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But of course, 'oh crap' was the only thing going through my head at that point, so I guess that'll have to suffice. Anyway, I looked down at my hands again. They're still furry...and clawed? Like an Eraser's hands. Like Ari's. Was it finally happening? Was I becoming an Eraser like Jeb's psychotic seven-year old son, Ari?
"Max?" Angel's small voice came from outside the McDonald's bathroom door. She almost sounded worried. "Max? If you're in there, could you hurry?"
Trying to muster up enough strength to say something, I took a deep breath and stepped into one of the stalls in case she came in. "What's wrong sweetie?" Quickly thinking, I cleared my mind of all the fears that came when I looked in the mirror, just in case Angel was listening to my thoughts.
"Um, can I come in?" She really sounded worried now, so with a sigh I said it was fine.
"Is anyone else out there?" I asked before she had opened the door all the way.
A moment of pause. She must've been checking. "Nope, but I can get them to go away if they want to come in."
I almost laughed. Angel, Wicked Witch of the Flock, would use her mind-altering ability to steer anyone away from the bathroom, just as she had done in other situations before. I remembered the White House. She manipulated the President of the United States of America.
"I sure did!" Angel was listening to my thoughts again and responded in her cheerful voice as she closed the bathroom door behind her. "Can I come into the stall? It's kinda private."
Without thinking, I answered with a quiet "yes," then remembered my condition and slammed myself against the stall door, hoping she wasn't up against it on the other side.
Apparently she wasn't, because I quickly felt her small push on the door, trying to get it open. "What's wrong Max?"
"It's...nothing sweetie. Honest." What a lie. And Angel if you're listening to my thoughts right now hearing all this, I'm sorry I can't say more right now.
"Why can't you say anything? Why are you keeping secrets?" Angel's small voice began to quiver, and I could tell she was about to cry.
"Sweetie...I'm just...so sorry. Please don't cry. I know I shouldn't keep secrets, but this is a really really bad one."
Slowly, Angel's small sniffles were gone, replaced by an air of curiousity.
"Could you...could you get Fang maybe? Ask him if he could slip in her in secret maybe?" I know, it's a stupid plan, but it was all I had at the moment. And besides, I needed to get Angel out of here before...well before something else happened.
Without a word, I heard Angel quietly leave the bathroom and shut the door behind her, only to hear it open a few seconds later.
"Max? Are you alright?" Fang's deep voice that usually sounded emotionless now had a worried tone in it. "Don't worry, Angel's keeping guard outside, ready to turn anyone away who tries to come in."
"Fang..." I was about to tell him about my sudden...costume change, but decided I'd wait and here what he had to say. "Why did Angel need me? Do you know?"
There was silence on the other side of the stall door, and I could almost feel Fang's heart becoming heavier. He was trying to find the right words. "I'm...I'm changing, Max."
A fresh wave of panic assaulted my brain, along with another heat blast that almost knocked me off my feet. "Wha...whaddya mean?" My voice shook and I could tell I was going to break down soon. Jeez, so much for Invincible Max. I noticed that I was looking down at my own hands again, noticed that they were still furry and had claws on the end of each finger, noticed that I hardly cared anymore. I was too worried about Fang.
Suddenly I heard something I had never heard in my life and never thought I would hear. Fang was sniffling, fighting back tears that I knew he had to let go. Oh my God. Is this for real? Noticing I was in the handicapped stall of the bathroom, I slowly opened the door and hid behind it as Fang slowly stepped in.
"Something's wrong, Max." Fang's voice almost broke about the same time mine did when I saw what he meant. Fang's fingers had claws like mine, and dark hair was beginning to erupt from the back of his hand.