Well. I was bored. So for about thirty minutes, I sat at my computer making exactly 21,905 pages of capital I's. Yeah. I know. I have no life. Then, I thought, wait! I could just write a new chapter! That's where this new chapter comes in.

Max POV

When I saw Meagan run out of there, my first thought was 'Why the heck is she running?' Then I realized.

She had spent the entire however-many years of her life in the School, the only good part having been being in that 'dream' and falling in love with Iggy. Now, she could finally be reunited with him, and he doesn't even remember her. And this new person… he's in love with me still.

I run over that in my head. It hurts.

"Uh… sorry, Ig… James," I said, standing. "I gotta go see Meagan."

"Okay!" 'James' answered. "Me and Mister Fang will play!"

"Just call me Fang," Fang said as I started out of the room. "And you can just call her Max."

I walked quickly out of that room and tried to listen to where Meagan might be. Even though my ears weren't as good as Iggy's, I could still hear pretty well. But nada.

I decided to go outside, thinking that any mutant bird-kid in her right mind would like to go into a forest when she was feeling down. I know that's what I would do if I didn't have my spot on the roof with Fang.

I stepped into the kitchen and to the back door.

"Hey, Max!" Ella spoke up. "Meagan just rushed out there. She looked like she was crying. Do you know what happened?"

So I was right.

"No, Ells. I'm gonna go get her right now."

Ella smiled and waved as I darted out the door and through the yard. Now I would be able to track her.

And I did, through the trees and the grass and moss and dirt. We bird-kids travel distances fast, so it took me about half a mile before I could hear her in front of me.

It took me another quarter mile to catch up.

There she was, standing in the middle of a clearing, stretching her black-and-indigo wings as if about to take off. She was rubbing her eyes furiously with the back of her hands and sniffling.

"Where do you plan to go?" I spoke up, and she jumped, turning around to see me.

"I… I don't know," she answered, sounding utterly helpless. I stepped forward, holding out my arms.

"So why are you even planning to go?"

"Because!" she shouted back at me. "It's not like anyone cares if I go! I bet half of you wouldn't even notice!"

Meagan was angry, tears running down her face. There was a crazed, almost terrified expression in her eyes.

"Iggy will care." I said this stiffly, my voice cold. Iggy will care.

Meagan froze, frantic.

"Iggy's not even here! And he loves you!"

I averted my eyes, knowing that what she said was the truth. But still, I just couldn't let her leave. Iggy needed her.

"Iggy will care, and maybe the rest of us won't. But we'll notice."

"Ha," Meagan scoffed. "Like that matters." But she had let her wings relax slightly, and I knew she wasn't planning on taking off anytime soon anymore.

"Meagan," I started again. I was having an effect on her. I didn't want her to leave. "If you want us to care, you need to stay so we can get to know you. I mean, we hadn't known you existed a week ago!"

Meagan continued to stare vaguely up at the sky, blinking furiously. She rubbed her sleeve against her nose.

"You," she said, her voice soft. "You have everything. I wish I was you."

I paused. I felt slightly flattered. No one had ever told me they wanted to be me before.

"But… but you're not." I was beginning to understand Meagan a little more. "And no matter what you do, you'll never be. You are your own person. And you now have people who are willing to get to know you, become your friends, and eventually love you. Even if you can never be me, are you willing to give that up?"

Meagan shook her head. I took several steps forward until I was right in front of her.

"And Iggy. Did you know, after we rescued him from that 'dream', he was so depressed? He always used to talk in his sleep, all about you. About how much he missed you, etcetera. He used to sleep all the time, and he never said anything, but I knew it was just so he could dream about you."

"Really?" Meagan implored, looking into my eyes. I noticed that she was a tad bit shorter than me; it must be because she spent a longer time in the School, therefore receiving less nourishment.

"Really. And just because he's become a different person… well, I'm going to fix it somehow. And when he comes back, and he knows you're here, he'll be ecstatic."

"Really?" Meagan asked again.

"You have no idea."

All was quiet for a few moments, then Meagan spoke up.

"I… I'm sorry," she said, drawing her wings back into her back. "I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I should give you guys a chance before I go darting off into who-knows-where."

"Of course," I answered. "Besides, you're growing on me already. And Ella and mom are absolutely delighted to have a new sister and daughter."

She grinned at me, and I smiled back. Then we headed back to the house together, side by side.

Fang POV

'James' was fun.

I mean, no matter the fact that he was in my best friend's body, he was an adorable seven-year-old boy. He was so excited to have friends. 'James' had lived in the School his whole life, with no friends, no one to care for him. And now he was playing with me, and despite how much I missed Iggy – so much I felt as if my heart and lungs had been torn out – I couldn't help it. It was like playing with Angel or Gazzy when they were little.

"Fang, this is fun!" 'James' said. We had been going over the different toy cars Gazzy owned; 'James' had inherited Iggy's ability to feel colors, and was marveling at all of them.

"Yeah," I agreed, looking into my brother's face. I wouldn't give up on Iggy, but I needed to do what me and Max had promised; build memories. Maybe all of 'James' entire identity had been artificially created, but 'James' didn't know it. He needed a friend. And even though Max said we'd get Iggy back, I couldn't delude myself. Iggy was gone, and I doubted anything could bring him back. So I was going to make friends with 'James'.

"Boys," Dr. Martinez said, sticking her head into the living room. Her gaze lingered for a moment on 'James'. "It's time for lunch. Wash hands."

'James' cocked his head, then turned to me. "Wash hands? I never did that for meals."

"Well, you have to do it here," I told him, standing. "Here, I'll show you where the bathroom is."

I'll have to admit, but even if I could accept 'James' being a cute little boy, it was still slightly unnerving for a 'cute little boy' to be taller than me. And, hey, maybe Iggy didn't have the ability to actually grow a mustache or beard, but he definitely had facial hair. That was sort of awkward.

Then again, we could always say it was just amnesia when we were out in public. It wasn't at all, but it would make sense to a stranger.

I showed 'James' the bath, shower, toilet, sink. I washed my own hands, then Iggy… um, 'James' washed his.

But 'James' merely put his hands under warm water for a moment, then pulled out.

"No," I spoke up. "That's not proper hand washing! Use soap."

"Soap?"

I sighed. "Here."

I took Iggy's long hands in mine and stuck them under the faucet, turning on the water, and put soap all over Iggy's hands. 'James' rubbed them half-heartedly for a little while, then rinsed them off and turned off the water. He then dried them with the cloth towel.

"Give them here," I said, taking the hands to inspect them. I don't know why, but little kids generally brought out this paternal instinct in me. 'James' was no exception.

"Good…" I said, inspecting them. Clean hands.

But then I noticed something.

My eyes widened in shock as I saw marks over Iggy's wrists. I pushed up the sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt, and got an even bigger shock when I saw the marks go up all the way to the crook of his elbow.

Scars.

And they aren't scars from Erasers or experiments. These scars are neat, even, criss-crossing, straight. Perfect. Yet so horrible.

"What…" I whispered, horrified. "These are…"

The scars cover both of Iggy's forearms, so completely that it looks as if all the skin is entirely scar tissue. Of course, we mutant bird-kids heal quickly, easily, so our scars are often barely noticeable. These scars even look faded enough to have occurred maybe two years ago.

But two years ago, we were out of the School. Supposed to have been out of the reach of all harm. Safe.

And we hadn't been attacked recently in any way that could have injured Iggy's arms so.

Which leaves only one alternative.

And it means that the razor Iggy bought when we were ten had been used in ways it wasn't supposed to have been.

I'm sorry that I haven't been updating as swiftly as pandorad24. She's just too awesome with the updating. Seriously. I can't even compare. I hope you all forgive me.

And please REVIEW. Criticism. Advice. Suggestion. Praise. I love it all.