A pair of hands threw him out into the night. He landed on the sidewalk, coughing as the truck sped away. He was shirtless and cold and thirsty and miserable.
He looked up with effort. He recognized the street name and slowly staggered to his feet. This was Max's street. His house would be so far away…
I could run.
But what if someone saw him?
I could just stop by Max's…
In this case, he'd have to risk it. He didn't want Max to seem him like this.
Despite the cool air he felt warm and feverish. Thinking about those things they'd done to him…
He shuddered.
No one seemed awake. All the windows were dark and no cars were driving past. This was his chance.
With a sudden burst of energy, he lurched forward. His feet pounded against the sidewalk, and everything became quiet. Could they hear him?
Paranoia crept into his veins. What if they came back for him? What if they hadn't meant to let him go?
The shrill sound of a police siren cut into the air. It surprised him so much that he stumbled for a second and fell down.
Facing the sky and breathing hard, he closed his eyes.
Someone had seen me…
Someone had seen me…
--
Max lay on her bed, her mind clouded. First of all, Jeb had mysteriously disappeared. Her mom and siblings were still acting weird. And Jared…
Her cellphone vibrated on her bedside table. Biting her lip, she lifted the device to her face. Another text from Jared. One of the many he'd be sending in the past hour.
Max didn't reply to it. She put it back down and stared at the ceiling. Iggy was downstairs eating dinner by himself. Earlier, she'd refused the food and said she wasn't hungry.
But now she just felt even more guilty.
Her bed creaked a little as she slipped out. As she walked towards the door, she caught a glimpse of a dark shape running. Mystified, she looked out.
The person suddenly fell down on their back. Max could see that it was a boy. And shirtless.
After grabbing one of her extra large t-shirts, she raced downstairs.
"Max--" Iggy said, but she was already out the door.
Max could hear the police sirens. She'd have to hurry.
The boy was unmoving now.
Oh, no. Is he dead? Max thought. She knelt down next to him, peering at his face.
It was Fang.
"Oh, my god. Fang," Max whispered. She lifted his head and felt something underneath him. She dipped her head to look.
"Max."
Her attention snapped back to Fang. His eyes were blinking open.
Max pulled the shirt over his head and helped him to his feet. "Can you walk?"
Fang's head just lolled back and then he was out cold again. The police sirens were getting terribly louder. Max looked behind her. Iggy was standing in the doorway, looking confused.
"Iggy, help!" Max cried.
Iggy heard the desperation in her voice and ran to her.
"Who is this?" Iggy asked.
"Fang." Max struggled to her feet, trying to lift Fang's body. "Help me get him inside."
"You take his left shoulder," Iggy said, supporting Fang's right. "Hurry. The neighbors are waking up."
The trip back in their house was hard, but at least the police didn't catch them. Max cleared the dining table, hurriedly putting the dishes and the food on the counter. Iggy set Fang's limp body down.
Fang mumbled something.
"Can you turn him over? I think there's some damage on his back," Iggy said.
"No!" Fang ground out. He shook his head weakly. "I'm okay. I jus' got los'."
Max took hold of his hand. "Fang, the last time I checked, you don't get lost in your own neighborhood. Especially after you've lived there for more than six years."
"Bu' I'm okay," Fang protested. He opened his eyes as if to prove it. "This shirt's too small."
"I'll go get one of mine," Iggy said to Max. He went upstairs.
Max stared down at Fang, who was looking around aimlessly.
"Where were you?" She asked softly.
"House." Fang gave her a 'no duh' look.
"What about school?" Max persisted.
"I was sick," Fang told her. He reached up with his free hand and wiped a tear that was rolling down Max's cheek. "Don't worry."
Max gulped. She wanted to tell him that she knew he was lying. Because a night ago, she'd snuck into his room and he wasn't there.
"Something bothering you?" Fang asked.
"No." Max shook her head. She smiled, and then Iggy returned with one of his white shirts.
"White," Fang said, sounding disgusted. But he was smiling.
Max went into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. When she came back, he'd already changed. Iggy was looking pale.
"Ig? What's wrong?" She handed Fang the glass of water.
"N-nothing," Iggy stammered.
Max wondered faintly why he looked like he'd just seen a ghost.
--
He was flying. Flying.
His dark wings flapped up and down. Some feathers came loose and spiraled to the ground. The moon was full and high in the sky. Below him, the houses went by in a blur. He sailed through the night sky, savoring the feeling of being calm and serene.
The wind was against him, but he was so much faster. From below, he could have been easily mistaken as a raven or crow.
The process of how he'd gotten his wings had been painful. But now, it was all worth it. What would everyone say when they saw him? Would he become famous? Or would they throw him in the circus?
A frown graced his face. No one would know. Not even Max.
Soon, his frown had faded and he was enjoying the feeling of flying again. Some birds had flocked with him, and they flew alongside each other.
Fang smiled.