Authors Note: Holy crap guys! Your reviews make me so happy! Keep 'em coming. PLEASE! We passed the one hundred mark! YAY! (:

Chapter Ten

- Fallen Angels -

"What the-!?" I shouted in panic, going on the defensive immediately.

"Shh!" Cam hissed, pulling me through a door set into the wall, one I hadn't seen before. We tumbled out into a deserted hallway, and I recognized it as the East Wing; which was unused by the school.

Okay . . . why the heck was Cam Ravenbeck, Cam Ravenbeck, the epitome of cool at RHS, bringing me into what was widely known as a make out . . . amongst other things, spot?

"What the hell was that!?" He spat through clenched teeth, backing me up against a wall. His eyes were flaring dangerously, blazing with anger. This dude was seriously scaring the crap out of me!

"What do you mean?" I breathed, trying to sound calm even though on the inside I was having a major meltdown.

"Back there in class," he whispered coldly, his expression stony, pressing my back into the wall even farther, which seemed almost impossible yet it happened all the same.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted, even though I had the sneaking suspicion that he was referring to my stripping of his character in front of the entire class.

"All those . . . things you said."

"I just did what Mr. James told me," I replied, taking a few discreet breaths to calm myself.

"Yeah, right." He laughed bitterly. "You embarrassed me in front of all those people. Do you understand how fast this is gonna spread, newbie? I'm going to have to shoot down rumors every which way I turn."

"Well that's your problem, not mine," I said smartly, finally able to gather my bearings.

"No, you're the one that caused this!"

"You know what?" I cried, pushing myself off of the wall. Cam was startled by my sudden movement, and I caught him off guard. He stumbled back a few steps, giving me a hair-raising glare. "The only reason your so mad, is because you know what I said was the truth."

And with that I spun around and clambered back into the other corridor, leaving a stunned Cam behind me.

- }{ -

"So far you have tactfully evaded any confrontation with the enemy, but I can smell the head on collision coming. It's sort of a rotten scent; masked by something a bit sweeter, like it's trying to hide itself."

"No Aly, that's my lunch your wandering nostrils have detected," I replied in disgust, spearing the glob those cooks have dared to call food with my fork, wrinkling my nose at the pungent odor wafting off of it.

After reminding myself to pack a lunch multiple times last night I had forgotten, though that wasn't totally surprising. Today the gods must have been smiling down upon me though . . . very maliciously with pitchforks in their hands. Both choices had been extremely unappealing, though I tried to pick the lesser of the two. I still rated it a seven on my I'd Rather Not Eat This scale. Right before say . . . roasted desert rat? Not that I had ever tried such an entree before . . . but it somehow sounded familiar. Probably some French delicacy. Oh wait, that was snails, wasn't it?

"Yeah . . . you might be right," Alison agreed, eyeing my tray like she was afraid the mush was going to jump up and eat her; and who could really tell with this crap anyway?

"Alright, let's just blow this popsicle stand. The bells about to ring anyway. We can evade some more confrontations by scoping out the hallways before the period's over," I suggested, my chair already scraping across the floor before she had a chance to answer.

"You can't live your life on the run, Max. They'll catch up to you eventually," she replied condescendingly.

For some odd reason her claim sent chills up my spine, and a sense of foreboding settled in the pit of my stomach. Her words held a note of familiarity to them, though I couldn't imagine why. To make things even stranger, I had a sudden flashback of six kids sitting around a campfire, torn up and dirty . . . yet smiling and laughing all the same. But I could swear I had never seen them before . . . all except for one . . . who suspiciously resembled Cam; which made me think that maybe it had just been some little fantasy of mine.

"Max . . . Max?" Alison's insistent voice finally breached the void of my consciousness, and I was snapped abruptly back into reality.

"Are you coming or not?" she asked impatiently, already having walked a few paces away.

"Oh, yeah . . . sorry," I muttered, collecting my things quickly before following after her.

How strange . . .

- }{ -

"And we survive yet another period," I said sarcastically, bumping shoulders playfully with Alison. She was such a worry-wart sometimes. Like she actually expected Mallory to ambush me sometime during school hours.

"Yeah, but only because Cam and Mallory were suspiciously absent from class," she insisted.

There was no need to remind me . . . because we all knew they were probably making out under the bleachers.

Ugh.

"Okay, because you just knew that fifth period History was when this supposed 'fight' was going to go down."

"I did! I'm very intuitive about these things Max, trust me."

"Right," I said with an eye roll.

Now came the time when we parted ways, and I was shipped off to English where I was forced to sit in silent torture beside one Cam Ravenbeck; as if we hadn't been through enough drama today.

Great.

"See ya later Allie-gator," I joked, giving her a wink.

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes.

"Good bye Max."

"Eh, you're so boring sometimes!" I called out after her as she retreated into the dense wall of students. In reply she flipped me the bird without even turning her head.

"Ooh, that one's new," I murmured, surprised at her blatancy.

And then it was time for English.

- }{ -

"I read over your writing papers from yesterday. Some were very satisfactory. I could definitely see some improvement. Others were lacking in a few departments . . . give or take," Mrs. Mullins announced, waving her stack of papers in the air as she spoke. I didn't miss the way she pointedly glared at Christopher Sanchez as she said that last bit, and he didn't either by the way he shrunk down in his seat.

"One piece in particular caught my eye though . . . and I'd like to ask that person to read it aloud, as an example of what fine writing truly is," she said, smiling warmly.

Murmurs broke out across the room, and I saw one girl that was sitting smack dab in the front row, centered completely, sit up straighter with a proud grin. She even started to stand a little as Mrs. Mullins said, "The paper is titled 'Fallen Angels, by Max Martinez'. Max, would you mind terribly reading your piece to the class?"

What!?

Oh no . . . Oh no, no, no. This was not good. Not good at all. God, why couldn't I have picked a better topic to write on!? Why did I have to take that particular subject and turn it into an assignment?

"Sure," I replied, even though everything inside me was screaming 'NO!'.

Slowly I wound my way to the front of the room, taking my paper with a timid smile, which Mrs. Mullins returned with a grateful one. I stood up a little straighter, clearing my throat. I knew my face was heating up as I began, and I was practically boring a hole into the paper, I was glaring at it so intently. I really didn't want to see my peers snickering at me.

The sky was a clear, cloudless blue; stretching on forever like a vast ocean of calm water. There were no clouds in sight, just us . . . and the wind. From every angle the horizon was an empty void. For once there weren't any disturbances in the atmosphere. For once . . . we were safe from any harm they could inflict.

Laughter bounced all around me, a smile passing like a shadow upon my lips. Excited exclamations and cries filled the open air, the memories of wide grins imprinted in my mind. The soft 'whoosh' of feathers could be heard between the ecstatic outbreaks. Six individual pairs of wings beating in time, keeping ourselves aloft.

My heart was soon to bursting from the happiness swelling inside me. We were usually so depressed, our moods sour. Not a lot could be found that was good in our lives . . . but today, as we flew across the plains, no matter how shortlived the moment, we could pretend that nothing was wrong.

We would simply fly, soaring high above the rest as we dropped off our problems at ground level, waving good bye as we left them behind.

His hand brushed mine softly, with the lightest of pressure. I couldn't see his face, but I imagined the usually non-existant smile that was no doubt upon it and my world lit up like a million suns. His smiles were the best . . . his smiles were special, because they were so far and few.

Suddenly a new noise pierced the calm of the atmosphere. It was mechanical, like an engine. A chopper, its proppellers spinning in quick succession, lying a beat for what was soon to be a haywire chase.

But then, as I moved forwards, gaining speed, there was another chopper in front of us . . . then on either side. For once, they had us totally surrounded. We couldn't go any farther up, the air pressure was too suffocating. Our only option was down . . . but they had that covered too.

Could this be the end?

I reached out, grasping for his hand. In a time like this, I needed his strength to help me make a quick decision as the others swell moods vanished, replaced by an ever increasing panic.

But it was too late.

I hadn't thought fast enough.

I hadn't protected them like I had promised I would.

I had failed.

One by one I heard their agonized screams as they were shot from the sky, snipers stationed in the choppers with their guns full of an unknown substance. It was a mystery whether they were truly going for the kill, or whether they were just knocking us out so they could deal with us properly later.

Soon we were the only two left, and I clung to his hand as tightly as possible. I felt a prick in my neck and the world began to tilt at an odd angle. My vision was blurring, and the outer edges were become fuzzy and darker every second that passed. I couldn't help but cry out as his hand was ripped forcefully from mine and I went tumbling through the open air, unsure of my surroundings.

Then the world collapsed down on me and everything went a deathly, nightmarish black.

I tried not to let on how affected I was by the content of my paper. I did my best to still my shaking hands, but they continued to quake audibly.

It was just a stupid dream! One that I had been having about once or twice a week since a few months ago. It wasn't like I understood anything that had been going on. The thoughts inside my head were entirely foreign, like I was inhabiting the body of a different person. I hadn't even seen any of the people's faces, just their voices . . . and his touch.

Yet that still didn't explain why I was so freaked.

Slowly the students began clapping, until the room was filled with a thunderous applause. Mrs. Mullins was beaming proudly, and even Christopher seemed impressed. Front Row tried to hold back her amazement, but she couldn't help but gaze at me in wonder.

It hadn't really been that good, had it? I mean, all I had done was write down everything I saw . . . and since I had a really good memory, I even remembered most of the observations I had made in the dream itself.

"Very good, Max. You have real talent," Mrs. Mullins said softly to me, taking back the paper I handed to her.

"Thanks," I muttered uncertainly, my face flushing ever so slightly.

I stumbled back to my desk, my knees giving out a bit as I sat. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I felt that same sensation that I was being watched as I had yesterday when I was leaving the school. Without trying to be sneaky I glanced over at Cam, only to find him watching me with a calculating expression. There was some emotion in his eyes, one I couldn't decipher.

"What?" I hissed underneath my breath, so I wouldn't interrupt Mrs. Mullins lecture.

"Nothing," he replied after a moment, looking sharply away.

Even when I wasn't staring at him, I still couldn't get that expression out of my head . . .

Authors Note: Review and tell me what you think? Hopefully this chapter explained some things . . . or maybe just created more questions . . .