*wipes brow*Whoo, scene number two! And so fast! Yay me! *pats self on the back*I'm so in love right now, my Fang…he's a darling. I actually made up some of this chapter—shocking, I know. I was convinced all I was good for was copying dialogue—so some of it actually DOES belong to me. But the characters and most of the rest all goes to James Patterson. JAMES, YOU ARE A GOD.
Anyway, rant over. Read and review, please!
SCHOOL'S OUT FOREVER
CHAPTER 70
"Just think of it as a recon mission," I suggested.
Max whirled on me. "What? I'm fine," she insisted, too quickly and too tensely for me to believe it at all. She twisted around in front of her mirror, checking again and again that her wings weren't visible through her hoodie. For once, that necessary bit of hiding made me ridiculously happy—that sweatshirt was totally loose. Sam-what's-his-face wouldn't be seeing much of my Max's figure. Thank God.
"Uh-huh. Usually when you look like that, I know you're about to hurl." I didn't add that I was the only one who knew, because she'd never show that much weakness in front of anyone else. Not even Ig (not that he could see it anyways). I wanted to rub that in her face a little. Would she ever be that open with this guy? She couldn't even let him see her wings. I loved her wings.
Max glared at me. "I'm fine," she insisted.
I didn't believe it for a bit.
The doorbell rang.
I gave her the single widest, toothiest grin I'd ever worn and went downstairs to greet Sam-what's-his-face.
(This bit here is mine. My Fang-in-shining-armor.)
I opened the door. First impression of the kid: weak. I couldn't help it. He was reasonably built, but when you spend all your time with either Erasers or supermuscled birdkids, you get used to strength. This kid just looked mousy.
"C'mon in," I beckoned with my head, tossing black hair everywhere.
Sam grinned innocently at me. "Thanks," he said with a smile, just the picture of innocent human intentions. I snorted internally. I could kill this guy without even really trying. Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up there, Fang, I caught myself. Why was I sizing this dork up like he was some kind of rival?
Because he is, some snide piece of reason in the back of my mind commented. Because he wants your Max. Duh. I ground my teeth. That worked, as far as I was concerned.
"So…you're Max's brother, right? What's your name?" The kid was looking at me, smiling awkwardly, trying to be nice.
That damn word—brother—for some reason, it drove me nuts. Maybe it's because I knew I didn't want to just be her brother. Maybe I just hated this kid's guts. Either way, I didn't care.
I didn't turn to look at him; I just stared up at the staircase Max would be walking down any second now. To go on a date. With this guy, and not me. I ground my teeth. "Nick," I growled, not quite able to keep my voice under control.
"Yikes," Iggy put in, leaning on the doorframe. "What's up, Sam? Don't mind Fnick here—" Was he ever going to quit with the Fnick? "—He's just a social stick-in-the-mud."
They hit it off from there, and I left. I didn't want to see Max come down those stairs. I didn't want to see her with him in a way she'd never been with me. Heat flashed across my skin, and my wings ached. All my muscles were tense, and I wanted to go back to the living room and rip that guy into little, little pieces before he laid a hand on my Max.
I went to my room and shut the door. Just shut, didn't slam. I spent one second looking around the room before my target became clear.
There was an aluminum baseball bat in the corner of the room. I don't know why. Maybe Anne just assumed that all teenage boys liked baseball. I picked that bat up in my hands and flexed my trembling muscles once. Then I snapped it in half.
Damn but that felt good.
I took each of the halves and twisted them into unrecognizable scraps. The sharp metal splinters jabbed into my palms, but destruction was such a wonderful release. It wasn't until I had worked that scrap of metal into nothing even vaguely resembling a baseball bat that I was finally satisfied. I licked the blood off my palms as the wounds began to heal. Thank you, recombinant DNA.
I kicked the mess of metal shards under the bed and laid down, trying not to go insane while I waited for Max to come home.
CHAPTER 73
I heard the car in the driveway. Ooh, so Dorkboy had a car. I'd give it the same tender care as I did the baseball bat.
Standing up, I pulled the drape back the tiniest bit, so I could peer out onto the front step. They stood there, facing each other, both grinning and laughing and happy. I gritted my teeth. Why? Why couldn't it have been a total disaster? Okay, now you're just being a selfish loser, Fang, I berated myself. Because I was. I wanted Max to be happy, that was true. I just…wanted her to be happy with me.
Fists pressed against the wall—too hard, I was going to break it!—I watched powerlessly, miserably, as he took her shoulder in one hand and her chin in the other. I wanted to scream. I wanted to do anything and everything to stop what was coming next.
Max's eyes went wide when he kissed her. For a moment I hoped wildly that she'd freak and push him away.
She didn't.
Dorkboy went in again, this time with his arms around her waist. Max just closed her eyes and kissed him back. I wrenched myself away from the window. I fell to my knees on the floor, gripping the wrought-iron bedpost in both hands. It twisted and distorted to the shape of my fists, as I fought back a howl of rage. I could not kill him. Especially since Max kissed him back. If he was what she wanted…dear God, please let him not be. I didn't even want to think about it. I was near vomiting point already. Please, let him not be what she wants.
I heard the front door open and Max came inside. I brought my breathing under control as Max dodged Anne so skillfully you would have thought the girl'd been doing it her whole life. By the time Max's door closed, I was composed again. The bloodlust, the tinge of red over my eyes had faded. Just like with Ari, it was still there, just suppressed. But I had myself under control again.
So I went to Max. What else would I do?
"Whoa," I commented snidely, covering my eyes with a hand. "Your happy glow. It's blinding." It actually was. Ugh. I shut the door. I wanted to talk to my Max, and no way was Anne going to come be all "bedtime, bedtime" when I wanted to talk to her. Speaking of.
"They wanted to stay up to wait for you, but Anne made them go to bed," I explained. Max smiled, only adding to the goddamn blinding glow. I didn't say anything but…god, she looked gorgeous happy. I mean…she was…beautiful.
"Good thinking on Anne's part," she said, and I had to snap myself back into the conversation. The kids' bedtime was not what I wanted to be discussing. There were far more pressing matters at hand. Like when exactly I would be given permission to remove Dorkboy's limbs.
I leaned on her desk and crossed my arms to hide the fact that they were shaking again. Even I could hear how tense my voice was when I asked, "So? How was it?" Ugh, how wretchedly stereotypical. Was I one of Max's gossiping girlfriends now? The very thought made me want to stab myself. My jaw flexed, and I caught the flash of recognition in Max's eyes. Damn, she knew me too well. When you hardly have facial expressions people tend to have a hard time figuring your real emotions, but Max could read me like a book. Comparatively, at least.
"I saw him—what's the phrase? Oh, yeah—'stuck to you like glue,'" I quoted her, and she blushed, bringing me both gratification and shame. I felt bad and all revenge-tripped at the same time. "So I guess you got along all right."
"Yeah. There's a lot of that going around," she retorted after a second. Ow. She got me there. I really did kind of feel bad about kissing that girl. She was nice and all, but…she wasn't Max. There you are, ladies, that's all you have to do to date me—just turn into Max.
"So you like him. I don't have to kill him." My voice was tighter than an obese kid's stretch pants. In my mind, I asked the real question. So do you like him enough to stop me from tearing him limb from limb? Please say no.
Max shrugged. A shrug. Well, at least she didn't say yes. "Yeah. He was really nice." Open mouth, insert foot. Dammit! "We had a good time."
I picked up the uncertainty in her tone and latched onto it like a life preserver in an ocean. "But…" I pried.
Max dropped her head into her hands and started to rub her temples. My mind went oddly sideways at that moment as I considered doing it for her. But then I refocused on her and what she was telling me.
"But so what? He could be the nicest guy in the world, but it doesn't change anything. I'm still a mutant freak. We're still in a situation I hate more every day. We can't trust anyone. We can't solve the code mystery. We can't find our parents—not that it would help if we did."
I didn't say anything, though I raged on the inside. I wanted to tell her right there, that of course nothing about Dorkboy mattered, she wasn't a mutant freak, and even if she was, it didn't matter, because I was a mutant freak right along with her, and goddammit, I loved her.
That one sentence stuck out. It made sense. I pulled it out of my train of thought, stretched it, punched it, and it held. It worked. I thought about it, and pieces fell into place. Everything. Max. My Max. I loved her.
"I saw Ari tonight," she said, and I looked up. I couldn't just tell her that, of course. And Ari was a big deal, too. "He was standing outside the ice cream shop. He smiled at me." Ooh, that big galloot had a death wish. "And there was someone with him…" I didn't miss the pause. It meant something. Everything meant something with Max. "I saw—"
She stopped suddenly and turned to look at me, and there she was. She wasn't like this often—it was always up, her shield, but right now it had fallen, like it sometimes did when she looked at me. My Max.
But what she said next just freaking scared the crap out of me.
"Ari had me with him. There was a me outside the window."
I blinked. Once. The first thing that popped into my head was that Max was imagining things, but…Max didn't imagine things.
"I saw a flash of blond-streaked hair in the van that day they attacked us. And tonight I saw that same hair, outside with Ari. I thought it was my own reflection in the window. But it wasn't a reflection. It was a me." It was there in her eyes—she was sure of this. I didn't question her.
But this was the scariest crap I'd heard in years. "Holy crap," I muttered as my brain whirred, trying to sort the sudden input of really, really weird information. "A Max on the dark side. Pretty much the worst thing I can think of. Jesus. Another Max. A bad Max. Crap." This was bad. I couldn't fight Max. I loved Max. What the hell was happening right now? This was really, really wrong. Take our leader and clone her? What was going to happen?
"And that's not all." Dear Lord. What more could there be? "You know how I said if I went bad, I'd want you to—do anything you had to, to keep the others safe?"
My voice went guarded. What did she want from me? "Yeah."
"The reason I asked about that…" She inhaled and looked away from me. I didn't like that. I wanted her eyes on mine. Because I didn't want to think about what she was going to say next. I'll admit it, I was scared witless. "A couple times, when I've looked into a mirror, I've—seen myself morph. Into an Eraser."
I sat. I processed. I tried to picture it, but I didn't want to think about it. Eraser or clone or real, I couldn't fight Max. I just couldn't. That ability wasn't in my genetic makeup. "I touch my face, and it feels just the same. Human, smooth," she continued. Absently, I thought, Yeah, smooth! You've got the softest, most beautiful skin…But it really wasn't the time to be thinking that. "But the mirror shows me as an Eraser." Max looked down again.
My mind was whirring. It explained a lot. It explained Max's suddenly seeming suicidal nature. But…Max the Eraser…
I didn't believe it. I really didn't. They might be able to create a new, evil Max, but they couldn't change mine. They couldn't make my Max into something other than what she was meant to be.
"I bet you looked kind of Pekingesey," I concluded.
Max's head snapped up so fast I worried she'd get whiplash. "What?"
Picturing Eraser Max was really quite entertaining. "Bet you were kind of cute, pup girl." I growled at her. "Rrrff!" I did a little pounce at her. She smacked me in the head. I dodged it, and she jumped up, looking seriously mad, so I held my hands up and tired to stop laughing.
"Look," I finally said when I could talk without giggling like a psycho. "I know you're not an Eraser. I don't know why you saw that in the mirror, and I don't know who the other Max is, but I know who you are, all the way through." You're my Max. "You're not an Eraser. And even if I saw you as an Eraser, I would still recognize you." Because you'll be my Max wherever you go and whatever you become. "I know you're not evil, no matter what you might look like."
Probably the longest continuous speech I'd ever given. Also the most honest.
To my astonishment, Max was crying.
"Thanks," she whispered to me. I stood up, hesitated for a second, then reached out and smoothed her hair. God, it felt like silk under my fingers.
"You're fine," I assured her.
"Don't you dare put any of this in your blog," she ordered me, Commander Max again. "Don't even think about it for a millisecond."
Yeah, like I was going to tell the world my Max had gone out with someone else.
For the time being, I just told her, "Don't flatter yourself," and went to bed.
Standing on my own
Remembering the one I left at home
Forget about the life I used to know
Forget about the one I left at home
