Here is the next chapter! Sorry for it taking so long!
The most-asked question : Is Fang and Max 'together'?
My Answer : They aren't officially. You know in the old books, when they'd kiss but wouldn't be all 'holding hands' and kissing at every moment? Yeah, that's what they are. It's after the fifth book though. If you're confused, PM me and I'll try to explain it better.
Fifteen
Chapter Seven : Jeb
I spent half the night packing things into our backpacks. I waited until twelve, which was when Ella finally shut her laptop and went to bed, to get up from the air mattress. I quietly collected all of our stained and torn backpacks from their place hanging in the laundry closet, and when I was finished I prowled the house looking for our scattered belongings.
It was hard to grab all of Angel and Nudge's stuff from the living room, since that's where they were sleeping, but somehow I managed to get every piece of clothing, fashion magazine (Nudge's, of course), and small stuffed animals (Angel's, though I don't know how she got them) without waking either of them up. A big accomplishment with all of our avian sense of hearing.
Around four I was slowly feeling my eyelids drooping, the jumpiness from the idea we could be attacked at any moment slowly declining. I had just finished the boy's room. Iggy had heard me and helped by handing me clothes from the drawers and then promptly falling back to sleep as soon as he was done. With all the other places finished, besides the laundry room where dirty clothes were being washed, I just had the kitchen left.
But I barely remembered anything except reaching for something of Fang's, then sitting down for a minute, thinking that the cushions on the chairs were comfy... I awoke to a blanket and a pillow behind my head plus the sound of the Gasman's obnoxiously loud snoring.
"Morning!" Angel said cheerfully, running into the room and wrapping her long arms around my neck. "Fang and Gazzy found you asleep on the kitchen table, so Fang brought you back in his room. He's making breakfast now with Iggy. Fang said that you worry too much and you shouldn't lose sleep over some phone conversation and... yeah, that's it."
She gave me an innocent and happy smile that I returned. For now, she was the kind, playful Angel that I had known since the E-shaped house. Tomorrow she'd probably be in one of her rebel moods that have started ever since we've come here.
"I'm not a rebel," She replied, reading my thoughts. "What does that mean anyway?"
"Nothing." I responded automatically, hearing Dr Martinez's voice in the kitchen. I remembered everything: My suspicions that involved her turning us in, Jeb involved in something important, the fact she was keeping a secret from me...
Angel picked up on all of this, surprise etched on her small face.
"We're leaving?" She squeaked, and I suddenly realized the surprise was really sadness. She didn't want to leave.
This could be a whole lot more difficult than I thought.
"Max, I need to tell you something."
Those words sent ice water down my spine. My fork held the best bite of my chocolate chip pancake, and now it was frozen in mid-air, while I waited. What was she going to say? 'Oh, I'm sorry to say this, but I'm sending you all back to your doom'. Yeah, that's perfect. Why would she tell me in the first place? Guilt? She wanted to give me a head start so the Flyboys could have more fun chasing us?
She seemed to be waiting for me to answer her. I didn't, so she just continued on.
"I talked to Jeb yesterday..." She began slowly, twirling her blueberry pancakes around on her plate. My fingers tightened on the fork in my hand. "And I've been trying to convince him for a while, but he still can't come to your quinceañera." My back stiffened like wood in surprise. "Oh Max! I'm so sorry!" She exclaimed, and my fork clattered onto my plate with a loud echo.
"What?" The Gasman was the first one to speak, his mouth full of food.
"Jeb? Coming to my quince-rera?" I asked in disbelief, right after I found my voice through all the shock.
Mom shook her head in her hands, looking up at me with a defeated expression.
"He won't come! He says he doesn't want to miss work. Work! He won't even come to see his own daughter's fifteenth birthday celebration!" She exclaimed sadly. I exchanged a small glance with Fang, who was just as astounded as I was.
"So Max won't have a father-daughter dance?" Nudge inquired, looking fairly calm and reasonable.
Wait – father-daughter dance? With Jeb?
"No, she won't." Mom said tearfully, rubbing her temples and ignoring my widened eyes and abashed expression. "He told me he'd call me back after he spoke to the boss, but there's no saying that he'll just make something up... Oh, hopefully there's some feeling in the soul of his."
"What if I don't want him to come?" I demanded, but no one heard.
"What will Grandma Martinez do when she finds out?" Angel wondered. She was met with various faces of dread and deep mutterings of my grandmother on a murderous rage.
"What if I don't want him to come!?" I said loudly, trying to get their attention. But the cordless phone next to Mom rang, and she glanced at the caller ID.
"It's him!" She said happily, cutting me off. Nudge, Angel and Gazzy went off to the kitchen with her and Iggy decided to collect plates and bring them to the sink. But I knew better– He wanted to hear what Jeb said just as much as the other three did.
So I sat against my chair, swirling the remaining piece of pancake in the maple syrup. It was cold and rock hard now, so there was no point in eating it. My brain was going around in circles, thinking over and over how this could have possibly happened. My fath– I couldn't even bring myself to say that word. 'Father'. I never had a father, Jeb was just a parental figure for a year or two. I'd never, ever call that man my father.
"I don't want him to come either." Fang said from beside me. I almost jumped, he had been so quiet I'd forgotten he was even here.
"Welcome to the club. Seems like we packed all those backpacks for nothing." I said, staring at the wall, where a bunch of out backpacks had been cleverly left behind a potted plant, an umbrella holder, the shoe rack and just randomly placed around the door. I sighed.
"By the way, I know this isn't the right time or anything..." Fang started, interrupting my thoughts. "What do you want for your birthday?"
What a question. I forgot the predicament around me while I thought. What did I want for my birthday? My mind drifted back to birthday parties at the old house, which involved a box of cake mix, a mixed CD we shoplifted from a music store from down town, and maybe a new shirt or little hug coupons. But that was the past, simple stuff. I didn't really want anything except for Jeb not to come. That would be the ultimate present.
"Hmm..." I thought aloud. "Maybe next time you find me asleep in the kitchen, you could move me to the bed set up for me in Ella's room instead of yours. This way you don't have to sleep on the floor."
He gave me an exasperated look, and opened his mouth to get my real answer. But he was cut off by the cheers in the kitchen.
Apparently, Jeb had said yes. He was coming to my quince-rera after all.
So Jeb's coming down!
What could happen?
And what in the world will Fang get Max for her birthday?
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