No one cares what I have to say. Just read.
"You have to use your crutches, Max."
"Screw the damn crutches. I can walk perfectly well!" I snapped back at Fang. "You saw me earlier!"
"Really? Lemme see now then," he challenged. Fang leaned back against the wall of the small room, watching me skeptically as I hopped awkwardly down from the paper covered doctor's table.
"Fine," I muttered, setting my feet carefully on the cool tile flooring. I took one confident step with my bare, uninjured left foot, and then a small, hesitant step with my heavily wrapped right foot.
White oblivion blossomed across my vision, and I could feel myself buckle and hit the floor, my knees jarring with pain on impact. "Hell," I hissed, struggling to move my right foot so my ankle would stop screaming at me. "What is wrong with me? None of my other sprains hurt half as bad as this! I could walk earlier! Why can't I now?" I felt weak, that this affected me so much.
And I hated feeling weak.
Fang had suddenly materialized at my side, and a strong arm snaked its way around my torso as he helped me stand up. "Dad said it's because of the medicines," he replied, helping me over to the paper covered table and lifting me up to perch on the edge. Yet again, that strangely good feeling of smallness in his grasp overwhelmed me, and a little smile stole over my face when Fang kept his arm cradled around my waist as he stood beside the table.
"I never had to use crutches for a sprain before," I continued to whine, well aware of my unattractive poutiness and not caring in the least. I did not relish the idea of crutches, and I wanted to make my feelings on the matter very clear.
"Well, now you do," Fang retorted, rolling his eyes at me.
"You said it's because of the stupid shots they gave me?" I confirmed.
"That's what Dad said," Fang repeated. "They're really strong so you can heal faster, but apparently they're going to make you feel a lot weaker for a bit. Hence, he wants you on crutches."
I clearly remembered James Rianild explaining in some fancy medical language why I needed the shots, while I nodded along and pretended to understand. I also clearly recalled him standing and watching as the nurse prepped the needle and injected it not once, but three times into my veins. I had always hated needles, hated the feeling of alien fluid bursting into my skin, hated the very idea of something unnatural invading my body. This round of shots was even more awful than most though, because with each injection, I felt a distinct ripple of an odd, fizzy coldness rock through my body. Those were some strong drugs all right, and they left me feeling ridiculously weak and limp, no more useful than the rag doll Total had taken to carrying around in his mouth. At this point, it was so bad that I seriously doubted my ability to even use my upper body strength for crutches.
"I still don't want crutches," I mumbled again, sticking my chin out defiantly.
Fang rolled his eyes. "Of course you don't," he replied dramatically, "Crutches are for mere mortals, not Maximum Ride."
"Exactly!" I exclaimed. "Thank you for understanding, Fang! I knew there was a reason I kept you around."
Fang was saved from answering by the entrance of his father. "Max," James greeted me, ignoring the presence of his son for a moment. "Have you recovered from your shots yet? I already warned you they might cause some dizziness or nausea— is anything wrong?"
"I feel perfectly fine," I replied, mentally sighing in relief that I wasn't throwing up. "Just a bit weak."
James beamed, tapping a few keys on the laptop he was juggling on one arm. "That's great," he informed me happily. "I'm very pleased that you responded so well to the injections."
"Uh, thanks?" I said hesitantly, wondering just how I was supposed to reply to that. "So how long am I on crutches?"
James waved his free hand dismissively, not looking up from the screen of his laptop. "Only about a week or so, probably less since it's just a sprain," he estimated.
Relief flooded through me, and I felt a smile wash out onto my face. "Good," I sighed. "Or I might go homicidal on the poor crutches. They're so young and promising, it would be a shame to murder them now."
My strange rambling was ignored by James, who was busy tapping something into his keyboard again. It was probably a good thing that he didn't listen to me, considering that he was the doc and had full power and authority to ship me off to a crazy home. Fang, however, gave me a strange look and tightened his grip around my waist. I grinned at him in reply, and he just shook his head in mock despair.
"I'm going to send you home now, but you're going to have to take some medicine for this," James concluded, snapping his laptop shut with a decisive click. "I'll have the nurse give you the prescriptions."
"Medicine?" I asked skeptically. I looked down at my bandaged foot. "I don't understand why I have to use crutches instead of a boot like I did the last two times, and I don't get why I have to take medicine if all I have is a sprained ankle."
"Just do as the doctor says, Max," James chided. "Don't you want to get better quickly?"
"Well, yeah," I admitted. "But why do I have to take medicine?"
"So persistent," James sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "If you must now, it's a continuation of those shots I gave you. It's a new type of drug that strengthens your muscles as it heals your sprain."
"So it's a two in one kind of deal?" I clarified.
James nodded.
"Fine," I gave in. "I'll take the medicine, but I'm not happy about it."
"You don't have to be happy about it. You just have to be healthy," James replied wickedly. "See my nurse for the prescription, Max. Good bye."
And with a swirl of his long white coat, James was out the door.
I looked at Fang, who was watching me intently, a quiet question in his dark eyes. "Please?" he said aloud, his voice soft and persuasive. I scowled. "It's for your own good," he added.
"Whatever," I muttered defiantly. Fang gave me a look, the kind that mothers give their children when they're about to do something incredibly stupid. "Fine!" I snapped at last, finally relenting and letting him help me off the doctor's table. Fang smiled as he gently set me on my good foot, then retrieved my crutches from their place resting evilly against the wall.
Okay, maybe not evilly exactly, but that's how it seemed to me. Just saying.
Mom was in the waiting room when Fang escorted me out on my crutches, frowning as she spoke softly with James' assistant nurse. "What do these medicines have in them?" Mom asked, her normally warm brown eyes cool and calculating. I was surprised at the frosty civility of her voice, wondering what had upset her so much.
The nurse looked vaguely flustered. "Ms. Martinez, Maximum's medicines are completely safe," she tried to assure Mom. "There's no need to worry about her health."
"I'm not worried about their safety, I'm worried about their content," Mom replied witheringly. "As I've said four times before now." She paused for breath, then drew herself up slightly as she looked imperiously at the nurse. "And I am Dr. Martinez, thank you very much."
Wow. My mom is really kinda badass. I never knew that before…
Well, it made sense. I must have gotten it from somewhere.
"We've already cross-referenced the medicines with Maximum's medical record, and seeing as she has no allergies, there is no need for alarm that these will react badly on her—" the nurse tried to soothe my mother.
"Will you answer my damn question?" Mom interrupted heatedly, eyes blazing and fists clenched. I stopped, shocked at her intensity. I rarely saw her this angry, and never over a small matter like medicine. This anger was reserved for breaking windows (me) or collecting a sixty dollar fine on a library card and not telling her about it (Ella).
"Valencia, what can I do for you?" James cut in smoothly, appearing behind the frustrated nurse at the front desk. "Is there a problem regarding Max's prescription?"
"Yes, there is," Mom replied shortly. "I want to see the full contents list of the medicines given to her."
James raised his eyebrow. "All right," he agreed pleasantly. "That can be arranged rather easily. Hildey, why didn't you show Dr. Martinez the ingredients at first?"
The nurse sputtered for a moment, obviously vastly confused for whatever reason. "My apologies, Dr. Rianild," she said finally. "I'll go find the list of ingredients then."
"Thank you Hildey!" James called after the nurse as she beat her retreat around a corner. "Sorry Valencia, Hildey is relatively new here and has trouble with protocol sometimes."
"Of course," Mom replied smoothly, unclenching her fists and exhaling slowly. "I'm sorry for getting so worked up. Max's health is very important to me."
"Mom," I groaned, crutching my way up to her with a slightly smiling Fang in tow. "Give it a rest."
Mom smiled at me, but didn't comment further. "I'll take care of this, Max," she told me. "You and Fang can go now, I'll see you later."
"Kay," I replied, feeling my stomach clench a little. Fang was still waiting for his explanation of my odd behavior earlier in the week, and this provided an ideal time to tell him.
Dammit.
"Bye, Dr. M," Fang said politely, flashing my mom a quiet smile as he followed me out the door.
"Bye," Mom murmured distractedly, her attention caught by Hildey coming back with a sheet of paper in hand.
Fang held the waiting room door open for me while I awkwardly crutched through. As we made our way down the hall, I watched Fang wordlessly change his steps to match the pace of my crutches, trying to think of how to start off my story.
After Fang had passed me off to my mom post ankle spraining yesterday, we had gone straight home. I staggered awkwardly to the door with Ella lending her non-injured arm to supporting my every other step, and fell onto the couch. Mom got me a new ice pack, Ella located a few pillows and blankets for me, and after a wholesome meal of bagel bites and doritos, I crashed.
Needless to say, Fang and I didn't have a heart-to-heart talk that night.
Then Friday morning rolled around, and Mom had decided that I would not be going to school. She seemed strangely jumpy all day, and ordered me not to move from the couch for any reason other than bathroom usage. It was weird, and I was starting to wonder if my mother had gone slightly insane when Anne and Christie dropped by together to check on me.
"As soon as I let you girls on my team, you both go and injure yourselves!" Christie scolded teasingly, her eyes twinkling.
"It's not really our faul-" I started to protest. Then I stopped, mentally rewinding. "Wait, we made the team?" I asked.
Christie nodded, smiling and pulling a couple of folders out from behind her back. "I wanted to check on your ankle, and I needed your Mom to fill out these forms for you and Ella," she explained. Christie handed the folders to my mom, throwing her a salute and saying, "Here you go, Coach."
Mom actually smirked, her previous worry seeming to melt away in the presence of my two coaches. "You were always the suck-up, Christie," Mom teased, accepting the folder.
"Well, Anne was the loudmouthed diva forward," Christie protested.
"Was not," Anne retorted, tossing her ponytail dramatically. "You were just jealous of my skills, you lowly defender."
I stared at the three of them, wondering what the hell was going on. "Uh, excuse me, but what are you guys talking about?" I asked slowly, struggling to sit up properly on the couch. With every movement my ankle pulsed with pain, just as I had come to expect a sprain to do in my experience with them. It was distracting me, and I couldn't exactly keep track of what was happening very well.
"Christie and I played on your mother's soccer team in college," Anne explained, grinning down at me.
"You did?" I asked stupidly.
"Yep," Christie confirmed. "She was a top notch goalie before she screwed up her knees—"
"Watch what you say about me," Mom warned, putting on a look of fake affront. "I'm right here."
"And then she coached the college team where Anne and I played for a few years before she ran off to vet school and started moving to every state in the country," Christie continued, completely ignoring Mom's interruption. "We lost touch for awhile because Anne and I could never keep track of where she had gone."
"So that's why you two are so similar with your coaching…" I mumbled, closing my eyes as I tried to process this. "Did my mom teach you how to yell that loudly?"
"She's a goalie, sweetheart. Yelling loudly is part of the job description," Anne informed me.
I rolled my eyes. "Sure it is," I mumbled, falling back against the pillow. "I'm so confused… why doesn't anything make sense anymore?"
"Max, go to sleep," Mom advised, rolling her eyes at my whininess. "We'll go talk in the kitchen." Mom herded her former players away from the couch, leaving me alone with only the ticking of the clock to keep me company.
Anne and Christie used to play on Mom's soccer team. Wow.
When I woke up later that day, I heard Mom's, Ella's, and Fang's voices floating out of the kitchen. I sat up, pushing away the blanket that Mom must have draped over me while I slept. I gingerly stepped off the couch with my good foot, praying that I would be able to walk the ten yards to the kitchen doorway without my stupid ankle killing me.
It was surprisingly easy to get to my destination, actually. My ankle felt swollen and seemed as if someone had stuffed it full of painful cottonballs, but I could walk perfectly well. I smiled to myself as I limped into the kitchen, mentally cheering the fact that I didn't need anyone to carry me anymore.
"Max! You're awake," Mom greeted me, smiling as she gestured for me to sit down. I lowered myself carefully into a seat at the kitchen table and glanced up at Ella and Fang, who were leaning against the counter.
"Yeah, you guys talk loudly," I remarked. "So what's up?"
Fang looked over at me, dark eyes searching my face and very effectively waking me up with their intensity. "How's your ankle?" he asked quietly.
"Sprained," I replied flippantly, bending to inspect the swollen lump adorning the side of my ankle bone. It bulged a good inch off of my leg, which was pretty impressive if you ask me. "But I can walk now."
Fang gave me a look. "So does that make you think you're okay?" he asked skeptically.
"Umm, yeah?" I replied slowly, wondering why he sounded so resigned. "Why?"
Ella, Fang, and my mother all exchanged looks. It was the kind of exasperated look that you give your friends when someone was acting like a toddler, and it seemed that they were marking me as the toddler in this case. "Max," Ella began delicately, "We think that you should let the doctor take a look at it."
Alarm bells started ringing in my head. "Why do I feel like I'm about to be cornered?" I asked suspiciously.
"Probably because you are," Fang replied calmly. "Max, my dad already has an appointment set up with you. I told him you sprained your ankle, and he just wants to help you. He said something about a new medicine that helps with quick healing."
Fang knew that last part would catch my attention. I was about to start arguing that I should most certainly not see a doctor and simply let it heal on its own, but speedy healing was a definite advantage that he knew I wouldn't be able to dismiss.
Suddenly though, Mom started looking worried. "A regenerative medicine?" she asked warily. "Where did this come from?"
Fang shrugged, turning to look at my mother. "Dad said it's some new advancement in medical science or something. I couldn't follow all the fancy wording," he admitted. "But from what I can tell it's supposed to cut healing time down."
Mom frowned. "Well, that sounds… interesting," she remarked, sounding strangely removed.
"If my dad is suggesting it then I'm sure it's safe," Fang offered, obviously trying to reassure her.
"And I think that might be the only way we can drag Max to the doctor's," Ella observed.
I snorted, but made no comment.
She was right, just FYI.
And that's what brought me to the doctor's office, which brought me to getting horribly painful shots, which brought me to suddenly losing all ability to walk properly again, which brought me to using the damn crutches, which I used to bring myself to the place I am right now (which, in case anyone's forgotten, is moving along the corridor of the doctor's office leading outside with my dearest boyfriend, who is waiting somewhat impatiently for me to divulge my deep dark past).
Oh, drat.
Okay, so maybe my past wasn't horrifically deep and dark, but it was rather scarring to my young mind. A girl can have her sore spots, all right? And what I did, what happened to us, the repercussions, they still affected me today. They weren't exactly things normal fifth grade girls would— or even could— do.
I snuck a sideways glance at Fang, wondering if he noticed my apprehension rising as we got closer to the time where I would confess. His face was impassive, looking straight ahead, but when he noticed me glancing over he offered me a small smile.
Good. He wasn't mad.
Yet.
"Crutches giving you trouble?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"What?" I said, confused by his question. Why would he think that?
"You're scowling," Fang informed me, smirking a little. He obviously found what he thought was my irritation with crutches highly amusing.
I wasn't scowling because of the crutches, but I didn't want to bring up the real reason for my apparent frowniness (I hadn't even realized I was doing that. Whoops. It seems that I should work on my facial awareness). "Yeah, they're making my back kinda sore," I invented, feeling somewhat guilty at the lie.
Fang frowned slightly, and my guilt grew a little at his concern. "Maybe you shouldn't use crutches," he said slowly, stopping and turning as if to go back to his dad's office. "Maybe they have something else you could use instead. There's no point in hurting your back with crutches."
Oh crap. Now I felt even more guilty.
"Fang, it's okay," I assured him quickly. Fang didn't appear to notice my protest though, continuing to walk away. Frustrated by my slowness, I let my crutches clatter to the floor, picking up my bad foot and hopping forward on the good one to stop him from marching back into the doctor's office to demand a wheelchair for me or something. "I'm fine," I insisted. My hand closed on his shoulder, tugging him to a halt.
Fang stopped in his tracks, turning slightly to face me. His hand slid up to rest on the one I had clamped to his shoulder. His eyes searched my face as he slowly pulled my fingers off of his shoulder. I couldn't focus on anything but him, his serious face and his warm hand surrounding mine, gently guiding my arm around his neck instead. I hopped awkwardly forward as he pulled me towards him, trying to stay casual even as he dropped his hand to my back and pressed me up against his side. His other hand snaked down somehow to my waist, tugging me to face him, and I couldn't help but let my free arm join the other one around his neck. My bad ankle was completely forgotten.
He didn't look away from my eyes the whole time.
"You said your back hurt," Fang observed, breaking the silence. The hand on my back spread out gently, and I could feel the warmth of his fingers through my shirt. "Using crutches isn't going to help that."
I resisted the urge to let my hands tangle in his hair. My fingers were just brushing the soft ends on his neck, and it was distracting me. I struggled to string a proper protesting sentence together. "Fang, I'm fine," I whispered, unwilling to speak louder and disrupt the stillness between us. "My back is fine. My ankle is the one that is being an asshole, remember?"
He frowned again. "You sure?" Fang asked dubiously. "You looked pretty unhappy just now."
"I'm not thrilled with the idea of using crutches, but I'll use them if it makes my ankle heal," I replied, avoiding the fact that the thing I was unhappy about wasn't actually the crutches in the first place. "Come on, let's just go. I hate doctor's offices, even if they belong to your dad." I nodded my head down the hallway toward the glass doors leading outside.
Fang smirked down at me, the concern leaving his eyes and being replaced by something more mischievous. "Wait, you actually think I'm going to let you get out of this yet?" he asked, pretending to be incredulous.
"Out of what?" I retorted, trying not to breathe too shallowly as the hand on my waist poked a few fingers under the hem of my shirt.
Fang's smirk grew, and he pulled me a little closer, tilting his head down until I could feel his breath on my mouth. "Out of this," he murmured, and pressed his lips to mine.
Have I ever mentioned how much I love it when Fang kisses me? It seems like it gets better every time. I lifted myself up higher on my good foot, letting the injured right dangle in the air behind me. My fingers instantly buried themselves in the tufts of hair covering Fang's neck that had been taunting me so much before. I closed my eyes and let my mouth move along with his, savoring his taste.
"Oh, please, not in public," a voice sneered, startling me into breaking away from the kiss. Fang didn't let go of me though, holding on possessively to my waist. I let my hands drop out of his hair on onto his shoulders, turning to look at the intruder.
Well, not exactly intruder. We were standing in a public hallway, after all. But this sneery voice sounded extremely familiar. Too familiar.
"Hello Max," Fang said coolly, pulling me tighter against him. I said nothing, only glaring at the redheaded boy who stood stiffly across from us. He was the reason for the lovely bruise blooming across my face, after all. I hadn't exactly forgiven him for that.
"Fang," Max II bit out, cold blue eyes glowering back at us. "Max. Do you mind saving the PDA for somewhere else?"
"We didn't expect your dashing company," I informed him, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "I'll apologize if you apologize," I offered, gesturing to my black eye.
Max II snorted, crossing his arms arrogantly across his chest. "Not a chance," he snarled. "You deserved that."
I could feel Fang tense up, could practically sense the anger prompted by Max II's remark rushing through him. Before he could do anything though, I quickly stepped in. "Whatever. I think it's my color anyway," I replied airily, taking one hand off of Fang's neck to finger my purple bruise. "Brings out my eyes beautifully," I added.
Fang snorted slightly, but seemed to relax. Good.
"What are you doing here anyway, Maxi?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Going for a check up?" I jerked my head down the hallway to James Rianild's office.
Max II just continued to sneer, stepping closer to Fang and I. "Not that it's any of your business, Maxi, but yes, I am," he retorted.
"Then go ahead. I wouldn't want to make you late for your appointment," I replied sweetly, staring him down. "Run along now."
Max II just scoffed at me, brushing past Fang and I without another word and marching angrily down the hallway. He yanked open the door and stomped inside, not giving another glance backwards.
"He's just jealous 'cause I got the girl," Fang remarked, pulling me closer yet again.
"Get off me," I replied eloquently, stepping backward out of his arms.
That was when I remembered my newly medicated, extremely pain-sensitive, sprained ankle.
Oh yeah.
I'm ashamed to admit that I let out a revoltingly high-pitched shriek as I toppled backwards, my legs folding under me. The hallway wasn't exactly the widest one around, so I managed to hit the wall with my upper back on the way down and slow my fall. Fang was at my side almost as soon as my butt hit the ground, dark eyes wide with alarm. He looked ready to throw me over his shoulder and cart me back to his dad's office if need be. I wouldn't really put it past him, considering the almost overkill concern he has for my various injuries. "Max! Are you okay?" Fang asked urgently, gripping my shoulder worriedly.
I gritted my teeth, blinking away the pain that was flooding my ankle. "I'm fine, I just forgot about the sprain and stepped wrong," I assured him. "Can you grab the stupid things for me?"
Fang rolled his eyes, but didn't comment as he got up and retrieved my crutches from the untidy pile I had dropped them in before.
I trained him well.
As we continued on down the hallway, I couldn't help but notice that now Fang was the frowny one. "What's wrong with you?" I asked as we stopped in front of the elevators. We were only on the second floor, but we didn't have to talk to agree that I shouldn't be testing out my new crutches on stairs. We both knew how extremely graceful I could be.
Fang glanced over at me. "If Max II had a checkup, why didn't he have a parent with him?" he pointed out. "He couldn't just walk in by himself. He's only fifteen."
The metal doors slid open, and Fang held them that way until I had crutched my way inside. "Maybe his mom is parking or something," I suggested. "Why would he lie about a checkup?"
"I don't know," Fang replied, shrugging. "Just seems weird."
"I can't think of a single reason for Max II to go to the doctor's office voluntarily for some evil purpose," I declared. I leaned against the side of the elevator, studying Fang's clearly unconvinced face. "Just 'cause he's a jerk doesn't mean he doesn't have doctor's appointments," I reminded him. "And your dad is a doctor."
"Yeah," Fang hedged, obviously still not persuaded. I sighed, giving up the argument. The stupid medicine was making me sleepy, and I didn't have the energy to try to convince Fang that Max II going to the doctor was perfectly normal and socially acceptable.
When we finally stepped out of the building, we both headed to the bus stop without question, stepped on, and knew that we were going to the park.
At first Fang wanted to stay on the wide cement paths of the outer park, arguing that it would be easier on my crutches. But I firmly refused, ignoring his protests as I made my way over to the gravel and dirt trails that led deeper into the woods of the park.
"If you slip and die it's your fault," Fang warned me, following close behind as I dug my crutches into the uneven ground.
"I'll take full responsibility," I promised, waving away his worry. "I won't even make you buy flowers for my funeral."
"How comforting," he muttered.
I snorted in reply, continuing on in silence for a moment. The trees were slowly cutting us off from the buzz of playground chatter, and I breathed in the earthy, quiet air. It was so peaceful, the only sounds unharmonious with the scene Fang's footsteps and my crutches grinding against the path.
"So are you gonna tell me?"
I halted at the question, an act that allowed Fang to slip in next to me instead of behind as the path widened out. I could feel his gaze asking me to tell him, trust him. Neither of us moved.
Finally, I let out a short, forced laugh. "I said I was going to, didn't I?" I asked. "I will."
"Okay," Fang said simply, turning forward and starting to walk again. I swung my crutches forward and hurried to set my pace even with his large, quick strides.
"Hey, lighten up on the speed," I protested, feeling my under arms already start to ache from where they were pressing on the crutches. "Stupid meds are making me weak. I won't be able to spill if I'm out of breath, you know," I added.
"Sorry," Fang replied, obligingly slowing down. He said nothing else though, and I knew he was waiting for me to start.
I took a deep breath, wondering where I should begin. "Well, my family tends to move around a lot," I finally decided, fixing my eyes on the bend in the path a few steps ahead. "Big moves, from state to state. And in fifth grade, we lived in Florida. I had a few friends there that I was really close t— HOLY SHIT!"
And let me tell you, the swearing didn't stop there.
I skidded to a halt, frozen by the scene in front of me. Fang stood beside me, equally as frozen, but less loudly explicit than me. Loudly explicit is more my style anyway. Fang is more of a silent shock type.
But what we were looking at right now made me wish we hadn't turned the stupid corner. Why did we have to pick the same trail that stupid Dylan chose to make out with Nudge on?
I guess this was karma revenge for when she stumbled in on me and Fang on Hidden Path.
But let me focus on the real problem here. DYLAN. KISSING. NUDGE. Not exactly very chastely either. They were pretty wrapped up in their little activity, Dylan pressing her against a tree on the side of a trail and Nudge's hands knotted in his hair. Mouths fitted very closely together. Dylan's hands wandering at her waist, toying with the hem of her shirt. But my loud, continuous stream of expletives seemed to shake them from their little world.
Nudge pulled away from Dylan, her eyes snapping wide open as she stared helplessly at Fang and I. A dark blush sprang up almost instantly across her cheeks. "Max! Fang!" she coughed awkwardly, pulling her hands away from Dylan and sliding them back to her sides. She pushed him off of get, and Dylan stepped obediently away, smiling unrepentantly at Fang and I.
I was pretty sure that image was burned into my mind forever.
"Oh geez," I groaned, wishing I could pull my hands off my crutches and scratch away my retinas. "Why me? Why me?"
"It seems to be national Walk in on People Kissing day," Fang mused quietly. "Why wasn't I informed?"
I ignored what he probably viewed as hilarious wit, choosing instead to stare at Nudge until she fidgeted uncomfortably. "What?" she finally snapped, unable to deal with my silent reproach. "It's a public park. I'm allowed to kiss my boyfriend. You of all people should agree with that, Max," Nudge added pointedly, giving a very clear head jerk towards Fang.
I couldn't help but continue to stare at her, wondering how Dylan even ended up asking her out so quickly after they even met. And now they were making out in public parks? I was a little concerned for my friend, still convinced that Dylan wasn't the best guy for her to be dating.
I mean, come on! Do the words 'Danny Armstrong' mean anything anymore?
"You better not hurt her," Fang remarked quietly, his eyes trained on Dylan.
"Faaang," Nudge whined, sounding very much like an embarrassed little sister.
"I don't plan on it," Dylan replied calmly, steadily looking back at Fang. Then his gaze flickered over to me, and I had to force myself not to scowl for Nudge's sake. "I'm sorry you feel scarred, Max," he continued, looking vaguely amused at my disgust.
"You better be," I muttered, digging the end of my crutch into the dirt. I entertained myself by imagining it was Max II's head. Or maybe Thirteen.
"So… were you guys going somewhere?" Nudge asked after a moment. I didn't miss the unspoken request in her words: "I love you guys and all, but will you please get lost and leave us alone?"
"Yeah, actually," I agreed, not wanting to risk anymore PDA. "C'mon Fang, let's go. We'll see you guys later."
"Bye Max," Dylan offered, smiling at me. "Later Fang."
"Good bye," Nudge added, smiling thankfully at me for getting her hint. I nodded, crutching my way past the two of them and trying to put as much space between us as possible.
We stopped a little later, at a little secluded place on the trail equipped with a green bench. Fang looked at me questioningly, and I fell backwards onto the bench in response, dropping my crutches carelessly on either side. "That was… eventful," I remarked, wincing as the mental image of Nudge and Dylan tangled together resurfaced in my mind.
"Very much so," Fang agreed, not looking very pleased either. "So… Florida?"
I should've known he wouldn't give up so easily. Not even stumbling in on a making out couple could distract Fang from what he wanted to know. I sighed, fixing my eyes on a small yellow flower at the side of the path. "Right," I said softly. "Florida."
And I let myself get washed over with memories of that time, memories that had been forced away for so long.
"I had a friend named Mike," I started out. "He wasn't the most normal of kids."
And everything else, what I thought would be so hard to voice in open air, came gushing out.
DEDICATED TO: villite246, for not letting me get away too easy with not updating, and who was a great source of inspiration as I attempted to write this horrid chapter. (: you da bomb!
The main problem with this is I honestly don't know what's going to happen yet. (: You're all like 'wow I can't wait to see what happens next!' and I'm here thinking 'yeah me too!' =P
SOMEBODY GOT IT RIGHT! (: I'm not saying who, but somebody got who the Someone's POV was! Congratulations, person who doesn't know I mean them! (:
Hey, I've submitted over 500 reviews on this account. Would you like to return the love to me? (: I promise I will try so hard not to slack this time... /: I'm a despicable human being, I know. I REPENT!
~TMI~