Disclaimer: No own. That honour goes to JP (:
A/N: (: You guys went above and beyond with the level of response for the first chapter, it was miles above anything I expected. Thank you so much (: If you reviewed anonymously, then I apologise for not being able to reply to your review ):
Oh, and by the way, the song from the first chapter [as if you don't know it] is Misery Business by Paramore, the most amazing band ever. Heheh. Oh, and I'm English, so bear with me with the American stuff, if you will. Enjoy (:
"What's he like then?" Ella asked, perched on the edge of my bed. I rolled my eyes, strumming another note on my guitar (named Amy, after Amy Lee from Evanescence. I know, I amuse myself sometimes, I really do) and wishing she'd just go away so I could hurry up and learn the opening riff to American Idiot by Green Day.
I love my sister. I really do. Honest. But sometimes, she really does get on my nerves. Like when she tells me I should stop stuffing my feet in my ratty Converse and buy some high heels (she can just keep on dreaming with that one). Or when she tries to set me up with some guy I hardly know (how I laugh at her futile attempts). Or, like now, when she wouldn't shut up about about boys: did I like him? Wasn't he gorgeous? Did she think he liked her? And so on.
"Ma-ax," she whined, bouncing up and down on my music-note patterned bedspread, knocking my fingers off Amy.
"El. I'm trying to play here," I motioned towards Amy with a flick of my fingers.
"Well tell me and I'll go away!" Oh for crying out loud. There really was no hope, was there?
"Fine," I pushed Amy onto my bed, and leaned towards her conspiratorially on my elbows. "He's a boy." I leaned away and rolled my eyes at her exasperated expression. Couldn't she tell I had better things to do than gossip about Fang?
"What colour hair's he got?" she tried.
"Red with blue and green streaks." The sad thing was, for a moment, she actually believed me.
"Max."
"Ella."
"Please tell me?" Ugh. The Bambi eyes.
"Promise to go away?"
"Swear!" I sighed.
"He's got black hair that's way too long for his face, brown eyes, and dark skin. He never smiles." At anyone except me, at least. Then again, Iggy'd managed to get a twitch of his lips out of him, which I'd realised was almost as rare as a full smile.
"So..." WTH did she want? A freaking FBI report? Actually, I wouldn't be surprised.
"He's really quiet, and doesn't really talk much." The conversation we'd had about ruling the world had been the most I'd heard him talk all day, including the time me and Iggy hung with him while he put away all his clothes and stuff. Jane had taken Angel and Gazzy out, so we had the house to ourselves, too. It was a good afternoon, but then how could it not be with those two?
"So he's good-looking?" Oh. That's what she wanted. Why wasn't I surprised?
"Didn't really notice," I lied. Hey, what do you think the consequences would be if she knew I had noticed? She'd think I liked him, and I so didn't. He was just a friend, if that, to be honest. I definitely did not like him.
"Ugh," she huffed. "Max, you are useless sometimes."
"Hey! Offended much?"
"You'll get over it," she winked as she closed the door behind her, finally leaving me and Amy in peace at last.
The guys didn't know I played guitar, yet. I wasn't anywhere near as good as Sam (not that I'd ever admit that... ever), and I could only imagine the teasing I'd get if I messed up even one note. Still. It was kind of fun, playing. And I'd even managed to incorporate it into a couple of songs I'd written. Did I just say songs I'd written? Yeah, forget that. Max Ride doesn't write songs. Unless, you know, they're all electric guitar and ass-kicking lyrics, not sad and acoustic guitar chord-filled. Which mine totally aren't.
Oh, thank God my phone just started letting rip about The Black Parade, saving me from my strangely retarded thoughts.
"Max here, 'sup?"
"'Sup? Really, Max?" It had to be Iggy, didn't it?
"Shut up, just because I'm cool enough to say it and not sound like a retard."
"I beg to differ." Oh. And Fang as well. This just got better and better. Iggy started laughing in the background, and I rolled my eyes. And yes, I do know they can't see me, it's for effect, okay?
"What do you want? I have a life, you know."
"Really? Fang, did you know Max has a life?" Oh for crying out loud. Seriously?
"Unfortunately." I bet his lips are twitching. In fact, I'm pretty damn sure they are.
"Whatever, both of you. You trying to make me hang up?"
"No," Iggy sobered up immediately. "Just wondering who you have for homeroom?"
"Uh..." I mentally went through the list of teachers I had. "Oh, Mrs Davies."
"Thought so. Fang has the same, meet us at the gates tomorrow?"
"Sure. Might be kinda late, though."
"Why?" Fang asked.
"My little sister Ella has to do her make-up." Iggy laughed, and I could imagine Fang's lips moving again, just a little.
"Hey, we still on for tomorrow night?"
"Oh yeah," I remembered. "Sure. My place after school, wasn't it?"
"I thought it was at Dylan's?"
"You sure it wasn't at Sam's?"
"Mum says I asked if it was okay to have it here..."
We burst out laughing as we realised neither of us had a clue where we'd be rehearsing tomorrow night.
"I'll text Sam," I promised. "He always knows."
"'Kay," Iggy agreed. "Well, we're off. Want our company for a couple of hours?"
"Nah, I'm sick of you," I laughed. "Not really, just got Mount Homework to climb, if you know what I mean." So I lied. To my best friend. Sue me.
"Not really," Fang replied.
"But when do we ever? Anyway. See you tomorrow!"
"Yeah, yeah. See you."
"Love you to death!" I rolled my eyes at his high-pitched voice that was so obviously an imitation of Ella I wanted to punch him.
"Piss off."
"She has a problem with commitment," I heard him telling Fang before I hung up, rolling my eyes at him.
So they were close. Already. Hey, it's cool. At least Iggy wouldn't be instant-messaging me every five minutes to try to copy my maths homework. He never got away with it. Mainly because we were in different classes, but you know, never underestimate Ig's stupidity.
I drew Amy back into my arms (that sounds slightly wrong, but you know what I mean. Stop thinking like that) and strummed a few more chords, looking at the tabbed sheet in front of me where I'd scribbled a few chord patterns.
When I'd gotten the hang of it, I started humming along.
Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy
Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy
Do you know the enemy?
Do you know your enemy?
Well, gotta know the enemy
Violence is an energy
Against the enemy
Violence is an enemy
Bringing on the fury
The choir infantry
Revolt against the honour to obey
I was just really getting into it, slamming the chords out on Amy (hey, even though she's acoustic, she packs a punch. Say different and I'll hit you) when someone knocked on my door.
"Max?" It was mum.
"Yeah?"
"Don't you think it's time to go to sleep?" Confused, I checked the time. Holy cow (don't laugh). Since when did it get to eleven pm?
"Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess," I shrugged as she opened the door and leant against the wall.
"Good day?" she asked, smiling as only my mum can. Thank God both me and Ella got her genes, and not dad's. I mean, no offence to him or whatever, but... well... yeah.
"Yeah," I smiled involuntarily at the memory. "It was fun, and Fang's alright." Mum raised an eyebrow. What? I'm not allowed to like someone quickly? Okay, I might have some slight trust issues, but still!
"Really," she deadpanned.
"Yeah!"
"You told Ella you didn't like him."
"Yeah well, that's Ella!"
"Still," mum laughed, moving towards me to wrap an arm around me and draw me into a hug. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help hugging her back. She has some mystic power, I swear, because if anyone else hugged me that hard? Well, they wouldn't enjoy it, let's say that.
"Don't tell Ella," I warned, though I didn't even know why I was saying that because it wasn't like there was anything to hide.
"I won't," she winked at me.
"Oh, yeah. Can the band practice here tomorrow?" Hey, if it was here I better check it's okay.
"Oh, Max..." Mum's eyebrows furrowed, and she ran a hand through her long, blonde curls. "I have a work friend coming over... I thought you said you were all at Iggy's tomorrow?" Oh. So that's where we were practising. Iggy's idiocy knows no boundary. See why I'm going to be the one ruling the world? You know, after my army crushes Fang's into oblivion? Because everyone else is just too stupid. :)
"No sweat," I shoved Amy into her classy black case, fastening it quickly and placing it beside my keyboard (also a secret from the band). "Well, night, mum."
"Night, Max," she left, shutting the door behind her. My mum, folks. Round of applause? Yeah. She's cool, huh? We don't really have any secrets, any of us. Even if I lie, Ella normally gets it out of me in the end. Like the guitar thing, etc. We're closer than most families. I guess it's because dad left when me and Ella were still little kids, so mum was all we had... she knows me better than myself, sometimes. Scary.
Still. I love them both, and if anyone messes with my family, you mess with me too. And trust me, you don't want that with a future world leader. Me, not Fang, before you start.
X X X
"Hey, Max!"
"Hey." I wasn't in the mood for Iggy. Actually, I wasn't in the mood for any company, at all. It was Monday morning, and, as always, I had a crappy case of Monday-itis. Yeah, it exists.
"Yo," Fang nodded in acknowledgement. How does he do that? I mean, seriously. If I went around saying yo to everyone and doing that weird nod thing, they'd all burst out laughing at me trying to be badass. Which would be a major mistake on their part, seeing as when I rule the world I can just dump them in a pot of lava or something.
We started walking through the normal crowds gathered round various lockers. I didn't miss the number of slav's nudging one another and pointing at Fang, then giggling loudly. Looks like Fang's quite the ladies' man, eh? Actually, that's not strictly true; he was walking with his head down, as if he was embarrassed. Hahaha. Fang's embarrassed.
"I'm heading this way," Ig pointed to the opposite corridor to the one me and Fang were about to go down.
"'Kay. See you... at break," he wasn't in either of my first two lessons. Art, then Drama. Fun lessons, as some people would put them.
"Yeah," he grinned, already walking away. "We have math last!"
"You're not in my math class!" I yelled after him, rolling my eyes, but he just shook his head. I could imagine the smile on his face.
"Guess what?" Fang asked me, once we were walking again. Hey, it talks! He hadn't spoken a word, besides yo, which doesn't even qualify as a word (and not because I can't use it), all morning. Then again, me and Iggy do sort of talk a lot. Hey, it's just the way we roll.
"What?" I asked as someone almost slammed me into the wall. I cursed, but didn't retaliate. See? I learned years ago not to hit anyone bigger and possibly stronger than you. So now, when I do, it's because I over-estimate my own strength, which, as my mum says, is fair enough, and just another sign of my big head. Just for the record, I have a completely normal-sized head. Seriously. Stop looking like that.
"I've recruited Dumbledore," he almost smiled again. It took me a moment to figure out what he meant... oh, of course. Hang on. He should've given up by now! Silly, silly boy. Didn't he know better? Oh. Right. We've only known each other for a day. If that.
"Nu-uh," I contradicted. "I have Gandalf, and they switch beard-trimming tips every other month, so Dumbledore's supporting me."
Another almost smile.
"No fair."
"Never said it was," I grinned as I pushed the door open for him. See, I can be polite, too. Sometimes. When I feel like it. Which, you know, is practically never, but that's an unneeded detail.
"And what would you say if I had Edward Cullen?" I almost burst out laughing.
"That wimp? Anyone can kick his ass. Specifically Dracula."
"Who's dead," he felt obliged to point out.
"Maybe I can raise the dead then." Nope, I'm not quite sure where that come from, either.
"Right."
"I can!"
"I never said you couldn't." I glared at him, and decided that was the end of that conversation. And just because I ended it doesn't mean I lost.
"Miss, this is F—Nick." I introduced him shortly to Mrs Davies, a stocky woman with grey hair. She liked me (don't act surprised), mainly because she ran the hockey team, and I liked hockey. Look, it's running around with a big wooden stick and ruining people's shins' with it. What's not to like?
"Fnick?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Nick," Fang corrected quietly. "But my friends call me Fang."
"Ah. Right." Because that's completely normal, isn't it Mrs Davies? "Well, just take a seat next to Max, for now, and we'll sort out places some other time. Got a timetable?" Fang nodded mutely.
"Right. Well, Max, look after him, alright?" Me? Why me? He had his own army to look after him... made up of fictional characters. Right. Okay.
"Sure." I threw my bag, wanting it to land on my seat, but I'm not exactly the best shot. It arched up, and landed straight in the queen slav's lap. And also my worst enemy. Well, she would be, but I don't like to use those childish terms – I prefer arch nemesis. Just because she stole the oompa-loompa's make-up didn't automatically make her cool, like she obviously thought.
"Chuck it, Lissa," I called as she held up my black 'A Rocket to The Moon' emblazoned rucksack.
"Of course it was you," she sneered, trying to glare; I couldn't really tell, I was too busy being blinded by her neon-orange skin. She chucked it feebly, much worse than mine, and it ended up at her feet. Fang's lips twitched, and I stifled a giggle.
"For crying out loud," I rolled my eyes, and plucked the bag from under her feet. By now, though, she'd clocked Fang, and was just staring at him like the idiot she clearly was. Fang, obviously embarrassed, studied the floor. I raised an eyebrow at Lissa, then grabbed Fang's elbow and led him to the seat next to mine. Lissa tossed her auburn hair over one shoulder snottily, then started talking to her right-hand slav, Brigid.
"What've you got first?" Fang asked me quietly, laying his non-crumpled timetable on the table in front of us.
"Uh..." I grabbed mine from my bag. By now, it was a crumpled ball and completely unrecognisable as a piece of paper, let alone something with writing on it. Fang's lips twitched again, and he helped me smooth it out. We managed to work out that we had most lessons together, except for Spanish (I was taking German) and History (he had Geography. Hahaha).
"I can get to know the features of the land I'm going to be ruling," he shrugged, but he was almost smiling again.
"Right. Of course." He glanced at me again, his dark eyes twinkling.
"Of course." I rolled my eyes, smiling.
"Whatever you say," I stood as the bell rang out loud and clear (adding to the headache I'd already got from general Monday-ness). "Come on. Art first. Nice and easy."
He rolled his eyes at me, then gave me a half-smile. You know what? They're even better than his full smiles. Killer half-smiles.
A/N: Okay, totally clichéd ending, but hey. (:
Review?
