"Guys, guess what?" I sang as I sat down at lunch, sliding in next to Derek with Iggy and Fang joining the table with me.
"The fifth dentist caved, and now they're all recommending Trident?" Iggy asked keeping a stoic face.
Derek and Fang rolled their eyes used to Iggy's incessant sarcasm.
"No," I said after a pause. "But try again, it's good news."
"You want to go see The Greatest Showman with me?" Ella asked her face lighting up in a grin.
"You got all the answers to our bio homework?" Fang asked with the trace of a smile in his eyes.
"You bought us all tickets to go see the Red Hot Chili Peppers in concert?" Derek added hopefully.
"You got asked on a date!" Nudge shrieked with such enthusiasm that I almost thought she was right.
"Okay, I have news," I muttered and everyone's faces fell but Iggy just rolled his eyes. "Besides Ella, why would you go see the Greatest Showman again, you've already seen it twice in theaters?"
"Because it's that good! Max, it's life changing. The music, the humble backgrounds, the love story. Not to mention, Zac Efron singing," she added with a dreamy look to Nudge.
"Max, if you don't want to go see Zac Efron and Hugh Jackman singing and dancing together, there must be something seriously wrong with you because it was breathtaking and beautiful – like a baby bird taking flight! Besides, Hugh Jackman is a piece." Iggy opened his mouth to voice his disgust, but Nudge didn't even blink. "Yes, Iggy. I know he is 50 years old, but he is beautiful, talented and a gift from God on this Earth."
I shook my head laughing as I pulled an apple out of my backpack, but the girl had a point. Hugh Jackman was admittedly good looking, and he had a nice voice. "I just feel like I wouldn't be able to watch it without expecting him to whip out his claws half way through the dancing number where he's swinging around on the hoops." They both stared at me with a vacant expression on their faces. "You know, Wolverine?"
Ella shrugged, "Hugh Jackman doesn't swing on the hoops, Max. He's the circus master. These are things you would know if you would have gone to see the movie with me, but oh well."
I just rolled my eyes.
"So, what was your news, Max?" Fang asked after a moment.
"I've decided I'm going to run the Denver Marathon."
"Seriously?" Derek asked turning towards me, his eyes wide with interest.
I nodded, "Yeah, it's in the end of May every year and you get to run all throughout Denver and two of the miles go through the Bronco Stadium which is hype. But, I missed the signup and training is like 18 weeks, so I want to do it next year. Give me some time to mentally prepare, you know?"
Ella looked skeptical, "Why?"
"Why?" I repeated, confused.
"Why would you pay to run for hours on end?" She seemed genuinely confused.
"Lots of reasons! It's one of the things on my bucket list, and I'm not exactly getting any younger."
"You're 16," Fang said incredulously.
"So, maybe I run a marathon every year for the rest of my life. Then I'll have run fifty by the time I'm 66," I retorted. "Besides, you get sick gear and bragging rights for life." Everyone kept looking at me like I was crazy, and I just glared right on back at them. It was something only a small percentage of the population could do, and I wanted to prove to everyone – myself included – that I was strong enough mentally and physically to run 26.2 miles whether or not they were going to support me. "Look, it's just something I've always wanted to do."
"Hasn't your mom run a bunch of marathons?" Nudge asked Fang and he nodded.
"You can talk to her about it Max. But let me warn you: once she starts, she won't stop talking about it."
"That would be so cool though Max! Ooh, I already have lots of great ideas for signs to cheer you on! How about: Run like Hugh Jackman's waiting for you at the finish line!"
"I got a good one," Iggy chimed in, "If a marathon were easy, it'd be called your mom! Ha get it? And easy would be spelled E Z."
I shook my head, "I can't say my mom would appreciate that."
Iggy snickered as Ella rolled her eyes. "I have another one," he added. "Okay so it's two posters: Just go faster! That's what she said!" Derek laughed while both the girls groaned, and Fang just stared at them looking half amused, half concerned.
"As charming as those are Iggy, I think Nudge and I will be able to think of something slightly more motivational," Ella said as the corners of her lips twitched into a smile.
"When do you sign up for next year?" Derek asked running a hair over his brutally short haircut.
"End of May and early June is when registration opens I think."
"Good, that gives you plenty of time to think about it before you sign up," Fang said as his eyes flew rapidly from side to side as he scanned his notes.
"Sorry, what is there to think about?" I asked, but I didn't sound too sorry about it.
He shrugged, "It's a huge time commitment to train and it takes a lot of mental willpower to run for 26 miles. You have to completely revamp your diet, your sleep schedule, your social life. I've just talked to people who make a big deal about running a marathon and then flake out because they don't realize what they signed up for. I'm not saying that's you, Max."
"26.2 miles actually," I muttered.
"What social life?" Iggy asked breaking the tension as I glared at Fang across the table. Who was he to tell me what I could and couldn't do?
Unreasonably annoyed, I shoved my apple back into my backpack. "I have to go meet with Mr. Davis," I quickly stood up and knocked the table which dug into my thigh. "We have a paper due at the end of the week and I need to clarify something in the prompt. See you guys later."
"Max," Fang said as I turned from the table and headed towards the cafeteria doors, but I pretended I didn't hear him and kept going with my backpack casually slung over my shoulder. Keep it to me to be dramatic at all times.
Once I had left the cafeteria, I wasn't sure where to go, so I slowly walked along the hallway leaning against the lockers, but I hadn't heard the footsteps gradually getting louder behind me.
"Max," a familiar voice said as a hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun around but didn't say anything. "I know you're not going to see Mr. Davis. There's no history paper due this week," he said softly, "And to be honest, I'm pretty sure he would blatantly refuse to meet with you even if there was."
I tried to suppress a grin. Suffice it to say, Mr. Davis and I were not on great terms considering we showed up exactly as the bell rang every single day and managed to disrupt class at least twice a week. Parent-teacher conferences sure would be fun this year, but as long as I wasn't in real trouble, I doubted my mom would even care at this point.
"Look, I'm really sorry about what I said about you not being able to run a marathon. You're the craziest person I know; if anyone is going to do it, it would be you," he said as his dark eyes bore into mine.
"I'm going to ignore the part where you aggressively insult me as "crazy" and just say thanks," I said with a smirk. He raised his eyebrows and I laughed. "Fine, you're not wrong."
"Honest though. You're the toughest, most determined person I've ever met. I'm sure you'll make it through all 26.2 miles and still be able to insult Iggy after crossing the finish line."
"I would run slower just to make sure that's a possibility," I added after a thought. "Sorry for being dramatic."
"What's life without a little flair?"
I leaned back against the lockers and let my knees give out until I was sitting on the floor and Fang quickly joined me.
"Storming out would have been more effective if you'd brought more than an apple," Fang said with a smirk looking down at my untouched apple balancing on my leg.
"Noted, I –"
"Hi Max," a cheerful voice rang out through the hallway. "Fang," he said after a pause.
"Dylan," Fang said through gritted teeth.
"Fang," I murmured grabbing his arm after I saw his hand clench into a fist.
"What are you two lovebirds doing out in the hallway? Avoiding wandering eyes? Getting some alone time together?"
"Get out, Dylan," Fang's voice was colder than I had ever heard it.
"I really don't want to interrupt," Dylan said sweetly.
"What do you want?" I asked glaring up at him. I didn't like sitting on the ground as he leered over us – it was unsettling, and I felt incredibly vulnerable, but I was afraid standing up would provoke Fang whose temper was fleeting at the best of times.
"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to invite you to my party this weekend Max. Nothing too special, just some cool people hanging out."
"Thanks, but no thanks Dylan. I won't even sit at your lunch table with you let alone go to your house for a party."
"Why not? Afraid a few drinks might loosen you up and let your true colors shine?"
I rolled my eyes, "You see, I would rather fling myself from the Empire State Building than have to spend any more time with you."
His perfect grin faltered for a second but remained plastered to his face. It was like he didn't know how to show emotion; he was like some robot. "But, we had such a good time together the last time we hung out."
At that comment, Fang lunged, and I felt myself lifted off the ground as Fang sprang to his feet. "You're gonna pay for that."
"Fang," I pleaded, "let's go. He's not worth it." Surprisingly, and thankfully, Fang's taut arm went slack and he let me drag him down the hallway away from Dylan. "He's just trying to get to you. Just ignore him."
"Easier said than done," he grumbled as we kept walking down the hallway and turned the corner.
"Can you at least explain to me the issues you have with each other? Clearly you hated him before this."
"What?" Fang asked very unconvincingly.
"Oh, come on. You called him an airhead the first time I mentioned him. You openly glare at him most times we pass each other. Besides, Iggy already confirmed with me that you two have beef, and I want to hear it."
"Not right now," he said running a tan hand through his long hair.
"Well, when then?" Yes, I know patience is a virtue, but it is not one that I have mastered.
He shrugged. Typical.
"Fang," I implored.
"Fine," he said with a groan intermixed with a chuckle. "We've just always butted heads for as long as I could remember. He stole my blocks in first grade, so I bit him."
"Naturally," I said barely able to suppress a laugh.
"In eighth grade, when I skied competitively, I was racing against Dylan. I was ahead of him by a few yards and seconds away from breaking a state record." His voice hardened, and his eyes narrowed; the change was subtle, but I instantly took note. "He put on as much speed as possible in the last decline before the finish and body slammed me from the right side. Hard. So hard I lost my balance and dislocated my shoulder when I fell. Dylan was obviously disqualified, but he took everything everything away from me. That record, that medal and win, skiing."
"Fang," I breathed. "I'm so sorry. I never would've talked to him if I'd known what a freak he was. That's completely mental – hurting you and disqualifying himself just so you wouldn't win and break his record." He just shook his head and scowled at the floor. I paused, and my voice grew soft, "Is that why you quit ski racing? Because of Dylan?"
He shook his head again, "No. I would never let him take that away from me forever. Thankfully, I didn't need the surgery, but I was still out from training for six weeks and racing for ten weeks which killed the rest of the season."
I was confused – if that's not what ended his ski racing career, what did? I had a feeling it would take more than an injury to keep Fang from the mountain, but had no way to piece together what it was.
"That must've killed you," I muttered. I couldn't imagine not being able to run for six days let alone six weeks. I was injured for a month right before freshman year and I drove everyone up the wall with all the extra energy I had pent up.
He nodded. "It would be different if it had been an accident. Or if he had at least pretended it was an accident." I was envisioning the scene in Cars when the gross green car smashes into super-car star Dinoco King, so he can win the race, and Dinoco ends up covered in dirt, grass-stained and dented on his final race ever.
"Speaking from a strictly professional and psychological point of view: that guy is wacked. It was eighth grade. What kind of psychopath thirteen-year-old is out for blood?" Fang chuckled, and I smiled to myself, happy I could bring a smile onto his face.
"You're not wrong."
"I'm never wrong."
"Not even just now when you stormed out of the cafeteria?" Fang asked with a twinkle in the corner of his dark eyes.
"Well, it worked. My point was made," I said defensively, and Fang just rolled his eyes. Nothing was new. "But, I am sorry for being 'unnecessarily dramatic' or whatever you called it."
Fang smirked before grabbing his backpack and hopping up to his feet. It would avoid annoying questions if no one knew we weren't actually working on a paper for Mr. Davis, and I was irritated enough for the day – I didn't need Iggy and Nudge harassing me about my relationship with Fang. It was strictly platonic.
A few hours later, I was walking home from school with Fang and Iggy who was swinging his backpack at squirrels and unsuccessfully reaching them. "Do you want to come over?" Fang asked as I turned into my sidewalk, "My mom made chocolate cookies."
"Do you even need to ask?" I quickly turned back off my lawn and followed the two boys up the street to Fang's house.
"You can talk to my mom about running stuff, marathons, all that if you want. I think she's home early today."
"Hi Mrs. Ride," I called as I followed them into the house.
"Hi Max!" Her warm voice called back, "Fang and Iggy is that you two?"
"Can't pull anything past you, can I, Mrs. Ride?" Iggy asked laughing as he sat himself at the table.
"Snacks?" Fang asked and I shook my head at him. A typical male, unable to anything for himself, I went to the pantry and pulled out Goldfish, pretzels and some carrots from the fridge.
"Ugh, thanks Max," Mrs. Ride said as she hurried into the kitchen. "Glad my son is unable to function as a human being by himself." I flashed Fang a cheeky grin and grabbed the container of strawberries and rinsed them and slid them onto the table.
My eyebrows furrowed as I watched Iggy inhaling Goldfish by the fistful, "It's like you haven't eaten since you were six."
He muttered something about "growing boys", "lots of exercise" and "lunch was hours ago".
Sufficiently grossed out, I hopped on their silence to change the subject. "So, Mrs. Ride. I'm thinking about signing up for the Denver Marathon, and Fang had said you'd run a few marathons before."
"That's awesome, Max! I've run Denver four times and it's an incredible race – you run all through the city, through the Bronco stadium and the volunteers are incredible and so supportive. Running a marathon is definitely something I would recommend; it's changed my outlook on life and really makes you think about your values and priorities when you're giving up so much time to train. Also, there's nothing like bragging rights for life," she added with a wink.
"Great, I'm so glad you think it's a good idea!"
"I would love to sit down with you sometime and help you get a training plan set up, go over nutrition and give you some tips. 95% of the training and racing is mental. Would you run it next spring?"
I nodded, "I don't think I have enough time to train for this years. It's May 20, and it's already the end of March." I shrugged, "I'd rather not rush it. I'm not too keen on getting any injuries."
"Maybe you could talk Fang into running it with you."
Fang snorted and nearly spit out his drink. "Yeah. Like I would ever run 26.2 miles for a free banana. No thanks."
Mrs. Ride rolled her eyes and turned to the pile of potatoes she was peeling, humming to herself.
"I've got some great ideas for signs for Max," Iggy said brightly. Fang shot him a warning look, but Iggy plowed on. "Worst parade ever. It's a Sunday – I don't move on Sundays. My feet hurt from standing here for 4 hours!"
"Very clever, Ig," I told him rolling my eyes. At least he kept out the one about your mom. I had a fear a lot of these signs would be put into action and very visibly paraded around downtown Denver in a years' time.
"Well, I'm going to pick up Angel from a friends. Max, shoot me a text whenever you'd like to talk about marathon training. I'll pick the brains of some of my running friends and see what pearls of wisdom the three of us can impart on you." She turned to Fang sounding very motherly, "No more snacks. Dinner will be in two hours."
Fang mumbled something about "always being hungry" as she turned towards the door. '
"Iggy and Max, you two are welcome to stay for dinner if you like," she called before walking out the door.
"As much as I would love to join the family dinner, I've gotta get back. I told my mom I would help her cook tonight."
"What are you making? Maybe I'll stop for dinner at your place," Iggy asked through a mouthful of pretzels.
"Well, considering I am only capable of making toast by myself, I will probably be stuck setting the table and doing dishes. You could call that cooking though. Why?"
"I'm quite the chef," he cracked his knuckles in front of him.
"A full-fledged Guy Fieri," Fang said grabbing a carrot.
"We're riding the bus to Flavortown!"
Iggy groaned as Fang and I smacked high-fives.
"It's the frosted tips, bro," Fang told him.
"I don't have frosted tips! You wish I had frosted tips. You know I would look good with frosted tips. As Guy Fieri would say, I would look funkalicious with frosted tips. You're welcome, world," he said kissing his fingers and holding them to the sky while I just rolled my eyes.
"Pretty sure food isn't the only reason he wants to go," Fang muttered under his breath.
"What?" My voice cut through the air like a knife.
Iggy's death glare was so impressive I was surprised Fang didn't fall out of his chair.
"Iggy."
"Max."
"What's the deal?"
"Nothing."
"Maybe he'd tell you if Ella was here," A subtle smirk played across Fang's lips.
"Ella?" Despite the confusion etched upon my face, no one did me the favor of explaining what was going on. It suddenly dawned on me as I noticed how red Iggy's face had become. "Are you into Ella?"
"What? No. Don't me ridiculous, Max."
"Come on, Iggy, don't be ridiculous. I have a gift – I can detect a lie within 50 feet and this is a blatant one."
"Spencer teaching you his tricks?" He asked with a scowl on his face.
"Maybe. But that's beside the point, you look like a tomato."
He groaned, "It's nothing. I just said I thought she was cute. Once. But really, it's nothing." Fang coughed non-discreetly and I raised my eyebrows. "Okay fine. I also said she was funny. Happy?"
"Not particularly," I said, and Fang laughed.
"Look, Max," he started, "It was a super brief, teensy weensy little crush. But it's over, okay?"
"What if I said she liked you too?"
"She does?" He asked his eyes wide.
"I have no idea, but you're practically glowing at the thought."
"That was uncalled for," he said glaring at me. Thankfully, my death stare is comparable to Iggy's, so I was not fazed.
"I was proving a point! But, because I am a gracious friend and doting sister, I will talk to her and see what I can do for you."
"You're lucky Fang's here Maximum Ride otherwise…" he shook his head dramatically.
"You're such a drama queen," Fang said piping up again.
"Well as fun as it is for me to picture you and my sister falling madly in love, I think I'm gonna go."
They both bade me good-bye as I grabbed my backpack, a fresh chocolate chip cookie for the road and headed out.
"Hi," I said brightly entering Ella's room to find her laying on her bed.
"Um hi?" she asked clearly confused by my desire to socialize. Normally after school I complained about school for an hour, laid in bed doing nothing for an hour, would go run and then complain some more about how I had no time for homework.
"How's," I completely blanked on the guy she had been talking to's name. "What's his face?"
"Oh, yeah. That's been over for a while. He was weird," Ella said nonchalantly skimming through a People magazine. "Why?"
I shrugged, "Just trying to bond with my little sister. Is that too much to ask?"
"It's too much to believe," she said turning on me. "What's up, Max?"
I groaned, "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone this."
"Come on!" Her demeanor changed instantly. "This can be your bonding with your little sister."
"Fine. I'm not naming names, but somebody were friends with thinks you're cute."
Ella's eyes grew wide with shock and pleasure. "Oooh, who?"
"I'm not telling!"
"Is it Derek?"
I shrugged in response.
"Is it Fang?" She laughed, "No, he's way too into you."
"What!" I shrieked cutting her off.
Ella just rolled her eyes laughing, "We talk about it all the time. You two are obsessed with each other but refuse to acknowledge your feelings."
Now I was the one rolling my eyes. "You're ridiculous. Why is a platonic best friend relationship so difficult for people to understand?"
"Because no two people ever are platonic," she explained in a very matter-of-fact, how-do-you-not-know-this-already tone. "You can be plantonish, but there's never the exclusive platonic relationship between two people." I opened my mouth to interject, but she plowed on. "I don't care how good of friends you are."
"This is absurd. Now, I'm definitely not telling you who thinks you're cute," I said turning to leave.
"I'll call Nudge. We'll know within two hours ayway. Besides, I can't wait to say 'I told you so' in approximately two months when you and Fang get married."
"Bite me," I called back as I threw myself onto my bed. I was preparing myself to do absolutely nothing for the next hour to prepare for my hour of complaining later. As I pulled up Netflix on my laptop, I couldn't help wondering why my heart was beating so rapidly when Ella told me that Fang was "way too into me."