Hello girls of the Internet. Iggy here. (Actually, it's Gazzy and Iggy's dictating like I'm his secretary or something. Iggy's visually challenged and keyboarding would be sort of an issue.) Max is temporarily unavailable. Extremely temporarily. As in she's in the shower and I'm uploading this secretly.

Because she's definitely not telling you everything.

For example, she isn't telling you that no matter how many times she tells us explicitly there is a BOYS ROOM AND A GIRLS ROOM, there's ONE boy who gets to break that rule. Can you imagine who that is, dear readers of our fearless and hypocritical leader? Let me give you a hint—his name is Fang.

Okay, look, I understand if she doesn't want us like assuming or whatever, but like… if he gets to go over there and um… hang out with Max, why can't I… hang out with Ella? Totally unfair. Like, it's nepotism. Does that apply to your boyfriend? I don't know, whatever. (I love how he thinks I don't know what they're doing. 'Hanging out' my ass. I'm eleven, and he's the one who told me about that stuff anyway. I mean, he lost a bet with Dylan and Fang, but still.)

It's not just that, though, it's that she isn't telling us everything, let alone you. Max has always had this huge superiority complex, but this is getting ridiculous. I mean, we've been here for three freaking weeks and we still don't know squat about what we're even going up against. Maybe all of us don't just want to sit around and

Sorry, but Max came out of the shower and chased us around for her laptop. We've now locked ourselves in the bathroom. Max is pounding on the door. We fear for our lives. (Why do I let him get me into this stuff?) But anyway, why can't we actually fight these guys? This is so not like Max. She says she's working on who they are, and that we can't just jump in because we don't know where to go, but I just want to punch something.

Oh, crap, she's calling me James Griffiths. I'm really in trouble now. I'd better go. Goodbye, ladies, just remember that Max isn't as benevolent as she makes herself out to be. (Just because she doesn't want him to bang her sister? I don't think that counts as cruel. —Gazzy)

—Iggy

I am so, so very sorry for him. I swear to God I will strangle him the next time that the opportunity presents itself. He'd better be careful, though, because we live in the same house—well, hotel.

So Fang and I have been working, despite what Iggy would have you believe (honestly, does he think we just make out all day? If we did, he'd have died of starvation by now because the boy can barely get himself a bowl of cereal. He's seventeen for God's sake), on who's still alive and evil and has the resources to storm the island.

"Okay, so we've got all the usual suspects," Fang said last night while we were WORKING ONLY, IGGY. "Itex, the DG, whoever the hell was trying to kill me for my freaky immortality key…"

"Oh, my God, I forgot about that," I said, because hey, when you're under the impression no one was still trying to kill you, you don't have to catalogue motivations of psycho killers. Which include your own (I shudder at the word) father, Dr. Jeb Batchelder. Ugh. I haven't decided if I wanted him to have survived the attack on the island yet.

"Yeah, well, Itex was destroyed…"

"Yeah, well, so was the world, according to the scientists, but that didn't seem to happen, considering we're renting a hotel," Fang said.

I looked at him in annoyance. "Do you just start talking when you want to debunk my theories, or…?"

He grinned and kissed me. "That won't get you off the hook every time," I said, still glaring at him. (Why, yes, I am leaving this part in to make you jealous, Fang-girls. Oh, and fine, I guess we were working 98% of the time. Of course, 2% can change a lot. We're all living proof of that.)

"Are you sure?" he asked, and kissed me again.

"Yes," I grumbled, resolve admittedly wavering a little (shut up Iggy). "This could be something new, you know," I reminded him. "We used to have several baddies at a time."

"Yeah, but most of them are dead," he said.

"Ooh, could you check how many are alive?" I asked him. He nodded and started to type. After a while, I sighed and said, "Could you take that into the boys' room? I really want to sleep."

He smiled and kissed my head. "I'll take first watch while I work then."

"Ugh, wake up Iggy when you're done," I moaned, collapsing onto the bed and kicking off my shoes.

He rolled his eyes as he walked back into the boys' room. "Night, Max," he said, closing the door. I fell asleep but was shaken awake at a little after 1 a.m., about an hour and a half into my much-desired 'good night of sleep'. (Ha-ha. That's like never happened in my life ever.) "Here's the thing about our suspect list," he said excitedly. (I know right—Fang, excited? That's what woke me up.) He dropped his voice to a whisper as Nudge threw a pillow at his head. "They're all dead or disbanded."

I sat up and took the laptop. Sure enough, it was all right there in front of me—none of them were still active.

"Did you check Gunther-Hagen and Chu?" I asked him. Of course, they were among the lamer of our enemies, but it was worth a shot.

"Well, you saw G-H die, and I checked Chu—gone, too. But did you know Brigid worked for him?" he asked me in slight shock.

I sat up straighter. "I TOLD YOU!" I shouted, earning three pillows thrown at my head by Nudge, Ella, and Angel respectively. "Sorry," I whispered, but I smiled smugly at Fang as he glared evenly at me. "I knew nothing good would come out of your crush on Red-Haired Wonder Number 2."

"Number 2?" he asked.

"There was that girl in Virginia, and then the 21-year-old doctor who was a bad guy anyway," I said. "Got a thing for redheads?" I joked. I joked to hide my secret deep-rooted fear. (I'm only kind of joking.)

"Obviously not," he whispered, pulling me to him. I pushed him away.

"There's a nine-year-old who can read minds in this room," I said, smirking.

"Ooh, then I'm really in trouble," he said. It took me a while to get it, but he got a pillow to the face when I did. Angel could read minds. "What is up with you people?" he hissed, smoothing out his hair.

"You look like Justin Bieber when you do that, you know," I said, smirking again.

"He doesn't even have that hair anymore," he mumbled. "Shut up, there's a fourteen-year-old girl in my house, I have no choice but to know these things," he added defensively when I looked at him, clearly asking why the hell he knew Justin Bieber's current haircut.

"Whatever," I said, rolling my eyes. "Anyway… so this is something new?"

"Looks like it," he said. "We should check it out."

I groaned. "Can we check it out in the morning?"

He sighed. "Okay. I'll wake up Iggy so I can sleep, too," he said, and left for the second time. I drifted back to sleep, but woke up at six a.m. to Gazzy asking for breakfast, so that brings my sleep total to 6.5 hours. Yay.

So, there you go, Iggy, we haven't been sitting on our butts. We're looking into it. (I didn't know you read my blog, though. That's nice of you.) We're looking for new potential enemies right now. In the meantime, you need to trust us and wait. And stop complaining that I won't let you in the girls' room to 'hang out' with Ella.

—Max