-O-J-E-C-T : F-A-M-I-L-Y

Let's get something straight.

Science and I do not get along well. Heck, we're not even like my alarm clock and I. No, Science and I have a strictly hate-hate relationship.

Jeb was too selfish to give me some of his science-genius genes, in my opinion. He gave them all to Ella, that little suck-up.

In short, I paid zero attention to class, because my attention span seemed to be unhappy with me that day (when was it not, though?), and so relented into my subconscious mind…

I meant daydreaming, mind you. And what wonderful dreams they were… ah, burning the alarm clock… wait, no. Hammering down onto it.

Much more violent.

Now, don't you get too bad an impression of me. I had good grades. Not like Ella—I swear, her report cards seemed to glow—but good enough to make sure Jeb didn't have to pay for my grades, like the grand majority of the other students.

I wasn't that much of a cheater. Though I'd love to burn Jeb's money…

Ahem. Moving on.

After Science came Chemistry… which, you guessed it: I sucked at. And pretty badly, too. Honestly! Science and Chemistry are like brother and sister! Why can't they be just one class? Like… like… Chemience? Or Scemistry? Really!

…really… it's not such a bad idea…

Blah. After Scemistry, I had the class. You ready?

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, female dogs and holes in the butt… I present to you: Home Eco.!

Please don't give a round of applause. That day's class just doesn't deserve it.

Now, let's find out what had me so interested in dropping out when I started telling you all this. Shall we?

I entered the classroom and sat in my usual seat. JJ didn't have this class with me, but my friend Sam did.

Cue Sam entering the room.

He greeted me and sat in his usual spot, right beside mine.

Let's get the four-one-one on this class.

Mr. Henderson was in his mid-thirties at the time, and his single-best quality was cracking jokes. His worst… was coming up with assignments. 'Cause, man, those were freaking embarrassing. And terribly, mentally painful. Scarring, even. The horror!

No, seriously. That day's class was just proof of it.

There weren't all that many students in that class, around thirty in total. The overall class was actually split into two groups, each of fifteen. One would think that the easiest class in the junior program would be completely crowded… but no.

After that day, I understood why.

Let's see. I already introduced you to Sam, right? Yeah, he's that doofus that sits next to me. See him? Good.

A little bit after Sam came in, Mr. Henderson walked in, scanning the room, like always. There was only one empty seat, and considering I had yet to hear the swoons, sighs, and giggles (the SSGs, J.J. and I called them), Fang was clearly MIA.

Sure enough, about two minutes after Henderson came in, the door opened once again to reveal Mr. Ride in all his dark and gloomy glory. "Sorry 'bout that. I have a note," he said, handing some paper to Mr. Henderson, and taking his seat.

Three, two, one…

"Hi Fang," I heard about eight girls say, five of which then proceeded to giggle, two of which promptly sighed, and one of them actually came close to tipping her desk while trying to get a sneak peek.

Ah. See? The SSGs. I heard Sam groan next to me, and I chuckled quietly.

"We've seen worse days," I mumbled.

He nodded. "Remember when Catherine Barnes fainted?"

I laughed into the palm of my hand, slapping the desk with my hand. "How could I not? It's a classic!"

"Alright then, settle down class," Mr. Henderson said. He was grinning—considering how he'd been standing so close to where Sam and I were seated, I was pretty sure he'd heard us. "Today, I'm introducing you to a new project the school designed. You may recall how last week I mentioned that the entire junior class would have the same project, counting as your mid-term exam, correct?"

Everyone nodded.

"Well, we decided to move it up a bit, once the project was approved of."

Cue the general groan.

Mr. Henderson waved a hand, and the class eventually quieted down. "So…" he continued, "today my mission is to introduce you to PF."

Sam laughed quietly. He leaned over and said, "He's introducing us to Phineas and Ferb?"

I held in my laugh. "Sam… you watch too much TV with your brother."

"This project will mostly be about responsibility, teamwork, and a pinch of your own creativity, as always." Henderson made a face that warned me of what was to come next: "The project will be done in pairs…"

Cue the typical eight sighs, followed by: Oh, my gosh! I want work with Fang!

And then Henderson continued: "…all of which have already been picked out."

Ah, I knew there was I reason he was my favorite teacher.

Once the disappointed sighs, and the general groan cleared up, I looked around the room, absentmindedly wondering who I'd be paired up with.

My gaze met Dylan's, which was staring so intently at me, I could almost see the steam coming out of the top of his head. I glared at him, and turned around.

Henderson, if you want to keep your throne as my favorite, you'd better not pair my with that… that… thing.

Let me elaborate quickly on Dylan before I continue: Dylan had an obsessive infatuation with me—I didn't know why. He gave me the creeps—he seemed to be oblivious to that fact.

I'll admit, at first he'd been really sweet about his whole crush on me. I'd once even considered going out with him. But it didn't take long for his patience to wear out, and so he turned into the creep I'd taken to avoiding at all costs.

Besides, I'd vetoed relationships for the rest of my high school experience. Guys at this age were just… dumb. After the craptastic result of my last relationship, which had never actually made it to 'relationship' status, I'd decided to simply avoid the trouble.

Don't ask.

Now that we have all that down, let's move on to what Henderson was saying at the moment.

"First off, I'd like to explain what the project consists of. It's basis." He leaned on his desk slightly, the way he did when going into full-out teacher-mode. "As I am sure you know, our school carries out a charity project once a year."

Lissa raised her hand, but didn't bother to wait to be called on. "The one with the orphanage?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone flinch. I turned to get a better look, curious, but didn't notice anything. Shaking my head to dismiss the thought, I turned back to Henderson.

Mr. Henderson nodded. "Exactly. Every year, this school sends a select group of students to the orphanage, where they play with the kids and take them out on their best day ever. This year, though, we changed it a bit to suit our needs for this project."

He laughed. We must've all had the same confused look. Don't you just hate it when teachers laugh at your expense? It happened to me a lot.

"Essentially, you are going to be 'married' to your partner for a week. You'll adopt one of the kids from the orphanage during said week, and will treat this kid to the best week of his or her life."

I could practically feel everyone's mental wheels turning. Slowly. And then, cue the general chaos. Picture it however you like. It can't be far off from what happened.

"He's joking, right?" I heard Sam mutter.

My only response was slamming my head against the desk.

"Settle down, I'm not done yet," Henderson said. "The school has generously provided this class with fifteen apartments, all of which are scattered around the city. Keeping all of you in one building would be… ah, problematic. You will live there with your partner and adopted child for the week." Henderson paused. "Personally, I like the whole realism of the project. It's very different from what we usually do, here in the classroom."

I didn't think anyone agreed with him on that.

Personally, I thought it was all a bit overboard. Was the school seriously trusting teenagers—teenagers—to live on their own, with some random kid, for a week… and they don't expect any funny business? Was modern civilization really that naïve?

"Now, before I call out partners, any questions?"

Rebecca Mason raised her hand. "When does the project start?"

Mr. Henderson smiled at her. "Good question. The project officially starts next Monday morning, ending on Sunday night. Still, tomorrow I expect all of you to go with your assigned partner to go to the orphanage and pick out the child you'll be taking care of. You'll have to fill out a few papers, and bring them to me. When you bring over the papers, I will hand over a folder like this one," he said, holding up a folder that looked a bit stuffed up, "which has all the information you'll need, along with keys to your apartment. Any other questions?"

No one else spoke.

I figured they all either wanted to get to the partners part… or they were just about as frozen in shock as I was. Or they were so friggin' angry at Henderson that they couldn't trust their voices.

That last one kind of applied for me, too.

"Good," Mr. Henderson said. "Now, as for your partners… I took great care to pair you up with people you don't know very well, but can get along with—I did my best to avoid inter-student feuds." He gave us a cheeky grin. "For the most part, anyway. Also, remember that some of you have your partner in the other Home Eco. group alright? Meet up with them at lunch period or something to discuss this, the other group already had this class."

Everyone nodded.

Well, everyone except me. I was internally praying I wouldn't be paired up with Dylan. Because if I was… well, it was nice knowing you all. Tell my mother and Ella I love them… tell Jeb it's his fault I died because he enrolled me into that school… bury my alarm clock beside me…

"Alright… partners," he mumbled, looking over a sheet of paper. "Sam…"

The alluded shut his eyes hard, as if waiting for the room to explode.

"With Rebecca."

Sam sighed.

I gave him a grin, and patted him on the shoulder. His crush on Rebecca was no secret—to me, anyway. Besides, like me, I was positive he'd been praying he wouldn't get one of the SSG girls.

I would've put my own death on hold just to attend his funeral, had that tragedy happened.

"Lissa…" Mr. Henderson continued. "With Dylan."

The grin that spread across my face was perhaps a bit exaggerate. I believe I caught about three people staring at me, besides Sam of course, who had been laughing.

Humph. I mentally took back what I'd said about attending his funeral.

"Next are…" As he read the next two names, a slow grin spread across his face. I pitied the two poor souls he was about to announce.

"Max and Fang."

I forbid laughing. You are strictly forbidden to laugh, under orders of the great Maximum Martinez.

…I fell off my seat.

"What?" I sputtered.

To keep the rating PG, kiddos, I'm going to omit the long, rather disturbing string of curses that left my lips after that. And I'm going to omit the ones that went through my head, too. Those are a wee bit more dangerous.

After Henderson ordered me to sit back down, and once the SSGs had stopped glaring at me, only to lay their heads on their desks and sob quietly, I warily, cautiously, very slowly turned to look at Fang. He was looking at me… studying me. Of course, those dark eyes of his seemed to be boring holes into my head, trying to read my mind.

I'd always hated that look of his. It was as if he really could see my train of thought—knowing my every secret.

What's worse, he always managed to look at me that way while remaining impassive—I never, not once figured out what he was thinking just by looking at him. It was scientifically proven by the great Maximum Martinez that reading Fang Ride's mind was impossible.

Leaving aside the fact that the great Maximum Martinez sucked at Scemistry, of course.


Edited: 8.15.2012. Posted: 8.18.2012


AN:

Welcome to the story!

Whether you're an old reader re-reading the edited version, or a new reader checking it out for the first time, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. Review? :)

Also, check out the companion story to this one, Week in Hell, which is this story but in Fang's POV (in the form of blog posts).

Happy reading!

-DemiSpy.