Read, Review, and Enjoy!

I don't own Maximum Ride. But, damn, do I wish I had wings.


We were out of food. It happens occasionally in a house full of bird-kids.

And, when we ran out of food, Iggy and I go grocery shopping. Mostly because Iggy cooks and because I'm the only one old enough to drive that isn't completely paranoid to go out in public, someone in love with said paranoid person, or an extremely talkative sixteen year old. Plus, I liked going grocery shopping with Ig.

We drove the pathetic excuse for a car -it was like Frankenstein, a whole bunch of cars trying to be one vehicle- because we usual brought home a bunch of food. Like a car load. I'm not even joking.

Thank God that Max has that unlimited ATM card.

We had been to the store so many times that they thought we worked for an orphanage because otherwise we wouldn't be able to explain the vast amounts of food that we buy.

"Pasta?" I asked gazing at the grain products.

Iggy didn't answer and I turned to look at him, worried. He was tense, stiff as a board and I immediately went on the look out for anything and everything.

"What is it Ig?" my voice was strained. I was ready to fight whatever had Ig acting weird.

He grunted. "The guys at the end of the aisle, they're talking about you." I instantly relaxed.

I perked up my ears and listened but all I could hear was whispering and laughter, no distinguishable words. I glanced down at the three guys. Young, no older than twenty-five -dressed like college frat boys.

"What are they saying?" I was curious.

Iggy's grip on the cart tightened -I thought I heard the plastic handle crack, but I couldn't be sure- , his pale knuckles going completely white. "You don't want to know." His voice was almost as tight as his grip.

I shrugged. "Fair enough. What kind of pasta do you want?"

Iggy glared down the aisle, angered by something I couldn't hear. "Whatever you want." His voice was still strained.

I dumped several boxes of spaghetti and macaroni noodles in the cart since Iggy was obviously preoccupied.

I heard him breathing hard and glanced up at him. His glared had turned murderous and his jaw was clamped shut tightly.

"What kind of things are they saying Ig?" I placed a hand on his arm, hoping to calm him down. I wondered if they had started talking about him -making fun of his blindness- and if that was the case, I would break their arms.

"Sick, perverted thing." his hissed out through clenched teeth.

"Ignore them, Ig. They're not worth the trouble. Besides, it's not even like I can hear them. Just ignore them." I said as soothingly as I could.

"I can hear them." he protested, still glaring. "They can't talk about you like that."

"It can't be that bad."

He gave me a look that said it was.

I can't imagine what they could say about me that would make Ig that mad. I got the impression that if they said another thing he was going to run down the hall and beat them to a bloody pulp.

I head a round of laughter from the guys at the end of the aisle and Ig's grip on cart tightened more -this time I was sure it cracked.

"Come on Ig; let's go get the rest of the stuff on the list." I urged and he gave me a tight nod. I pushed on the cart a little and he let go, sure enough there were cracks in the blue handle. He let me go in front of him and followed me solely on the sound of the cart wheels. I noticed how he shifted between me and the three guys -who were making their way down the aisle after us- subtly, but not subtle enough.

"Hey, green-eyes!" one of them called, presumably to me. I ignored them but Iggy tensed again, ready for a fight. They were right behind us now. "Hey, babe, how are you doing?"

"Ig," I whispered. "Let's go." But, he was past listening.

"Hey sugar, what's your name. An angel like you has to have a name." another drawled, southern accent.

"My name is Kiss My Ass." I snapped.

"Feisty, I like it." the first one spoke again. He had greasy hair, a too white smile, and sideburns. "You owe me bucks Austin." he said looking at the southern guy.

"But, seriously sweetheart, what's your name? Mines Christopher, in case you were wondering." the first one continued.

"Why would I care, asshole?" I snapped, again. I mean really, it was pretty clear I wanted them to go away. Why couldn't they take the message?

"Just thought you'd want to know the name you'd be screaming later on tonight." Christopher smirked, pretty amused with himself. I shot him a disgusted look. Then, get this: he winked at me.

Iggy was about to kill this guy, I swear. His expression spelled murder.

"In you're dreams pervert." I spat grabbing Ig's fist pulling him back, trying to get him to follow me. He didn't budge.

"How'd you know baby?" he took a step closer to me. This was also a step closer to Ig.

Ig stepped in between us, blocking me from the creep.

"Get. Away. From. Her." his voice was cold, menacing.

"Wait- are you?" Christopher laughed. "You're blind." He seemed to think this was the most hilarious thing in the world.

"Get. Away. From. Her." Iggy repeated voice unchanging.

"What are you going to do about it Blindy?" the second guy -Austin- snickered stupidly. God, were they all morons?

"Ig, let's go." I whispered again.

"I'm going to kick you're ass." Iggy assured him, ignoring me -something I was really starting to dislike. Get this, Christopher laughed. No, I'm not joking.

God, this guy was an idiot.

"Ig, let's go." I said a little louder, pulling at the back of his jacket. The blind boy ignored me, again.

"I'd like to see you try." Christopher smirked.

And, with that, Iggy's fist collided with his face, hard.