So here you go, right on time this week. I hope you enjoy.

There are about three things that I'm absolutely sure of. The first being, I'm covered in dirt. The brown muck is rubbed into the knees of my jeans so deep that it will be a stain, and jammed under my nails so it will be there a week from now. Some more of the soil is smeared across my face and being caked into the creases of my palms.

The second thing I'm certain about, is that it's hot. The sun beats down on me from above, plastering my black polo shirt to my skin in a layer of sweat. When I reach up to wipe some from my brow, more dirt smudges across my forehead.

The third thing that my brain realizes with sureness, is that I don't really know Maximum Ride at all.

I mean, yeah I know that she loves cookies and Kool-Aid, she is very childish when it comes to games, she has a way of getting anything she wants, she is irritating but funny, she makes me want to pull out my hair most of the time but makes me smile, she has a soft spot for little kids, but I don't really know anything about her.

The only thing she's ever told me is that her parents died when she was young, her brother raised her, and she knew Jeb. I know that she knows her way around a knife, but any kid who lived on the street should know how to defend him or herself one way or another. But that's it.

But that should be fine right, she wouldn't want to talk about her hard times; it's normal right?

But then why is her name on a folder that was buried by my father, before I knew she even existed.

Those are the three things that I know.

I'm dirty.

It's really hot out.

And I don't even know my best friend.

I slide backwards to lean against my house in support, still clutching the closed folder in my white fists. Not even opening it yet, the dread has already pooled like a sickness in my stomach.

Holding my breath, I flip the flap open and watch as papers fall out on the the dirt covered ground.

Confusion hits me when I look down at a white sheet. It's littered with letters and numbers in a way that has no pattern, only a few words distinguishable in the number and letter vomit. I have know idea of what it says.

But that's okay, because I know that I'm covered in dirt, and the sun is beating down hotly on me. And I don't know Maximum Ride.

Thumbing through the papers, another name pops out at me.

Ari Ride

And below it is seems to be some sort of complicated formula, then more sequins of numbers that I don't know anything about.

I still know that I'm covered in dirt.

With shaky hands, I close the folder and shove it back into the Ziploc bag. Then I once again burry it, only this time knowing what's hidden under the bed of flowers.

As I pat down the dirt, an odd calm settles over me as my mind finally decides it needs to think.

I already knew that Max knew my father, she told me she lived at the office with him when her parents died. But why did he never even mention her to us, what's the big secret?

I walk into the empty house, my footsteps echoing around the walls, but to me it's all too loud. At least my thoughts are too loud; bouncing around the confines of my mind.

It's been months since I first met Max, a chance encounter, both looking for my dad's killer. Ever since then, my body has been telling me that she is dangerous, yet she still became one of my best friends.

And she can't be all that bad if she looks at Angel the way she does. Max is annoying, irritating, and so very frustrating at times, but she is also fiercely protective. I've watched her beat down a bully that was pushing Gazzy around. I've seen her run through an entire amusement, park without slowing down once to even think, all to look for Angel when she got separated from us.

She's defended Iggy when he was blamed for setting the gym on fire, and she even puts up with Nudge's makeovers and shopping trips.

And she's helping me find Killer Ride.

I don't care, I decide. I don't care what she's hiding, I know that she has a bad past and I don't know the full story, but what ever it is, it doesn't change who she is.

She will always be Max to me; nothing will change that.

I don't need to think about Max's past, I just need to focus on finding Killer Ride and killing her. She wont kill another person, even if she is crazy.

I walk into my room ready to fall onto my bed face first, when I stop in the doorway.

Then my lips tug up into a reluctant smile as Max sits cross-legged on my bed looking at me with the softest eyes I had ever seen.

"Hey." She says and smiles as I walk forward again to wrap her in a hug.

"Hey." I mumble, breathing in her sent of cherry Kool-Aid and chocolate. "Where's my mom?" I ask falling onto my back with her still trapped in my arms.

She never lets anyone touch her like this, except maybe Angel. She always shies away from it so it makes me wander why she's letting me do it now. I guess this is under special circumstances.

"Nudge has her." She says finally relaxing her tense muscles and turning into my chest. Then she wrinkles her nose and strains her neck back, though making no other moves to pull away.

"Why are you all dirty?" The incredulousness in her voice makes me chuckle.

"I was laying in the garden."

She leans forward and makes a show of sniffing my shirt. "Well you reek of sweat and dirt."

"Would you like me to go shower?" I ask a little hesitantly, because surly if I get up now she wouldn't let us return to this position.

She pauses as well before tightening her hold on my waist. "No, not right now; just hold me for a bit."

I relax again and breathe in her familiar smell that seems to wrap itself around the room.

After a few minutes, she sits up to look down on me. "Look." She whispers, pressing her palm to my cheek that suddenly feels really warm. "It's not cold."

My own hand comes up to lay over top of hers and I realize that yes, her hand that is usually so cold, has heat spreading into my own skin, not just from my body warming it.

A smile curves my lips, but don't feel the need to say anything. "Thank you." I blurt out anyway.

"For what." She asks, confusion clouding her features.

"For being here; for being my friend."

A weary frown pulls down her lips and she sinks back into my arms. "Yeah..."

"What's wrong?" I ask.

Her arms tighten, almost to the point of pain, and she buries her face in my neck, breathing in my sent. I feel her slight tremors almost as if she's fighting off tears.

"Max?"

"...Nothing." She answers.

I know that she's lying but I don't push. She'll tell me when she's ready.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think; only a few chapters left.

Thanks for reading.

-feather flyer