sorry it took so long!

this may be the first chapter i've written from scratch. all the other chapters had been pre-determined somehow, either a copy/paste from the collassal archive of random scenes on my computer or taken from my notebook.

we'll see how it goes. . .

disclaimer: don't own maximum ride.


28. my past, your past

"What are you. . .looking at?"

"Shit!!" I jumped so, so, so bad at that!! Like, seriously, I actually dropped the laptop and almost squealed like a sissy. I whipped around so fast I cricked my neck.

"Holy ba-jeezus, kid!! Don't freaking do that!!"

Angel yawned and rubbed her eyes sleepily. She'd woken up and crawled over to lie behind me on the bed. Beyond her, at the little table, Fang looked up from his own laptop, frowning as he realized for the first time that I was doing something.

"I started having a weird dream," said Angel. "There was a computer and a bunch of words and numbers and pictures and stuff. . ."

"Uh. . ." It sounded like my apprehensive thoughts had drifted into our little mind-readers mind as she slept.

"Where'd you get that?"

Fang's voice made me jump again, and I whirled around to glare at him. "You guys need to stop doing that!"

"Where did you get the computer?" he repeated stonily, unfazed by my anger. I rolled my eyes.

"I stole it from Con and them, jerkwing. Where else?"

"And you thought you'd just keep it from us?" he asked irritably.

"No, actually, I forgot about it until now. Back off."

Angel tapped my shoulder and asked, "What's even on it, anyway?" I hesitated, trying to think of how to explain, when she either read my mind or actually looked at the computer screen. She gasped. "Are those about us?!"

I winced at her loudish tone, which ended up waking the other four members of the flock and Total. Max was at us first, because she was the leader and had to know every single little thing and whatknot.

"What's going on?" she demanded. "Why does Spark have the laptop?"

"I'm offended by your tone, Max," I said. I turned slightly away, hugging the laptop in a possessively childish way. "C'est* mine."

"Where'd you get a laptop?" the Gasman asked sleepily, plopping down on the end of Nudge and Angel's bed. Nudge sat up with a giant yawn as Iggy dragged a chair over to where the rest of the flock had gathered around me. Total trotted across the bed and jumped down to be next to me.

"Stole it," I said shortly. I quickly minimized both windows and shut the laptop, wondering if they even wanted to know who their parents were.

"Of course we wanna know, Spark!" Angel cried. She reached over my shoulder and opened the computer again, adding, "We've been trying to find our parents ever since I got kidnapped by the School!"

I winced at the sudden uprising of questions from the rest of the flock. Nice going, kid.

Sorry, she thought back, but it didn't really sound like she meant it.

"Everybody shush!" I said loudly, waving my hands to cut off all the voices. When they quieted down, Max jumped right in with a new question before I could explain.

"You know who our parents are?"

I sighed impatiently. "No, I do not. However, I did just find files on us. They probably know."

Even Max went wide-eyed in shock at that one. I nervously glanced around at the suddenly-wide-awake flock, holding my breath until Total's nose on my hand made me jump.

"Well, out with it, Sparky," he said bluntly. "Who are they?"

I blinked and re-opened the decoded cali group files window and hesitantly inquired, "You guys wanna know where you came from?"

"Totally!" Nudge exclaimed. She bounced from the pillow side of the bed down to the end, hovering anxiously over my shoulder. "I mean, even if we never go meet them, I wanna know who they are, and if I'm really named Monique, and if my parents are really back in Arizona, and. . ."

"Nudge," Max said softly. "Calm down, all right?" She knelt down next to me and peered at the computer as I moved the mouse over to her file.

"Why are you doing mine first?" she asked, sounding surprised as I clicked on the document. A little loading bar popped up and I tapped my fingers nervously on my knee.

"You know who your real parents are, right? If it's the same, we'll know it's not bullsh--er, bull. . .crap."

The window popped up and everybody held their breath, including Max. I stared at the words typed on the document and swallowed.

Maximum Ride. Born: April 5, 1993 to Valencia Martinez and Jeb Batchelder in Phoenix, Arizona.

"It's. . .real," Max mumbled, blinking at the computer screen. "They're my real mom and dad."

"That means the rest of it's real, too," Iggy said. After a second, he added, "Read mine."

"Mine, too!" Nudge cried.

"Me too, me too!"

"And me!"

"All right, all right, calm down," I said, waving my hand. "I'll read 'em all."

Total clambered into my lap with a huff, pouting at the computer. "How come I don't have a file?"

"You're, um, a dog, Totally," I said, rubbing his head. "Those s-o-b scientists probably don't think you're important."

"To be evil scum-sucking geneticists is one thing. But to be rude as well? Disgraceful!" he sighed dramatically. I rolled my eyes and moved the mouse.

"We're only focused on parents and location, correct?" I asked. "Let's go oldest to youngest, and then we'll read the rest of it tomorrow."

"That means Fang's first!" Nudge exclaimed.

Daniel Finley. Born: August 29, 1993 to Jacqueline Finley and Daniel Mitchell in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

"You were named after your dad, Danny-boy," I said. I turned the screen toward Fang so he could read his file. He came down to one knee next to Max and narrowed his eyes. The dark irisis darted quickly back and forth along the lines of his past.

"His name's Danny?" Iggy snickered. Fang rolled his eyes and messed with the mouse of the laptop.

"Your name's Jimmy," he said.

"What?"

Nudge looked over to the computer and gasped. "Iggy! Your name's James Griffiths! Like those people said in Washington D.C.! They were your real parents!!"

I took the computer back and squinted at Iggy's file, reading out:

James Griffiths. Born: October 14, 1993 to Emily and Thomas Griffiths in Washington D.C.

For some reason, Iggy went very, very still, his fists clenching until his knuckles were white. I glanced at Max and she shook her head, like, I'll tell you later.

"Okay," I muttered, minimizing the document. I clicked on Nudge's and cleared my throat.

Monique Jackson. Born: June 30, 1996 to Sydney and Joseph Jackson in Tipisco, Arizona.

"Tipisco! I'm really from there!" she exclaimed, jumping off the bed and doing a weird little happy-dance. "And my name's really Monique!"

"Me next, me next!" the Gasman crowed, tugging on the back of my jacket.

"Fine, fine!"

Kenneth Smith. Born: January 21, 1999 to Sarah and Eric Smith in Lansing, Michigan.

"Happy, Kenny?"

"What about me?" Angel prodded excitedly.

Victoria Smith. Born: December 2, 2001 to Sarah and Eric Smith in Lansing, Michigan.

"Well, you're really Gazzy's sister. Your name's Victoria."

"Where's Lansing?" the Gasman asked, peering over my shoulder at the computer again. "And which state's Michigan?"

"That's just where you were born," I said, scrolling down some. "As of 2004, your parents are in Green Bay. It's in the northern part of the U.S., by Illinois."

"Oh, Max!" Angel said, tugging on Max's sleeve. "Max, I wanna go see them."

"What?" she exclaimed, sounding surprised. "Angel, I thought. . .I thought we agreed we weren't going to try to find our parents."

"But that was when we didn't know who they were. And now we know, and. . .I want to," Angel said in a defeated tone. "Even though they sold us. I still kinda wanna meet 'em."

"Yeah, me too," the Gasman added. "Like, I hate them for letting the School mess us up and stuff, but they're our parents. Like, our real ones."

"You've already met your mom, Max," Angel said. "And she's really, really nice. I wanna see if my mom's like that."

"Angel. . ."

"Hey, Spark, you didn't read yours yet!" Nudge said suddenly. I flinched involuntarily; I wasn't totally sure I wanted to know my parents. I had perfectly good fosters back in Colorado. Well, maybe not perfect, but at least I had them.

"Yeah, read it," Iggy prodded. "I wanna know what kinda screwballs gave you your annoying DNA."

"Ha, ha." I hesitated for a second before opening the anti-flock window and clicking on my own file. I closed my eyes as the document popped up, too anxious to look.

"Somebody else read it to me," I said, lifting the computer from my knees. "I don't wanna see it."

The laptop came away from my grip and I dropped my hands to my sides, clenching them into fists.

It could be anybody. Anybody in the entire world. People I didn't know, who thought they'd lost a child fifteen years ago, when really that child was alive, and breathing, and had wings, and. . .

"Your, uh, name is Nicole," Max said awkwardly.

My brain shorted out and my eyes flew open, staring at the wall in front of me. No.

"Nicole, uh, Ackerly. Your birthday's March thirteenth, and your parents are Phil and Marie, and you were born in Chicago."

No. No way. No way no way no way no way no way. . .!

"As of 1999 your parents are in Monument, Colorado."

No. As of 2008. As of right this second that's where they are.

My foster family's my real family.

They're my real family!!

A hand touched my shoulder, but I wasn't paying attention. Countless memories were spiraling across my mind's eye, of my parents--my real parents!!--my brother, my sister, my grandma, my grandpa, my cousins, my uncles, my aunts. . .

Iggy shook my shoulder. Just when did he get beside me? "Spark. You okay?"

"N-no," I stuttered truthfully. I was literally trembling, so happy and hyped up and confused. Everybody looked at me funny and I laughed hollowly. "I-I-I. . .I know them."

"Huh?"

"What d'you mean?" the Gasman asked, looking down at me from the bed with interest.

"I know them. They're my foster family. The people who adopted me are my parents!!"

"That. . .that's impossible," Max said disbelievingly. "The odds of it are, like, one in a kajillion!"

"I don't think 'kajillion' is a number," I said happily. "But I'm that one!"

"Max, I wanna find my parents too!" Angel said. "If yours and Spark's are good, then ours probably are too!"

"Yeah, I wanna meet 'em!" Gazzy added.

"Me too, me too!" Nudge cried.

As Max was attacked by requests to find their parents, I picked up the computer and scrolled through my file. It listed my family's medical history, what my chances were of contracting genetic disease, what powers I was expected to have, how long I was supposed to live. . .

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Total said, pawing at my hand. "Go back. I saw life span."

"They know our life span?" Iggy asked quickly. Fang looked up sharply, but the others didn't seem to hear.

"Um, I guess," I said slowly, scrolling back up. "They know mine, at least."

Expected to live until December 25, 2086.

"Huh. Guess I'm dead by Christmas of '86."

"2086? That's, like, eighty years from now!" Iggy exclaimed.

"Technically, it's seventy-eight years," I corrected in my best math-teacher voice. Then I smiled. "But it looks like we don't have to worry about expiring for a long time."


Avi sat straight up in her bed, heart pounding.

Spark was incredibly, incredibly happy right now. For some reason, the girl had stayed in touch with the blond bird-kid's emotions, and right now, all she could sense was happiness, joy, and excitement.

Trying to slow her breathing, Avi lay back down, countless thoughts swirling through her mind.

She herself had been extremely content until now--she'd called her mom on the cell phone Spark had left her. She'd been able to talk to her, and her brothers, and asked them how they'd been. Avi's mother had begged her to come home, but she'd had to say no.

Avi didn't know when she'd be able to escape. She wasn't like Spark--she didn't have anybody to help her, and she was never quick at pickign locks and sidestepping other security measures. Besides, Mr. Jay had hinted that he knew where her family was, so even if she did escape, and even if she did get rid of her necklace with the tracking chip, they'd find her in a second.

Speaking of family. . .

Avi turned over, staring at her purple bedroom wall. Con and Swift had revealed that their laptop had gone missing, and that Spark had probably stolen it. If she'd been smart enough to crack all six passwords--which were their last names, of course--then she'd've been able to find their files.

Was that it?

Had Spark opened her file?

Did she know who her parents were?

Too many questions for one mind to hold. Closing her eyes, Avi resolved to talk to Swift tomorrow. He was always a good listener. Good secret-keeper, too, given the fact that he didn't like to talk.

Tomorrow, then.


*c'est=pronounced 'say.' and it's french for 'it is.'

hope i didn't epically fail at creating the flock's past.

and again, i am so sorry it took a while to get this up. i was actually really progressing with my novel.

updating for this month will be slow and sporadic at best. . .