A/N: Welcome to the belated Chapter 9! Hope you enjoy; it's the longest chapter yet, though it's probably the biggest filler yet...still, it's got some important stuff in it.
I want to thank all you readers so much! I have over a thousand hits, and I'm so excited that this piece is going well! At least, I think it is, but I've had worse delusions before... :)
Anyway, thanks again, and I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride; James Patterson does.
Claimer: (Daring, I know!) I claim these words and the plot. So no copying!
Chapter 9
Breakfast consisted of power bars and warm juice. Yum.
"I miss your cooking," Nudge told Iggy. "All those yummy omelets and bacon and sausages and stuff. Oh, remember that one evening we spent at the hotel, and you made that really good thing that was like, something-bread or the loaf of meat or—"
"It's called meatloaf, Nudge," he said, amused, though she continued to talk right over him.
"…Everything in—hey! I thought meatloaf was that nasty gunk that comes out of a blocked-up sink drain!"
Gazzy, Angel, and I laughed, while Iggy looked faintly horrified at having a Flock member so ignorant in the ways of food.
Beside me, Fang reached across the table for another power bar and began peeling off the wrapper, hands finally steady.
"He was teasing you," Angel told Nudge, exasperated.
Fang choked on his bar.
Caught.
I relayed my just-now-made-up plan as we packed up, which mostly involved just stuffing everything in our backpacks.
"Alright, guys, we're flying north today, but we're gonna crash early, maybe at a hotel or something like that."
"Ooh, a hotel!" And Nudge was off. I had had absolutely no idea a hotel offered more than beds, showers, and maybe free breakfasts, but she proceeded to name hundreds of possibilities, ranging from wall colors to pools to views.
"Why?"
Ah, her opposite. Once again, thanks to my psychic powers, I knew exactly what he was talking about…
"Why what?" Okay, never mind.
"Why stop early?" Fang finished stuffing the first aid-kit in his pack, then slung it over his shoulders, the first done. Guess he was feeling better.
I shrugged. I hadn't planned on telling him, at least not for awhile. And no, it was not because I was worried about him dropping out of the sky at any given moment. Though that was an incentive. My main reason involved, um, decisions. Important decisions.
Don't look at me that way; I knew what I was talking about. I think.
He glared at me through a screen of black hair. Crap, he thought I was trying to take care of him, which he absolutely hated. I rolled my eyes and mouthed, later.
Still suspicious, but he nodded.
Angel skipped up to me, her primary-colored backpack bouncing and rattling.
"Hey, baby, ready to go?" I asked.
"Yepper." She beamed. "Can I have the iPod today?"
"I don't know, honey; it may be someone else's turn." I glanced over at Gazzy, who I assumed still had it from yesterday. "Anyone remember whose turn it is with the 'Pod?" We rotated each day, though all it really did was dictate who got to choose the songs; most of the time we cranked it up really loud so multiple people could hear.
"Think it's Fang's," he said, yanking the zipper shut on his bag.
"She can have it," Fang said quickly; he was in the middle of doing a 360.
I furrowed my brow. Angel hadn't done that mind-influencing thing, had she?
"No I didn't!" she protested. Fang quit spinning around to glance at her, then me. His expression was blank for a moment, then his brows rose when he realized what Angel had denied.
"I chose," he assured me.
The rest of the Flock gathered around me, all ready.
I grinned at them. "Let's fly!"
We jogged out into the field, then started running flat-out, picking up speed for lift-off. We were in no specific formation—scattered, really—but I automatically ran a couple strides behind Angel, the slowest. Iggy's almost spindly legs gave him long, fluid strides, while Fang seemed to dig into the ground, powering forward. Nudge was softer, less gritty. Gazzy chugged along, too short to keep up with the other boys. Angel seemed to bob up-and-down as she ran.
Then Fang flung open his massive black wings and leapt, the air catching hold. He pushed down, surging upwards, and even from behind I could feel the intensity emanating from him.
The others soon did the same, the backs of different colored wings popping open. Nudge gave a little squeal as her feet left the ground.
"I love this!" she cried, then giggled, pumping her wings rapidly.
I tell you there is nothing that feels more right than the air grabbing your wings and pulling you up, that sudden sensation of becoming weightless. I couldn't help but smile as I unfurled my own and jumped. Sure, we did this everyday, but today we weren't running for our lives, and we had the rare chance to enjoy being part bird.
That thought brought me back to reality. Namely, that big, important decision I had to make. Because, apparently, I was the only one who could make it. Not that some people weren't trying and prod me in the right direction…
The answer, as of yesterday, was a nice solid no. But then, I hadn't been threatened then. So now I was leaning in the direction of a reluctant yes.
I still hesitated. This whole thing was so stupid. Irrational. I was fourteen, for Pete's sake. And I hated threats—hated how well they worked, hated the powerlessness; I just hated complying with them, period.
But didn't I have to do it? For the Flock. For Fang, before it was too late. Because, quite frankly, I wasn't stupid enough to think those scientists were done doing…whatever it was they did…to him. Though how they did…that...from a distance was just another worry to add to my record-breaking list.
It's closer than you think. Great, more cryptic Voice.
I rolled my eyes and adjusted the tilt of my wings to a steeper incline. The earth beneath me was rapidly pulling away, shrinking into something insignificant. We'd resumed our usual formation, and I couldn't help but sneak a glance at Fang.
His face was set, not revealing anything. That is, it didn't until he gave me a sideways look, a corner of his mouth twitching up. Crap, I hadn't wanted him to notice. And why the heck was he fighting a grin?
Ugh. Confusing. I looked ahead again, back to contemplating my future.
Dragonology's Dictionary: "You can hardly make a friend in a year, but you can lose one in an hour." –Chinese proverb
