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A/N: I don't think I'd have enough time to write an author's note at the bottom so anyways: second rewritten chapter! This is the longest I've written so far. Thanks for all those reading, and please continue! updating might be slower than expected if I keep writing long chaps like this XD
Anyways, please check out my other fic ok? I've only got 2 chapters, but I'm almost done with the third XP
Okay, gotta go, we have a soccer tourney in an hour (paaaaanic) R&R! thanks for reading!
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
Max POV
I tripped.
My first day of school, and I tripped.
Oh, oh, even better: I bumped into someone.
After I tripped, of course.
Big fat freaking kudos, right?
WRONG.
I guess I should explain, you know, before I start ranting. But when else would I not rant? Oh, maybe if my mom hadn't dragged me away from home, out of my old school and into a new one, away from all my other friends and stuck with clueless strangers, I wouldn't be ranting my head off!
But nooo, I just had to be such a kind, loving and compassionate daughter who would consider her mother's happiness more important than her own, making her life a living hell to make someone else's a freaking dream come true!
Oh, don't expect me to stop ranting 'cause I'm on a roll!
Besides the fact that I'm already so claustrophobic, my allergies—don't ask—seem to have doubled since I got here. And who in their right mind would actually manage to sneeze and not close their eyes? Not me, that's for sure.
So yeah, I sneezed, just had to close my eyes…
Then I tripped.
Oh, and I bumped into someone.
After I tripped.
Lucky the person I bumped into just happened to be strong enough to stop both of us from falling over, right?
WRONG!
"Craaap," I muttered to myself, feeling my face heat up and my heartbeat quicken.
"You ok?"
My heart jumped at the sound of that voice. It was so soft and gentle. I didn't think someone could actually pull that off. A perfect voice, I mean. Much less on some teenage guy who probably fish for girls. But somehow…with that voice, you can pretty much put all your trust in, you know? It doesn't fit some guy with an ego the size of USA. It'd be more like this disgusting sound coming out a relatively cute face. And hey, cute face, perfect voice, and these buffed arms and chest? Total hottie much (did I just say that??).
"U-uh, yeah. Thanks," I stuttered—wait, I never stutter! "Sorry about that. It's just—I blinked and—"
"Don't worry about it," he said, standing me up properly. I looked up to see his face and practically felt my heart stop.
This guy.
Is gorgeous.
Damn. The dictionary is so useless! It's practically the UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR. I don't know what word in all languages that could actually describe him. I mean, messy blonde hair, big blue eyes and the cutest, sweetest smile ever? You've got to consider that gorgeous.
"Uhh, um, thanks…again," I said, trying to force actual words out of my mouth.
He smiled, making my heart skip another beat. "You're new."
It wasn't a question.
"Jake," he said, smiling at me.
"Max," I replied, smiling back.
"Short for what?" he asked, looking thoughtful. "Maximum?"
I blinked, my eyes widening. "How'd you know?"
He shrugged, and I couldn't help but notice the gold sheen coming off of the sun's light reflecting on his spiky hair (WTF is wrong with me?!). "I dunno. I just guessed."
My brows furrowed, confused. "Oh. Well, you're good."
He grinned, making my heart skip another beat. I swear if he keeps doing that I'd be dead pretty soon. "Well, thanks. Though you should meet my other friends: they can read anyone like a book."
I gave a short laugh. "Yeah, I'll look forward to that."
He was about to say something else when someone suddenly yelled, "GAZ! GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE BEFORE THIS THING EXPLODES!"
Uh…explodes?
"Shoot," Jake muttered. "Uh, well, nice meeting you. I sorta need to uh…go. Anyways, see 'ya later!" He already started jogging away, waving at me and flashing me that smile again.
"Uh…okay!" I called back. "See 'ya!"
"Oh my god, Max."
I nearly jumped at the sound of Angel's voice. I guess two seconds wasn't enough time for me to actually expect someone to not talk to me. Jake, I guess, wasn't the first guy. I bumped into him and apologized and everything, so, like the guy he is, he replied to the apology in a really sweet way. And since we didn't know each other, he introduced himself so Ihad to as well. 'Nough said.
Wait…why was I defending him?
"That guy you were just talking to?" Angel went on.
"Yeah? What of him?" I asked, tucking in loose strands of hair behind my ear.
"That was Gazzy. He's one of the top five hottest guys in school. He's really sweet too, you know? Not like those guys with humongous egos and all. And he's got the sweetest smile…"
"Gazzy?" I said, cutting into her daydreaming. "But he said his name's—"
"—Jake, I know," Angel interrupted. "That's his real name. Gazzy's just a nickname for him. He doesn't really like to introduce himself as Gazzy. It's kind of weird for him, I guess.."
"Oh." Was all I could come up with.
Great, first friend is part of the top five hot list. Just great. I've got the attention swooning over to me already.
Then again, I wouldn't be surprised if he was top 1. Never in my life have I seen such a perfect face, some buffed arms and chest, and the most angelic voice I've ever heard.
Gazzy huh…
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Gazzy POV
"What's happening??"
"The fuse is going haywire! This thing will blow any second!"
"What have you got in there?"
"The basics, but we put in blue cheese CAN YOU STOP IT??"
"Wait! Wait!"
I gritted my teeth, annoyed at the non-stop beeping trying to kick my sanity off-edge. I found it really funny when the teachers got pissed just hearing the noise, but now I was pretty darn annoyed at it myself. It really gives you a sense of impending doom, bombs. Not the best thing to know when it's partnered with reek that'll last a few months. It'd be even worse if it explodes eight up your face with a stench that can make your eyes bleed.
Yeah, you read right: eyes.
I toggled with the case, busting open the top cover with a flat screwdriver. Inside, the wires were pretty messed up, the 'stink' part of the bomb was virtually untouchable—unless I'd want a bomb explode in my face a second time—and the latch to the gunpowder and explosive chemicals was welded shut. All I could do now is fix up the timer and hope to know exactly when this thing's programmed to blow for an escape.
If we could escape.
"Crap," I muttered, glaring at the mix of numbers and letters flashing on and off on the timer. Still no detonation time. "Where's Iggy?"
"He's disabling the links connected to that. For the meantime, at least," Mike replied. "At least when it blows, it won't take the roof with 'em."
I smirked. If Iggy had taken part in making this bomb—which is highly likely—it would be hellishly hard to disable it. That guy's a wizard with bombs, and if he doesn't disable one, no one can.
No one but me, though.
I snapped a green wire and grinned, seeing the timer's numbers slow down to a stop. It would take at least a minute for the timer to show certainty, and I wasn't sure if it wouldn't blow at that duration.
But there's another thing about Iggy: he's got too much tricks up his sleeves. Disable a bomb and another one magically appears. Elongate the timer and it explodes right in your face. He's got backups for backups, I tell you. Even backups for those backups! Oh, and when he's started a link he doesn't stop. We've got some wires running throughout the whole school, for crying out loud! We just add the bombs and the whole thing comes tumbling down into a lowly heap of rubble and failed quiz papers.
I've only gotten halfway into Iggy's truck of tricks, and I've only so far disabled what he would probably consider the easy ones. When it comes to bombs, explosives and about every thing that could make a huge puff of smoke, Iggy's the master.
Yet we're still even.
For a really long time now, Iggy and I have been creating bombs together, rating them from a scale of 1-10, even more if we use actual acids and chemicals. It's more like a really dangerous game of "Make the biggest explosion" you know? It's all fun, but we can mess up sometimes.
Like now, for example.
"Iggy, you messed up," I said.
"How'd you know I was here?" came the reply.
"You stomp like an elephant," I said. "Now can you please fix this?"
I heard him sigh and swiftly move over to me.
Iggy doesn't, of course, stomp like an elephant. He's actually pretty annoying whenever he pops up out of nowhere or suddenly gets up your face, it's just that he carries around this aura-like thing with him. It's like when he gets close to you, the hairs at the back of your neck stand up and you feel a little tingly and stuff. It gets uncomfortable sometimes, depending on his mood, but mostly just makes you alert, knowing that he's right behind you and all.
"What exactly is wrong again?" he asked me, bored. He yawned and glanced at me, and all I could give him was this bored-looking annoyed look, narrowing my eyes at him.
"Timer's bust and the fuse is going berserk CAN YOU PLEASE STOP IT NOW??" Mike hollered, looking like he was on the verge of jumping off the school roof. (And, yeah, we were on the school's roof—just where we planted the dozen of bombs all around). "The laptop's in my locker, so I can't override the darn thing. And seeing as you made most of this bomb, I don't think I'll be able to make it in time."
Iggy smirked, sighing as he poked the bomb a few times, turning it in different angles. He stopped at one particular corner, upper-right part of the timer's edge. He lazily raised his closed fist about half a foot up and slammed it down on that spot.
We stared at him, bemused.
He continued staring at the timer, taking about two seconds before blinking, blinking another time, and then widening his eyes—all in another second.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Grab your skateboards now or whatever just TAKE COVER!" Iggy yelled, grabbing both Mike and I by the collar of our shirts or the hoods of our jackets and dragging us away.
I stole a quick glance at the bomb, and almost as instantly, my eyes widened.
00:09:56
"HOLY COW GET OFF THE ROOF!!"
It was like a race to not get killed. To not get doomed to at least a month of stink clinging to your clothes. To not get blasted off the roof and fall to what could be your imminent death as a splat on the floor.
In other words: ESCAPE.
It took us six whole seconds to actually run to our backpacks, slip them around an arm, grab our skateboards and run back to the edges of the roof—particularly the one nearest a divider-slash-wall, ramps, and the railings.
"EVERYONE WATCH OUT!" Iggy bellowed, a huge grin on his face, grabbing his skateboard's trunks as he ran.
00:00:00
That's when a deafening explosion shot us off the roof.
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Max POV
"EVERYONE WATCH OUT!"
I snapped my head in the direction of the voice, and I saw, in the corners of my eyes, everyone else doing the same.
And in that split second, a huge explosion erupted from the school's roof. I ducked my head, shielding it with my arms. I could see other people do the same, the ones closer running for cover. A few screams rang through the campus, a few loud thuds and bangs came crashing down.
I gotta admit, it's not really every first day of school I find it's ceiling explode.
"What the—" I heard Angel mutter beside me.
I looked back up and immediately felt my jaw drop. Everything suddenly went in slow motion, and I got every single detail of what was happening, who I was focused on, and the insane-like-heck stunt they were doing.
Emerging right out of the huge cloud of smoke shrouding the whole school's roof, shooting through the air, easy, smoothly, and at a frightening speed, Jake—I mean Gazzy—a tall, strawberry-blonde with what looked like snowboarding goggles, and another one with black hair, mini, cracked up computers at his belt and wires held in one hand was pushed powerfully forward and off the roof by the impact of the explosion. For some reason, they all had huge grins on their faces, laughing as they were slowly being pulled down by gravity. I noticed blood dripping down the strawberry-blonde's hand, a long line trailing down his shoulder too. They all held skateboards in one hand, their packs around a shoulder, and a bunch of wires and tools as well.
Okay, call me crazy but I think they made the bomb.
Gazzy, the strawberry-blonde, and the techie each brought their skateboards below their feet. About six yards from the nearest wall-slash-divider-thing, the guys all laughed loudly, huge, mischievous grins plastered on their faces.
Okay, don't call me crazy. Call them crazy.
"Wow, second sem is getting off to a wild start," Angel laughed.
I stared at her, bewildered.
Out of the blue, a loud roar of cheers rang throughout the campus, effectively smashing my eardrums. I looked back up to the mayhem and gaped.
With loud, resounding smashes, all three guys' skateboards slammed onto solid concrete. They all winced, probably from impact, and soon enough were they skateboarding through the thin walls separating our school from the fields within each side of the vicinity. The techie had immediately lost balance and one-eightied off the wall, landing on the ground and slipping off his skateboard. Gazzy, on the other hand, had skateboarded at least half the wall and ollied off it, grinding on the staircase's railings, and then landing on the ground, skidding off before he eventually tumbled out of it. But the strawberry-blonde had skated the whole opposite wall, one-eightied off to the railings and did a 360 to the ground. Perfect landing.
"Whoa…" I muttered, amazed.
"If you're amazed now, you should see it when they don't mess up," Angel said beside me, giggling.
"Mess up…?" I said, glancing at the three boys.
"Yeah," Angel replied, smiling at me and walking forward. I followed her. "When Iggy himself warns us of something, we're sure they've messed up somehow."
"Uh…Iggy?" I asked. Not that I'm complaining or anything, it's just that I am still new here and Angel clearly thinks less of that. She should update me on stuff and tell me who's who and everything. It would be better if she still thinks I'm new more than the rest of the guys with their eyeballs trained on me. Seriously.
"Oh, sorry," Angel said, chuckling. "Forgot you were new."
See what I tell 'ya?
"Uhm, Iggy, oh yeah," Angel went on, and I could very clearly see the flush on her cheeks. "Second hottest guy around. But you could say third 'cause first is like, a tie and everything, and there're two guys there, so I guess Iggy's—"
"—Angel!" I snapped, cutting in on yet another one of her daydreams.
"Oh, sorry," Angel said again, smiling sheepishly. "Well, uh, Iggy's Gazzy's closest friend. They're like brothers, really, and they're always partners-in-crime." She chuckled.
"'Crime'?" I asked.
"Ohh, you know," Angel continued. "They're sorta like rebels—in a, uh, good way, I guess—and they're like pranksters and everything, and they're always there to cheer anyone up." She blushed slightly. "And, as you can see, they're big with bombs."
"So they did that?" I exclaimed.
"Yeah," she answered simply.
"Wha—huh?"
"Uhm, ohkay, it might be weird for you since it's, you know, your first day and everything, but Gazzy and Iggy are bomb experts around here. They usually do stink bombs for teachers and lots of others, but sometimes they mess up—like, you know, now." She glanced at the smoke piling up on the roof.
"Then who's the other guy?" I asked, looking pointedly at the techie being crowded around by concerned teens—I think.
"Oh, that's Mike," Angel answered. "He's the computer genius here, all good with all the technical-mechanical stuff. But don't get him wrong," she continued. "he's not a geek or a nerd. He's just really smart."
I failed to understand that.
I scanned the area for Iggy, finding him limping towards Gazzy—who I saw was on the floor, his chest heaving up and down in deep pants. It was only now that I noticed how close we were to them, and also now that I felt my heart beating faster than what was normal for me.
I couldn't comprehend the fact that I was acting this way. And there was the fact that these guys were too impossible. Never in my life have I seen guys like these. So perfect, yet so imperfect all the same.
The hardest to comprehend, though, was the basic fact that I was thinking like this.
Puberty? No, the squeaky voice has been dealt with.
Bad eyesight? Nah, I've got freaking raptor vision.
Hormones?
…
…
Crap.
I thought they'd never kick in—and I was considering that as a good thing—but was there any other explanation besides the fact that I was being mutated more than I'm capable of? I mean, I'm actually, miraculously turning into them. Them being the boy-crazy-make-up-gossip-girls who've dedicated their lives to hunting down boys and pursuing them (no offence to those with commonsense enough to know they are, indeed, one of the boy-crazy-make-up-gossip-girls I'm talking about—peace).
NO. NO WAY was I turning into them. I mean, why waste a perfectly wasted reputation of having not a single boyfriend all my life?
And yeah, wasted 'cause I left the school that my reputation had been known in.
And again, it wouldn't have been wasted if I were still back home, still an only child, and still back home!
BUT—I'm a stranger here. Nobody knows my past—neither do I, actually; at least, half my past—and my reputation doesn't precede me for a million miles, that's for sure. I guess starting a fairly cleaner slate than the one I struggled with last time would help.
Not that I'm considering being a boy-crazy-male-up-gossip-girl person or anything. It's not me, no matter how much change I dare do to my supposed rep.
—was it me or did Iggy just look at me?
…
…
Craaap.
"You okay, bro?"
I could've just died. Seriously. My heart shouldn't keep skipping beats like this. More of this skipping and I'm seriously gonna die.
There can't be so much people with a perfect voice, can there?! It's like the world suddenly tilted sideways and all the perfect people fell into one place or something. Either that or heaven was suddenly set on fire and all the angels just…fell off or something.
Okay, now that's just plain stupid.
It was just now that I actually put into thought the fact that Gazzy had not been specified as to what number he was at the top 5, but Iggy's second, right after two guys who were supposedly tied in position at top one…and seeing as Iggy is supposed to be second—he must look better—hotter—than Gazzy.
I somehow found that very, very impossible.
But I was wrong about that.
Barely.
"Dude that was so nine-point-five," I heard Gazzy reply, laughing.
I blinked and found Iggy helping Gazzy up from the floor, feigning a drop just for fun. Gazzy gave him a playful smack at the back of his head, and soon enough was the crowd sighing and moving on with their business (oh lookey here..a group of giggling girls with shiny b-dazzled purses and shoes just happened to stick around—puh-leez). I saw Iggy's hand shoot up to his goggles, pulling them up to his forehead, making his already messy and dirt-sprinkled hair even messier—but he got rid of a few clumps of dirt—or covered them. All I saw was the back of his head—since, you know, he was facing the other way—but at this range, I could see how seriously tall this guy is. Yeah, I'm tall for my age, and so is Gazzy, but with being tall, Iggy takes the cake—and gobbles it up, more likely—he sticks out pretty well, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's on the basketball team
So technically I was only looking at his back, big deal, I'd be bracing myself for a possible heart attack when—or if—he turns around—which would actually be necessary since the other way was smack into a wall. Gazzy himself had given me a jumpstart, and someone better than that would kill me. (It isn't possible, I tell you! No one could actually look better than Gazzy! And by heck could anyone look better than the guy who looks better than Gazzy! Which isn't possible either!)
Someone suddenly brushed past me, making his was towards Iggy and Ja—Gazzy. I recognized him to be Mike—what with the small computers around his waist. He had pulled up his inky black, gray-stained goggles to his forehead too, making his hair spike up neatly away from his face—which actually looked pretty good (but don't get me wrong, it just looked OK).
I didn't miss the large black blotch at the bottom of his black pants, though, clearly stating that he got either burned or the fall and impact made something bleed.
"Evr'yone OK?" he asked, glancing at me for a second.
There was no chance of another human being as good-lookin' as Gazzy. Serious. Gazzy's rare.
"Sprained ankle. Possible contortion," Iggy said. "For Gaz, I mean. Me, just the usual burns and another gash on my shoulder, thanks to both your weights."
I saw Mike smirk, giving a short laugh.
But…who's to say that all the rare kind of teens like Gazzy piled up in the same school?
"And you've got another scratch, right?" Iggy piped up, and from where we were I could see the side of his face—that was it.
If there were more, I'd freely call them mutants, thank you very much.
And I'm one to say something like that.
But by god did my own logic defy me when Iggy turned.
He had J—Gazzy's arm around his shoulders, supporting half his weight, seeing as his other leg was the one sprained. Gazzy glanced at me and flashed a sheepish smile, grinning afterwards and mouthing a 'hi' (another skip).
And now, as living, breathing witness, I hereby prove the quote "If looks could kill" TRUE.
And again, I've proven the uselessness of a decent-enough dictionary, also TRUE.
Ugh, I can't describe him and not make him sound ugly. It would take all the good adjectives ever made combined just to pull that off.
So let's just say that the first, unintelligent thought—and word—that came out of my mouth was my pathetic description for the guy:
"Wow…"
I reluctantly tore my eyes away from him, focusing on the puff of smoke on the roof. If anyone at all would've heard me say that, there was no way in hell were they going to see me saying that about a guy. Oh no, I wouldn't say that about a guy. The puff of smoke on the roof was snaking up the sky in a weird way—that was a WOW.
…
…
Okay, who the hell am I kidding?! How would some big puff of smoke suddenly be so interesting? Sure it's like some bio-chemical whatsamahooey was trying to get through to the sky, but there's no way I would really, seriously pay attention to that.
"Uh, Max?" Angel said from beside me. "Why're you staring at…"
I blinked, looking at her. "Huh—what?"
"You're staring at the…Ohhh, I get it," Angel said, giggling again. "If your mom's a doctor, I guess, you'd tend to notice stuff like this too, huh?"
"What?" I asked, confused.
She nudged my elbow and made me turn to look at the school's roof full on, pointing. "Iggy and Gazzy don't use real chemicals—unless necessary—and they always put stuff that won't cause any damage of any kind to the sky. The smoke actually kills bacteria and other viruses. It's like a certain kind of snake's venom: not too much, and it could be used as a vaccine; a huge amount and it could be fatal. Everyone knows that, of course, even a few teachers or so, that's why no one really worries all that much."
"Whoa," was all I came up with, actually interested at the smoke. Smart people, they are.
But I couldn't get their faces off my head.
For one, they looked like brothers—just like Angel had said. Iggy had strawberry blonde, or more likely red highlights just blending in with his pale-blonde hair. It was really like seeing a movie star who's had angels fix him up, carving his face to perfection, making a gorgeous mess of hair on his head, and adding the perfect build for the perfect kind of guy. It wasn't exactly the fact that he looked better than Gazzy, he just sort of looked like the 'older' brother of the two or something. I don't know! I abandoned all hope for dictionaries already remember?
"So Max…" Angel whispered hesitantly to me, her cheeks slightly red. "What do you think of Iggy? Ain't he cute or what?"
Since she's technically my sister, I guess I could share stuff with her. But I wasn't really ready for that yet. I don't think I could bust my cover just 'cause of that. Sure she's my new sister and everything, but we haven't been sisters. If we were born sisters, I guess we could just as easily share tons of secrets. But no, we were new to each other, and I was planning to keep it like that—in a different way.
"Sure, Ange," I said with a tone that meant 'if you think so'. "Iggy's cute." Gawd, cute?! Sheesh. That's it?! I guess it's a good enough substitution with thousands of meanings—for all girls out there—but its such a puny word. Weensy. Tiny. Little. Not worth calling Iggy. Or Jake—I mean Gazzy.
Angel laughed, and I looked at her, confused. "What?" I asked for the third time now.
"N-nothing," she said, stuttering in between laughs.
I rolled my eyes. "Whatever."
All too suddenly, Angel's brows furrowed, both in confusion and frustration. I gave her a questioning look, but she ignored me.
"Max…it's—it's Wednesday today, right?" she asked, still staring blankly at the road.
"Huh? Uh..yeah, it's Wednesday, why?" I replied, looking at her curiously.
But she ignored me. Again.
That was when I heard something that resembles a motorcycle being started for a race, somewhere far, but close enough for my freakish hearing to pick up. I noticed lots of girls snapping their heads so fast in the direction, their hair would've sliced someone's head off, and lots of guys swiveling their heads away from me (oh thank god!) and furrowing their brows—some were even glaring, for some reason.
I had no idea what was happening, of course, and Angel went to pretty much ignoring everything I was asking, so yeah, tough luck for the new kid.
Also, I noticed Ja—Gazzy running his palm down the back of Iggy's head, bringing Iggy's upper body bent a little low. Gazzy laughed at his trick shot and started hopping on one leg away from Iggy who was, in turn, annoyed, revengeful, but laughing all the same. Since he didn't have any leg injuries—that I know of—he gained pretty quickly and ran his arm around Gazzy's neck, strangling him and giving him a playful nuggy. They both laughed, just like brothers, and fought playfully among each other.
Mike, who was right behind them, was sighing and scratching the back of his head, a bored look on his face. Iggy noticed and blinked at him, mimicking Mike's expression. He started talking to the techie with a grin on his face, and I could clearly see Mike shaking his head about something—about him, I think—arguing with a grinning Iggy. Mike looked pretty annoyed, glancing every once in a while at the big black blotch at the bottom of his pants. Iggy put his hands at the back of his head, grinning still. He suddenly looked at Mike's big blotch and grinned, telling the techie something before eventually kicking the blotch. It wasn't a strong hit, as it looks, but it was strong enough to hurt whatever's under Mike's blotched pants.
No longer was Mike hopping up and down, clutching his ankle, wincing with one eye, and screaming stuff at Iggy, who, on the other hand, just laughed along with Jake—I mean, Gazzy.
...
Ugh. Can't…tear…eyes…away…from them…
I flinched, hearing the loud roar of a motorcycle engine again. This time, more girls were giggling, squealing, and making every unnecessary noise just 'cause of that sound.
Darn. I still don't know what the hell is going on.
"Ohmygod," Angel muttered, her eyes wide.
"What? What is it?" I demanded.
"Max," she said, slowly turning to me. "I think, since you're new, its time for you to meet them."
What? "Huh? Who's them?"
Louder engines, this time.
Angel grinned, making me flinch at her mischievous look.
"The ones at the top of the hottie list," she concluded. "You've probably been hearing weird names like 'Iggy' and 'Gazzy' but, weird or no, one of the guys' names are so badass."
Top? No way. Not possible. At least, I think it's not possible. "Then…what's the name?"
She grinned at me.
"Fang."
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