A/N: What? It's only been a year and a half!

The man behind the Astroburger counter looks at the Fang clone and me as though we've sprouted wings. (A bit of birdkid humor there.) "So let me get this straight. You want eighteen Astroburgers, thirteen Comet Curly Fries, twenty Galactic Gulps, and eight Planet Pies." He looks over Not-Fang's shoulder for the rest of the party. His posse is hanging back by indoor trampolines. It's big enough to be somewhat intimidating, but nowhere large enough to order all the food. Cue moi.

The cashier's eyes slide back to me. "Would that be everything?" I can't help but catch a hint of sarcasm in that last sentence.

"Yes." The guy doesn't do anything, so I continue. "Thanks." He rolls his eyes in exasperation and starts calculating our total. Not-Fang pulls his wallet out of his back pocket.

"Hey, thanks for the food..."I trail off.

"Nick." Not-F-er, Nick responds with another one of those smiles. I blush when I find myself staring. What is wrong with me? It's not really Fang. . . not that I think of Fang that way or anything. "Why don't you go find us a table? It will probably take a while for them to fill the order."

"Sure." I turn on my heel, notice the posse, and ask, "How many are eating with us?"

Nick shrugs. "Don't worry about them. They know what to do." Um, okay? I brush crumbs off a seat far enough away to not cause suspicion and close enough I can hear the conversation. There are even conveniently-placed, reflective napkin dispensers that double as rear view mirrors. I can sit with my back to the Astroburger counter without having to worry about a sneak attack.

And, you know, watch Nick.

I study his posture from behind. He's carrying his weight in the balls of his feet, so more in the front than most people. To compensate for the weight of his wings? The curve of his back isn't too lumpy, but who knows what he could be hiding under that jacket? He plants his hands on the counter next to the register and leans over. If I didn't know any better, I would say his posture is threatening. I flick my eyes to his posse, but they don't notice or they choose not to. I'm beginning to get an idea of what kind of town this is. Nick's voice is low, but my birdkid hearing easily picks it out from the general chatter of the food court."Reno, put this on the tab." Reno, the poor guy behind the counter, looks put out, and he opens his mouth to complain, but Nick cuts him off with a look.

"By the way, the shipment came in last night. Consider this my payback." He looks around to make sure nobody's watching, only briefly glancing in my direction. Then he pulls and bundle from a hidden pocket in his jacket and drops it in front of Reno.

Reno grabs and stuffs it under the counter, stage-whispering, "Dude, not here! There are people watching!"

Nick casually looks around again, nodding when he catches the eye of someone in his posse. "Don't worry. We've got it covered," he says smoothly.

"Order up!" Reno's coworker calls. There are three trays of food on the counter. Nick glares at the coworker until he disappears in the back. An arrogant smirk on his face, Nick picks up the first tray.

In a moment of panic, Reno grabs Nick's shirtsleeve, almost toppling the stacks of paper cups. "Look man, I appreciate the gesture, but I can't keep covering for you. My boss has noticed-"

Nick shrugs Reno's hand off. "Reno, you need to get your priorities straight. Who are you more afraid of?" Reno's swallow is visible from here. Nick gives one last glare in Reno's direction. When he reaches my table, I pretend I've been picking at my nails.

"The food's ready." I look up, and almost startle at Nick's smile. Boy, the kid can switch expressions like Angel switches between favorite stuffed animal.

While I unwrap my first burger, two or three teens from Nick's group break away and pull up a table. It doesn't distract me from the two who slip through a door marked "Employees Only," though. Eventually the rest of them, all twelve, realize the food is ready and join Nick and me.

I observe them over my third Astroburger. They don't seem like much of a threat. Of course, neither did the Fang clone. When he starts telling a story to the rest of the group, I find it easy to stare unnoticed. He didn't order as much food as me, so there's a give-away he can't be a mutant. My eyes narrow. Unless he knows I'm looking for evidence. I say his name quietly under my breath. He takes no notice. Alright then, not a mutant. Which means he's not a clone, just a doppelganger? It seems unrealistic. I smirk. Like anything in my life would be considered realistic under normal circumstances.

I suddenly realize everybody's gone quiet. I look up from stuffing my face with Comet Curly Fries and realize they're all staring at me.

Great. What did I do this time?

I swallow my mouthful of fried goodness. "Uh..."

Nick looks a little exasperated. "What is your name?" Geesh. How many times has he asked me?

Obviously, I'm not going to tell him diddly-squat. "It's Marley. I just moved here." Nick doesn't look like he believes me, so I continue. "My parents work with a pharmaceutical company, so we move around a lot." Well, at least the moving is true. I could've gone with the missionary thing again, but that works better when I have Flock members present to play the part of my adopted siblings.

A boy that could be the poster child for teenage weightlifting asks, "You just moved here? What neighborhood do you live in?" They all watch me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

I force myself to blush. "I, uh, don't remember the name?"

"Well, there's the Red Creek neighborhood, the Ridgehelm area-"

I shrug apologetically. "I don't think I would recognize it if you said it. But it's in. . . let's see. . ." I pretend to look around, then gesture in a vague direction that could be interpreted almost any way. "That way. I came to the mall from that direction."

This seems to be the right answer, because the group exchanges glances with one another. I catch a subtle nod between Nick and the weightlifter. So, an interrogation?

I can do that.

A blonde brute at the head of the table asks about my family. I reply almost flippantly. "Mom and Dad are high-class paper-pushers at MedGate. They just got promoted, so we had to move here. They aren't around as much, because they work long hours. I've got a little brother, too. His name is Marcus."

There's a flurry of chuckles. "Marley and Marcus?"

I roll my eyes and sigh dramatically. "I know, right? What were my parents thinking? Anyways, I think he'll be going to the middle school in the fall." I pause a moment, gauging their reactions. I think I'm convincing them. "Oh, and my mom would kill me if I didn't include our pet parakeet, Fido. You know, because it's ironic?"

A girl with a half dozen ear piercings inquires as to my hobbies. I'm already making up my embellished reply about knitting when she elaborates. "You're in really good shape." Great. Am I going to have to explain my love-hate relationship with gymnastics, too? I open my mouth to explain, but an all-too familiar feeling cuts me off.

I whip my head around to watch as another group of young adults enters the food court. The two teens who snuck out earlier are with them. A boy with a shaved head surveys the area before his eyes land on our table. Nick stands, making some kind of meaningful eye contact with the guy. Nick's posse watches him. The guy slowly buries his hand in his jeans pockets and turns away, followed by the group he's with.

Nick does that macho chin thrust thing and suddenly everyone is dropping napkins and food back onto the table. They follow shaved-head's group out.

Nick watches them go with a critical eye. Then, seeming to remember me, he flashes an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Something came up." Then he's gone, too.

I'm absolutely itching with curiosity. I want to play detective, follow the teens to wherever they're going. But I know better. (Not that that usually stops me). This time, though, I have bigger fish to fry. Nick was my only lead, and only because he looks like Fang, but it's pretty clear that he has nothing to do with the School now. If I get distracted again, I may never find the Flock.

My stomach growls. I grab a paper bag and stuff it full of fries and half-eaten burgers. Searching means flying, and flying means I'll need food again, and soon.

I exit the mall with my stash and go in the opposite direction of Fang's doppelganger.

So, I've decided to write shorter chapters so I can update more often. Also, I already have half of the next chapter written! But my next two weeks are going to be crazy, so I probably won't post it until later.

Um, read and review! (And if you are one of those people who have been following me since I started this fanfic, I'm really sorry about not updating. And you rock.)