\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Iggy POV-
It's been about ten to fifteen minutes since I've heard the almost familiar roar of the engines. The specific type of resonance that came out newly tuned and ready from Jack's Chopper Crib. Jack was a practical genius with machinery. Heck, he even taught Gaz an' I small pipeline magnification with explosions. It nearly killed all of us, yeah, but it was a blast. Three weeks in the hospital was so worth it. No charges pressed, of course. I know having huge grins n' smiles after you nearly got blasted to bits sounded crazy, but it also meant we didn't care. Even the sometimes-uptight Gazzy threw off four doctors and three nurses.
I was a tad annoyed at the fact that I'd heard it coming. I mean, having to know about stuff you shouldn't that just kills excitement and invades privacy was annoying, right? I'd consider it annoying. I like excitement. The thrill. The suspense. It's why we make bombs. We're daredevils. We take risks. There's always that possibility that the bomb you're trying to cook up might just explode in your face. Set you on fire. Kill you. But that's the thrill. That's where the suspense lies. And we like it that way.
And hearing things that kill the suspense sucks.
I'm not really against the fact that I had some sort of super-hearing. Or super-senses. Or feathery things juttin' outta my back. It's just that they're hard—if not impossible—to turn off.
I'm supposed to be against it, I guess, if you were meant to be normal—fully human. But I guess I'm just…used to it. Even though, probably five, six years ago, I'd have given anything just to lose the darn abnormality, but now…well, I don't know. There'd be hesitation. Lots of it. But the decision I'd never know for sure. It's not really as if there'd be something that could actually help, right?
But anyway, with the super-hearing, the fact that they were gonna try out their newly improved bikes today was already surprise-lost. This morning it barely even registered to me that it was Wednesday, the day Jack usually gets awesome shipments from some hi-tech places. Also the day when they always get some major tune-ups and first-hand fixes from Jack for their bikes. They're cool, those bikes, and I'd have dismantled it and put it back together myself just to have a look at every single detail of it. But I'm not some mach-nut or anything. It's just that one look at those and even the best motorcycle mechanic or rider would stop and stare. The frame itself was off the heat, but the rest would just be indescribable. Works of art, those machs. Ain't seen nothing like 'em. So far some of the best I've seen, no doubt. If only we didn't have to jump off the roof and sit by the bench practically right beside the road, I wouldn't have heard the engines running. Well, maybe just a little, but I don't think I'd have recognized 'em as engines.
"They're comin'," Mike said, looking dourly around us.
"Hm?" Gazzy said. "Why d'you say so?"
Mike pointed some sort of lazy-sheepish finger at some flock behind us. "Girls're gigglin' like crazy."
I followed his motion and looked innocently around us. He was right: girls were having lotsa fits of girlish giggles. Some sounded absolutely disgusting, but some sounded cute and, well…girly.
"'Cept for Max, though'," Gazzy said, staring fixedly at someone, a smirk on his face.
"Max?" Mike and I asked in unison.
"Who's Max?" Mike continued, looking questioningly at Gazzy, the annoyed look on his face gone.
"Oh, right," Gazzy said, shaking his head a bit. He smiled sheepishly at us and said, "Max is the new girl here. Met her for a bit a while ago. We were talking when you bellowed at me from the roof to get up and fix the bomb." He jabbed a finger at Mike's shoulder playfully, making Mike flush a bit.
"O-oh, uh, right," Mike stuttered, scratching his jaw a bit. "So the blonde chick you were talkin' to's Max?"
"Yep," Gazzy nodded, turning his gaze over to one side, making sure the sidewards glance wouldn't be a bit too obvious. "Over there."
We followed his gaze, looking over our shoulders. We faked a few glances and dodged a few girls' stares before finding this supposed Max person.
"The one with Angel, right?" Mike asked, briefly pointing a sided finger.
"Guys, help the half-blind guy here, would 'ya?" I prompted.
For those who care, having only half your vision gets really annoying. Even though I have some sort of raptor vision, I really, seriously can't see with my right eye. It all happened in a freak accident sometime ago, and now I'm stuck with only one good eye. It's just annoying that I don't get to see stuff immediately—unlike some 20-20-visioned people out there.
Gazzy chuckled and grabbed my shoulder a little brusquely, giving something sort of a rough nudge in one direction—a direction which was, by the way, out of my right eye's line of sight.
"There," Gazzy said, pointing with his eyes to a pair of girls. "The one beside Angel."
I turned to face the direction he was—technically—pointing at, closing my right eye for some sort of cover up for what could be a rude gesture or action towards a girl. There're a lot of stuff that should be concealed and all of that, but I'm really never sure when I should hide some suspicions sometimes. Old habit, I guess. Hard to break.
"Whoa," Mike said beside me, the surprised tone in his voice poorly screened.
It took a few seconds for my brain to actually register the fact that there was this gorgeous new girl standing about nine yards from me, talking to Angel and flicking various strands of hair away from her face. She looked sort of familiar, but I'm not sure if I've ever seen her anywhere else. Beside her, Angel was giggling cutely, a lot like some girls around us—except a bit cuter. That was Angel, all right. It was just now, though, that I've noticed so many flocks of girls giggling around us. I heard them, but I don't think I was concentrating that much. There were massive amounts of 'em, those giggling girls. I guess I really didn't notice 'till now.
"She's so outta your league, Gaz," Mike laughed, giving Gazzy a playful slap at his shoulder. "That girl's more gorgeous than most of the supermodels I've seen." He laughed harder.
"Ri-i-i-i-ight," Gazzy chuckled, laughing along. "She's new. Cut her some slack. She looks like she doesn't like attention."
"Well, that's gonna be hard," Mike noted. "I don't see any other guy not lookin' at her."
"Dudes," I said, "She is hot."
Gaz and Mike stared at me.
…
…
Then we all burst out laughing.
"Nice, Ig. Nice," Mike commented, clutching his stomach as he laughed.
"But true," Gazzy added, only chuckling now. "No matter how you look at it, it's true."
"Good man," I said, still chuckling. I round my arm around his shoulders and dragged his neck down for a noogie (you know, I never really knew the spelling of that word). We all continued laughing our heads off, and Gazzy ruffled my already messed up hair even more. Gazzy gave me a grateful look, accompanied by one of those smiles you always seem to agree with. It's annoying sometimes, yeah, what with the practical brainwash and everything—add to the fact that it's technically a "bambi-eyes" replacement—but he always gives me the feeling that I'm a genuine big brother. It's a sense of brotherhood we've always had. I mean, Gazzy can't possibly last a week without having to blow up a bomb in his face without me. Haha, well, just maybe. The kid learns fast, and he's got his own tricks up his sleeve, but you just never know, right? At least that's a mystery I'll be trying to figure out for a while.
"You guys are really like brothers," Mike noted, smirking.
"The hell are 'ya talkin' about?!" I hollered at him, my free arm shooting out and wrapping itself around his neck, dragging his head down. I ruffled Gazzy's hair with my other hand and laughed, "You're family too!"
We continued laughing, and I couldn't help but flash a smile at Max, who had smiled in our direction since I started messing with Gaz and Mike's hair. I don't know how my mouth suddenly curved up to a smile, and by god did I not know what the hell I looked like with a matching mop on my head and smoky, ashen clothes crumpled to the skin, but I guess it didn't look entirely hideous when she smiled a little sheepishly back and turned around, hiding some incredibly cute blushes. I saw Angel cast a questioning glance in our direction, thankfully missing our small group, and then looking confusedly around, probably searching for whoever Max looked at. I saw her draw Angel's attention away from her puzzled search, looking as though she was asking a question. Angel immediately took the change in subject, answering whatever Max's question was. I smirked, rolling my eyes.
Suddenly, besides the uncontrollable giggles erupting from all the girls around us, some even more uncontrollable squeals rang through the campus. It was a whole lot like some sort of siren, a deafening alert for all the girls here, apparently. I cast another glance at Max, wondering worriedly if she'd be giggling too. I knew, just by looking, that she didn't seem like most of the girls here—or anywhere, actually—but I wasn't entirely sure. Luckily, though, and somehow a little weirdly, she was actually covering her ears in annoyance. I blinked at the sight, but I was somewhat relieved. Also a bit curious, I guess. She's one hot girl and she apparently didn't have the ego most girls would have if they were her. Also, she was, in no way, like most of the gigglin' girls obsessing over some trivial stuff I don't really want to think about.
And I liked her that way.
Out of the blue, two jet-black motorcycles tore through the road and curved down the corner at a frightening speed, barely any smoke leaving the exhaust. I had no idea Jack would actually finish the low-exhaust-output thing he was considering a long-term-post-project-in-the-making so quickly, but that's just him: unpredictable.
"Dude, those bikes are awesome," Mike commented, his eyes glistening with his contacts in place. "And the speed! Man, Jack's done it again."
Gaz and I chuckled, our eyes trained on the motorcycles speeding their way through the road. It wasn't a part of showing-off, that's for sure, I mean, why else would they turn sharply around the curve, race through the parking lot (technically), and park the bikes at the back of the school (technically)?
"Yo, Ig."
I turned, scratching my head and sighing. Never mind admiring the bikes if I don't get to dismantle them.
"Yeah?" I replied, annoyed at my right eye's disability.
"Jack said you guys have to come to his sho—crib after school," Nick said, taking off his helmet and ruffling his hair.
I did a double take on the bike he was perched on.
"You can't dismantle it," Nick said protectively, laying a hand on the motorcycle's frame.
I raised my hands in mock surrender, sighing. "Yeah, yeah, I know."
He smirked briefly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He ruffled it a bit and then set his helmet down.
"Anything else to tell me?" I asked, scratching the back of my head.
"Ei!"
Nick sighed and dug his hand in his leather jacket's pocket, throwing up some clanky shiny metal thing into the air, angling in midair. Behind him, another rider spun sharply around, his knee barely touching the ground. His jet-black hair tossed as he pushed himself upright, his arm shooting out and grabbing the set of keys Nick tossed up. The impassive mask on his face remained, and briefly, he and Nick shared a glance, some sort of glint in their eyes, before the rider sped off, using one hand to navigate the motorcycle as his other pocketed the keys.
I sighed. That jet-black hair was creepy sometimes, and even creepier was how those two could actually communicate without actually communicating. I think. Nick talks though, just not in an amount ordinary. It's his brother, Mr. One-Word-Per-Week, who doesn't talk period. It's rare for him, even for us, sometimes even for Nick. And yet, as I look behind me, he's practically an idol here.
Damn, without even talking.
That Fang…
"Sorry," Nick spoke, turning his attention back to us. "We're all going to meet up at the School Tree, Jack needs us all to go to his sho—crib." He nodded at Gazzy and Mike, distracting them from their apparent stare down with the motorcycle.
"Huh, okay," I answered. "D'you know why?"
He shook his head. "He was too troubled. Don't know why, either."
In the corner of my eye, I saw Gazzy grin. "Something's up," he said.
I felt myself grinning as well, another mischievous look possibly shrouding my features. Even Mike had the look on, and he barely gets excited. Nick stared at us, looking part bored, annoyed, and bemused.
"You guys just never let up, do you?" he said, shaking his head. "Gonna cause trouble again, huh?"
"Count on that," Gazzy answered, grinning still.
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Max's POV-
I think I'm gonna die.
…
No seriously, I think I'm gonna die.
…
The world froze over, and everything's just plain impossible.
I'm sure of it.
"Max? Ma-a-x? You still in there?"
Vaguely, I took notice of the hand swaying over my face, up and down, in this really annoying way. It barely registered to me that it was a really annoying gesture and that I was supposed to tell Angel to stop doing it.
But I couldn't.
'Cause the world froze over.
"Max, snap out of it!"
I couldn't, of course.
'Cause the world froze over.
"Um. Max? You okay? What do you mean, the world froze over? You're kind of freaking me out here."
I bit my lip. Was I saying that out loud?
"Max. Come on, we're gonna be late. And you do not wanna be late on your first day in school. Not if you wanna keep your sanity. Max!"
"Sorry. I'm good." I was better than good. I was great.
No, even better than great. I was amazing. Ha.
Unfortunately, Angel wasn't fooled. It's going to be a pain, having a family member that actually notices things. I was going to have to take greater care controlling the expression of my face. I just usually put on the casual indifference whenever I feel a violent blush about to erupt, but it looks like Angel could just see right past that.
"Come on, Max, we have to go," she said, yanking me by the arm. She threw a concerned glance at me over her shoulder now and again, to check that I was still sane, I suppose. I dragged my feet along, unable to snap out of my momentary daze. Numbly, I felt my feet follow her up a flight of stairs and across a long corridor that just never seemed to end. All I could pay the least bit of attention to was my heart—which was just about this close to going kablooey; it sounded like a ticking time bomb about to go off in no less than a minute—and my hand, currently being used to forcibly drag me to my next class. Whatever my next class was; I hadn't spared my schedule a single glance. Not when they arrived.
"Hey, Max, we're here," Angel said, breaking me out of trance. I shook my head to clear the haze.
We were standing in front of a brightly lit classroom, with the words English Literature printed in great, bold colors on the door. The sight of the big, friendly letters made my stomach churn (now, the butterflies in my tummy were a completely different kind); English Lit wasn't really my strong point. I wasn't much of a book person. I preferred activities that were more hands-on, like skydiving, or maybe bungee jumping. Having to read about other people doing it while stuck in some dingy classroom on the ground didn't look very prospecting.
It was obvious that had we arrived a few minutes later, we would have been late; the classroom was already teeming with teenagers all psyched up for second sem. My eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar, particularly gorgeous face. No, none of them were here. Not a single one. That was good, I guess. It would give me a chance to clear my head.
"Good luck, Max!" Angel hollered, already halfway across the corridor. How fast does that girl run? "I'll pick you up after class and give you the tour!"
I stepped into the blinding light, my hand curled instinctively over the strap of my bag, ready to face whatever the people here dish out. And believe me, from certain past experiences, high school people dish out a hell of a lot.
It was deafening; it was like being in a room full of banana-crazed monkeys, only instead of monkeys, you had high school teenagers, fresh from vacation, every teacher's worst nightmare, and instead of bananas, you had steaming gossip straight from the morning pot.
Unfortunately, there was only one seat left in the entire room. It sat in the corner, next to the open window, a seat that was obviously avoided by most of the students, if at all possible. I could almost see the dust bunnies from here. Exactly why, I wasn't sure. But something told me I didn't want to find out. I guess I would have to see for myself.
Hesitantly, I set my bag on the floor and pulled out my notebook, just so I could have something to do. As I dragged my pen mindlessly across the notebook paper, I decided I really didn't like this chair. It was kind of choking, in a way; the table pressed into me in a way that wasn't very pleasant, and I had very little room to move. My wings, concealed underneath a bulky jacket, were being trapped uncomfortably against the back of the chair. To me, it felt like one of those chairs in prison, when they interrogate you about the people you murdered and stuff; I half expected shackles to pop up out of nowhere and wrap around my wrists and ankles. Obviously they didn't think of part-bird claustrophobics when they were shopping for school property.
While I waited for the teacher to come and attempt to quiet down this mob of a crowd, I kept my head low and stared at the window. It was a gorgeous day outside, completely at odds with the rainstorm raging in my head. The sun was shining brightly, uncovered by a patch of fluffy clouds. A towering tree swayed lightly in the breeze, its branches scraping against the glass with a soft screechy kind of noise. It was like life was rubbing its happiness in my face, knowing full well that I was pretty much anything but happy right now.
I shook out my hair and let it fall in front of my face, a curtain to hide behind in case anybody tried to come and talk to me. It was best to keep a low profile, at least on the first day.
"Hey, there!" said a cheery voice from beside me. Ugh. Yeah, I could hope she wasn't talking to me, but then since when had fate dealt me the easy hand? I tried to ignore her, hoping that the girl would just get the message and back off, but that didn't seem to make any sort of difference.
"You're new, right? I saw you hanging out with Angel. Aren't you her new sister?"
Oh, great. I've been a topic of discussion before. This'll make life just that much more bearable.
"I'm Natalie. Natt, if you want. I can show you around after class, if you'd like. There's a lotta stuff you gotta know if you want to survive high school here. What's your name?"
I don't know if I did it because I didn't want to be rude of just because it had the possibility of shutting her up, but I swung my hair back behind my ear and grinned tentatively at her. "I'm Max."
Natalie grinned back. She seems like the kind of person who'd grin at anything that responded. "Cool name. Short and simple. My parents named me Natalie, and that's fine with me. At least they didn't name me something old and nauseating that sounds like a horrible disease, like Agnes or Georgina. I feel really sorry for whoever had parents that were weird enough to name their little girl Georgina."
All through her little rant, I nodded mindlessly. Of all the people I could get stuck with as a seatmate, I get the school motormouth. Could be the country motormouth, the way she talked.
"Hey, cool jacket!" she said all of a sudden, gently tugging on my hood. "Where'd you get it?"
"It was a gift," I mumbled, watching her eyes as they widened wider than saucers.
I waited for a moment, as she ogled fixedly at my jacket.
"I—I think you got a feather stuck on the hem of your—" she said, breaking off with a gasp as she pointed at something I couldn't see. Instinctively, I pushed my legs against the chair in front of me and slammed my back against the chair, pinning my wings down. Hurt like hell, yes—the bones in bird wings are considerably more sensitive than human ones—but at least I wouldn't be labeled the class bird freak for the rest of my life.
"Oh, that's just my keychain," I ground out from between gritted teeth. Keychain? What the heck? "Got it in Idaho a few years back. Land of the potatoes and all…"
"Ah," Natalie squeaked out, still looking kind of freaked. Had she seen them? Fantastic. My first day here and already, I was the class freak. If only there was a way to get her to keep her mouth shut about this…I had nothing to bargain her with, and it wasn't likely that a teenage female freshman with a piehole that freaking ginormous would be able to keep this under wraps for much longer. I could see the headlines in the next school e-newsletter: "New Student Slaps Wings on Back, Thinks She Can Fly."
Actually, that headline would be much better compared to: "What Do They Teach in Arizona? New Student a Genetic Mutation: Half Girl, Half Birdy". Either way, things weren't looking up for the bird-kid.
I know I was being way over paranoid. But what could I do? I was a freak. And freaks did what they did to stay alive. They dyed their hair aquamarine, had extensive surgery and set out on a new life under the name 'Poncho', who now sells bootleg El Pollo Loco merchandise. They grew inappropriate facial hair, learned to swallow oversized butcher's knives and joined a traveling circus. That's what freaks do. But then freaks like me, who try to have as much of a normal life as we could under the circumstances, we had to watch our backs. Particularly me, since the damning evidence was kind of jutting out of it. If we didn't want to end up living with Poncho in his rundown old shack in 34th street, then we had to be painfully scrupulous.
And I do mean painfully scrupulous.
As I mentally calculated my chances of fleeing the country before nightfall—which was slim, to be perfectly honest—a big, very burly shadow blocked out the fluorescent light.
"Hello, ladies," the figure said, in a tone I believe was meant to be smooth.
At the sound of the rough voice, Natalie's eyes turned a shade darker. She looked kind of scary when she was mad. Her expression flitted from startled to irritated in a heartbeat as she threw her hair over her shoulder in an expertly girlish way and glared violently at the newcomer. "Get lost, Ari. Now."
Ari didn't seem to be paying attention to her. That was mostly because he was eyeing me with great interest. "Well, who's this pretty little lady?"
"Move, Ari," Natalie growled. I didn't need any hints to see this guy was a disgusting pig that I should avoid at all costs. I kept my head down to hide my annoyed expression and picked my pencil up, but before I could start tuning him out, the pig actually grabbed my wrist and grinned. At me. Standing there, while my hand was clenched around a potentially dangerous and fatal weapon, grinning. I did not like being grinned at. Nor did I like being manhandled, so this guy's really got one thing coming.
He should've let go, once he saw my face. But he was stupid. Of course.
"Look, pal," I snarled, finally reaching the end of my rope. Not that the rope had been very long to begin with. I wrenched my hand from his grip and waved it in front of his face. "You see this? When this hand turns into a rock-hard fist, people have a tendency to run away screaming like hell. Now, if you want to be able to come out of this classroom with your nose the way it is right now, bones and skin and all, then I suggest you do the same, before I get tempted to bash your head through a wall."
This reasonably short conversation had brought the entire class into stunned silence. Nobody stood up to Ari. Not if you wanted to live, anyway. It was common knowledge, as I was to be told later on that day by an awed Angel, who almost didn't believe Natalie when she told her the story. Not because she didn't think I was brave enough to face him off, but because Ari hadn't tried to beat me up. I was the first one to actually threaten him and keep all of my teeth. Ari's grin faded, but just a bit. Obviously, for this dude to learn a lesson, you had to stamp it on his brain with a mallet. Using my techniques, it leaves a little mark, usually in the form of a painful, black-and-blue bruise.
"Gutsy words for a female," he said, unperturbed. "That's okay. I like my girls feisty."
"Oh, I'm feisty, all right. You'll get a real kick out of me. If things go bad for you, a kick won't be the only thing you'll be crying home to Daddy with."
Ari's grin turned into a grim line. Hit a nerve, did I? The little boy has Daddy issues. "Listen, missy, you're new around here, so I'm going to let this slide. Just this once. But nobody…and I mean nobody talks to Ari like that."
"Well, call me nobody," I said, cracking my knuckles, "because I think I just did."
Apparently, this underdeveloped Neanderthal really didn't get this kind of reaction from people, because he growled at me. He actually growled. It sounded like a wolf with a bad head cold. It must have been the masochist in me talking, but this was kind of fun.
"You're lucky I have a rule against pounding girly girls," he barked, trying to stop his hands from shaking. I'm fairly surprised the guy didn't have a twitch in his eye. He was obviously one unstable jerk. As I waited for him to come up with a more acceptable comeback, since the last one wasn't even worth the witty retort that sat waiting on my lips, I noticed the teacher, standing in the doorway, staring at Ari with a knowing expression. Obviously, this wasn't a rare episode in her class. Her well-trained teacher's hawk-eyes (no pun intended) panned the room, taking note of the students, who were abnormally silent, until her gaze landed on me, and my clearly defensive position. Like a lion bracing for an attack.
"What's going on here?" she asked. Her voice seemed to shake the class out of their incredulous stupor, and soon the buzz of hushed whispers about the plucky new girl drowned out the most of the sound of Ari's growling. The teacher headed straight for her desk, throwing Ari and me a stern warning look as she pulled out her notes, but Ari remained where he was, crouched over my seat with a manic look in his eyes.
"We're not finished yet," Ari said, lowering his voice so that the teacher won't hear. "I have a few things to settle with you."
He opened his mouth, probably to let out a string of fluent curses, which was how most members of the male species would respond when bested by a girl (believe me, I would know), but before he could get any sound out, a hand gripped his shoulder and rather violently pulled him back.
"Leave her alone, Ari," said a voice. Deep and mysterious. Or trying to sound like it, at any rate. I folded my arms across my chest. If this was another moron who thought he could be a knight in shining armor by saving the supposed damsel in distress from the first moron that tried, then I was going to have to break some hearts. You know, if he wasn't so sexist to think I couldn't handle this myself, I would've felt sorry for the poor guy. Ari looks like he's about to snap, or at least very eager to snap someone's neck in half.
Ari's head snapped back to look at the offending owner of said hand, but then whipped it right around to look at me. For a moment, he struggled to find the right parting words, and after about three seconds he settled for a very uncontrolled growl and the ugliest glare I have ever seen.
"I'm watching," he mouthed, unable to make a sound, before ripping his hands away from my table. The students, even in their seats, somehow managed to give him a wide berth as he stomped very childishly across the room to his seat next to the door. As soon as they were clear, they turned around to gape at me in astonishment, most likely contemplating on whether or not I was as crazy as I looked.
"Watch all you want, pup," I muttered, when he was out of earshot. I looked up to thank whoever it was that came to my aid— even though I didn't need the help, but I didn't need to turn away the people who actually had the prospect of being nice. "Hey, thanks for the…uh…"
I let my voice trail away, as I stared at his face. His way gorgeous face, just FYI. There were a lot more things to stare at, once you look at it. His dark hair, flopping in front of his face in the most beautiful way. His pitch-black leather jacket. His deep, dark, mysterious eyes, completely devoid of emotion, and yet somehow so piercing and intense.
My god. Did I just say that?
Not out loud, no.
Hopefully not.
Did I just think that?
Damn hormones.
How was I supposed to be able to go out in public now if I eyeball every hot guy I stumble across?
Not that I think he's hot or anything…
Oh, who the hell am I kidding? He's beautiful.
If I would have been able to form any coherent thoughts, I probably could have guessed who he is. About two seconds have passed, and I was still staring (in an embarrassingly fixed way) at his face. By my standards, that was a pretty long time to be staring at any single face, particularly one of the opposite gender. Reluctantly, I tore my gaze away from his and determinedly kept my eyes fixed on the wood of my table—which was mind-numbingly boring in comparison to what I had been staring at just a few seconds ago—trying to fight the blush that was clawing its way up into my cheeks. Among many things, I did not blush.
"I mean—thanks for…for that. The thing with Ari."
Pathetic. I was able to stare that pig, Ari down—apparently breaking world records in the process, such as being the first person to walk away with facial features intact—but I can't even force myself to talk straight to one guy I didn't even know.
"No problem." With that as his parting words, he glided towards the front of his class and took his seat, leaving me speechless, something that didn't happen often. Sure, I didn't socialize much, but I had words ready when people tried to talk to me. This guy just…left me hanging there. Like an idiot. A landmark moment for me. Hmm.
"Who was that?" I asked Natalie, once I managed to snap out of it. Which was about seven and a half seconds later.
"What, Angel didn't tell you?" Natalie said, throwing a sly glance at the boy from the corner of her eye. "I'm surprised. You're telling me she hasn't even discussed the current hottie list with you?"
"No, no, she did. Most of them, anyway. I haven't met the top of the list yet."
Natalie started giggling hysterically, earning her a nasty look from the teacher. She waited a while, just until the teacher plunged back into her so-called lecture, before whispering conspiratorially, "Well, Max, I think you just did."
I dug around in my head, trying to remember what the guy's name was. "Fang?"
Natalie nodded, letting out a dreamy sigh as she gazed at the back of his head. "The one and only."
Now that I got a real look at him—or at least, the back of him—his name makes sense. Very fitting, somehow. The name Fang did justice to the all-black ensemble, the mysterious aura he unquestionably gave off, and the absorbing mystery his eyes presented. And the way he was staring at me…it was chilling, unnerving in a way, the kind that sent goosebumps rolling up my spine. The good kind of goosebumps, though. I had a gut feeling that this guy was the kind of guy who could get pretty scary. When he wants to, anyway.
"Sorry about Ari, by the way," Natalie said. I nodded absentmindedly, my head still somewhere up in the sky. Or maybe, if I was being honest, drifting somewhere towards the front of the classroom, where a certain somebody with a certain leather jacket was busy not paying attention (like I was). "I swear, that dude is seven years old. The guy's a real jerk. Not that you didn't notice. I've never seen anyone actually stand up to him like that. Bravo. And on your first day, too."
I grinned. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly a pushover back in my old school."
"Good to know," Natalie laughed, and then we both shut up, because the teacher was marching down the aisle, and she didn't look all that happy.
Class went by in a daze. Whenever the teacher to the blackboard, Ari would twist in his seat and content himself with shooting me the crabbiest glares his limited facial muscles could afford. Natalie—either oblivious to Ari or steadfastly pretending to be—spent the hour naming each and every one of our classmates, listing the many reasons why I should or should not attempt to socialize with them. Needless to say, Natalie was evidently the school gossip, and with very good reason.
I had Spanish right after. In a stroke of luck, Natalie had Spanish too—I say luck because I still don't know her well enough to decide between good or bad—so she escorted me to my class, where we steamrolled through pretty much the same routine.
For those who may or may not be wondering whether any of them were there…
They weren't. Not a one. Even Fang was nowhere in sight.
So now I had nothing to distract me from Natalie, who was yammering away in true motormouth fashion about something that sped by too fast for me to understand. I prayed fervently that I didn't have Natalie in every single one of my classes. Not because I was a loner, and planned on turning down one of the few prospective friends I had, but because I shudder to think of the state my grades will be by the end of the semester if I have to listen to the hour-long rants that made up most of the first two classes of my day.
Angel was waiting for me outside the door, as promised.
"Hey, Max!" she greeted, when I wrenched myself free of the traffic congestion by the door. "How was your first class of the day?"
"Eventful," I admitted, throwing a sheepish grin in Natalie's direction. Eventful was the only word for it.
"…and then there was that time that she bit Melanie Harper on the arm, so I suggest you return anything you borrow from her, like, the day after. Especially lip gloss. She's a real lion when someone loses her lip gloss. Or, you know, you could just not borrow anything from her. At all. You know, just for your own safety."
"Ashley Capri?" Angel whispered knowingly.
"Who else?" Natalie muttered, taking us by the arm and marching us towards the staircase.
"So, Max," Angel said. "You've met Nu—"
Before she could get the word out, Natalie cupped a hand around her mouth.
"Angel," she whined, "you promised!"
"Oh, yeah," Angel said, grinning. "Don't worry, I won't tell."
"What won't you tell?" I asked. Despite the fact that I was not a gossip, I was slightly intrigued.
"Nothing," Angel said, pushing Natalie's arm away. "As I was saying, you've met Natalie. I suppose she's going to help with the…uh, the tour."
"To add in a few bonus features," Natalie added, and burst into another fit of giggles. They way her eyes kept scrunching up left little doubt as to what she meant by bonus features.
Fearless enough as I was to cheerfully threaten Jerk-Boy over there (who just winked at me in an 'I'm going to eat you for breakfast and then spit you out' sort of way), there was really nothing I could've done to stop Angel and Natalie from forcibly dragging me by the wrists. As they walked around the courtyard, with little old me in tow, it became clear that they weren't just anybody around these parts. They were Queen Bees. Maybe not Queen Bees, then. Princess Bees. They buzzed around here and there, smiling at most everyone, getting everyone to smile back, a feat that would have been considered miraculous back where I came from. They even got one of the emos to give up a weak smile while he sat under the shade of a tree, writing depressing poetry and trying to hack away his arm with a pencil.
Everybody knew who they were, but what was worse was that everybody knew who I was. The new student. It's true, there really is nothing that travels faster than gossip, and news of me almost beating Ari to a bloody pulp spread quickly throughout the vast social network. My goodness, if we could harness gossip into energy, we'd never have to worry about an oil crisis ever again. Class had ended barely ten minutes ago, and already I had cheerleaders eyeing me in shrewd speculation. As shrewd as their blonde little egotistic brains can manage, anyways. The jocks on the benches—with Ari in their burly midst—stared at me in disbelief, unable to comprehend that a chick like me had the stomach to even raise a finger to a dude like Ari. When we passed by the library, a group of bespectacled…nerds (I'm not being insulting, that's really just the best way to describe them) gazed at me worshipfully—I think—as if I was the answer to their prayers. Taking into consideration their slightly beat-up look, and the fact that they stuck together like glue for their own safety, it wasn't that hard to guess what kind of prayers they were sending up.
To be perfectly honest, as I was none-too-gently lugged around, my eyes panned the grounds for them. I mean them. The…well, the guys. There, I said it. A teeny part of me—fine, since I'm doing the honesty bit, a great big part of me—was eager to see them again. I don't really know why, since this new side of me isn't courteous enough to explain itself, but I was eager all the same.
Yeah, okay.
"That's it, basically," Natalie concluded, spreading her arms with a flourish as we found ourselves back in the courtyard after a full-length field trip of the campus. "The school in a nutshell."
"You call that a nutshell?" I panted. "Then that's one gigantic nut."
Let me tell you, being hauled around a school by two overenthusiastic teenagers really takes it out of you.
"Hey, Max, what time is it?" Angel asked suddenly. I glanced at my wristwatch.
"Um…twelve thirty. Why?"
"Where d'you think they are?" she asked Natalie. By this time, the courtyard was pretty deserted; a few people wandered around in a dreamy stupor, looking like they had not a care in the world. We were sitting on a bench underneath a tree, letting our feet take a rest. I rubbed my wrists, like they do in the movies after the cops snap the shackles off the people they realized were innocent.
"I don't know, but they gotta be around here somewhere," Natalie said.
Right on cue, a familiar looking someone stumbled into the courtyard just then, his blond hair a messy mop on top of his head. Trailing him were the other two, looking slightly disheveled as the dusted ash off of their jeans. I would have been confused as to what they could possibly be doing here in the school that involved ash, but then I caught the overwhelming aroma of gunpowder and recalled the big explosion from this morning. I tried not to look overly…well, overly awkward.
"There you are!" Angel yelled, running forward to smack the blond guy on the head. "You're late."
"Sorry, Ange," he grinned, straightening up. "Ig made a slight miscalculation on the wiring. Pretty big boom today. You'd think three and a half millimeters of chicken wire on the C4 wouldn't make that much of a difference, but no…"
Natalie sighed. "Why am I not surprised?"
"Gazzy, Iggy, Mike," Angel called. "Meet Max. My new sister."
The three guys turned in my direction, just noticing that I was standing there. I felt myself clam up, the hair standing on the back of my head.
Bird kid's intuition. The most reliable thing in the world since melting butter and Magic 8 balls.
"Uh…hi," I said. Brilliant. That was me. Miss Quick Wit.
"Hello there," the blond one greeted.
"We met this morning," he prompted, and somehow, I was able to smile meekly in response.
"Oh, yeah. Hey." My goodness, was I turning speechless? And on top of that, the blush I had banished to hell had come back to haunt me. I could feel it burning my face. I did not blush. How many times did I have to clear that up? I did not blush.
"I'm Iggy," said the tall, pale guy from this morning, lumbering forward to reach out a shy hand. "This dude over here is Mike, the resident computer genius."
As I shook Iggy's hand—trying not to stare in honest curiosity at his one…not good eye—Mike nodded gruffly in my general direction without meeting my gaze. He fiddled silently with his watch and hung back as the other two stepped forward with huge grins spreading across their faces and made small talk with the girls.
"Where's Nick?" Angel asked.
Iggy shrugged. "Probably with that brother of his. We better hurry, guys, the teachers are pretty wound up today. We should go if we don't wanna get caught."
"Where are we going?" I whispered to Angel, as Gazzy took Natalie by the hand and started leading us out of the courtyard. I folded my arms across my chest; I had no intention of letting people drag me again. My arms weren't quite strong enough not to pop in their sockets for that. "Aren't we heading back for class?"
Angel, even now, looked so innocently angelic. Even though her words definitely sounded otherwise. "We're skipping."
I felt my eyebrows shoot up. Angel, the…well, the perfect little angel, skipping? I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. "Really? You do that?"
She shrugged noncommittally as we followed the rest of them into a deserted building. "Well, it's only study hall, you know. No attendance checks, no teachers. They don't really care what we do during then. It's just a chance for the students to catch up on homework. Me and…Natalie find it more productive to…let's say frolic outside in the fresh air rather than rot in the hall with nothing to do."
"Uh. Okay. Where are we going, then? Someplace the teachers won't see us, I suppose?"
Iggy suddenly looked over his shoulder to grin at me, and I found myself grinning right back. I was on a roll. "Are you afraid of heights?"
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Iggy's POV-
I bounded up the steps two at a time, eager to get out of this cramped stairwell. Claustrophobia came with the whole bird-freak package. In here, the air was thin and stale, and the walls felt like they were closing in. My wings ached to be released, pressed as they were into my jacket, but they'd have to stay put for today. Today, we had a newbie, so to speak, and she probably wouldn't take the whole I-am-part-bird thing lightly. Not a lot of people did.
"So…" I said, slowing down to keep pace with the girls. One girl in particular. "are you afraid of heights?"
Max grinned. "Definitely not."
"Good. Where we're going is pretty high up."
"Just out of curiosity, where are we going?"
"Um…the rooftop." Another little feature that came boxed in with the wings was the fondness for height. I mean, yeah, the ground was fine, sturdy and…full of dirt, but being part bird and all, the sky felt safe and comforting. A protective haven. It just felt natural to be up. Here in school, I obviously couldn't fly—neither can Gazzy—so we settle for the next best thing. Even if the next best thing was technically out of bounds.
Ha. Like that ever stopped us before.
"We always go up here when it isn't raining," Angel explained. "Since it's pretty high up, it's always breezy, and we all kind of like the height."
I pursed my lips and tried not to look excessively shifty. Sometimes, that girl freaks me out. It's like she knows.
Once we got to the top of the stairs, Gazzy threw himself across the door before Natalie could reach out and open it like she always did. He does this every time it's somebody's first trip to the rooftop. He tends to be a bit theatrical when the chance presents itself. Today, we had a very special guest, and I knew he would try to make his presentation more overdramatic than usual. Especially for a girl that…pretty. Let's just call her pretty.
"I must warn you," he said, in a fake ominous kind of way, eyeing Max with a challenging grin. "This place is not for the faint of heart."
Natalie snorted. "Just get on with it, Gaz. You can be your normal drama queen self later."
Gazzy grimaced, and I knew he was sorely resisting the impulse to stick his tongue out like a five year old. "Come on, how many times do I get to do this?"
"Just open the freaking door. It's getting steamy in here."
He sighed, fingering the doorknob. "Some people have no appreciation for presentation."
"Speak for yourself, pig. Try laying off the gunpowder once in a while. Dusty black is so last season."
With considerably less enthusiasm, Gazzy threw the door open, letting a gusty breeze sweep through the stairwell. In a flat monotone voice, he continued, "Beware of falling over the edge, yadi yadi yada, you might even get to see a bird, blahdi blah…and welcome to the rooftop." He sent a pained look at Natalie. "You've completely taken all the fun out of that."
"That's my job, Gaz," she said, smirking brightly in reply.
"Whoa," I heard Max gasp, and felt myself smile.
Okay, so the rooftop in itself was nothing special. Heavily in need of a paint job, the walls were fading gray and the floor was stained with streams of dried acid rain. A chunky exhaust pipe poked out of the ground, rusted with age. The smell wasn't all that amazing, either. Somewhere between dead cat and old janitor overalls. Not that bad once you get used to it, but mixed with Gazzy's…well, unfortunate occurrences, let's just say it doesn't exactly bode well for people with a heightened sense of smell.
But all of it was worth enduring for the view. Scenic was somewhat of an understatement. I'm half-blind, you know, so I guess material beauty doesn't impress me as much as the next guy (which is a perfect lie, by the way), but damn, it was breathtaking. This place was high enough to for you to see the entire forest, the fringe of mountain that inched towards the sky, the sun piercing through the fluffy clouds overhead. Our school was built on a shallow, rocky crag that sat on the borders of an army of Redwoods, the tallest trees in the world. The high grounds, the right timing and the oil painting-worthy scenery made for one hell of a photo shoot.
Today was not an exception. The sky was the most perfect shade of blue, and there were hardly any clouds in the sky. The wind was just right, not too light, but not strong enough to launch my wiry, winged person off the building. Perfect flying conditions, if I do say so myself. I felt my wings start to throb again. How long has it been since I was able to let them out?
But my good eye wasn't staring at the sky. No, not today; today, it had a new object of attra—attention, something completely different. Or, to be completely accurate, someone. Someone with blonde hair and an expression that was pleasantly awed.
"It's beautiful," Max whispered, staring at the sky with rapt bliss.
"It is, isn't it?" Angel said, sighing contentedly.
I leaned over the railing to survey the chaos that was usually mid-morning study hall. It was only when I stuck my head over the edge that I noticed a dark, shady figure, perched on the thin ledge sticking out of the wall, brooding a la superhero. You know, like the way Spidey or maybe Batman would crouch on a high ledge overlooking Gotham or Metropolis or something, with that odd 'I'm big and strong, and I save this city' face. It's in every freaking movie (you gotta wonder why they start posing oh so inconspicuously on top of a towering skyscraper in front of the whole world). The only difference between this scene and a classic Batman situation was that a.) it was broad daylight; b.) this guy was not wearing his underwear outside his tights (oh so macho); and c.) this dude's name was Fang.
"Uh…hey, Fang," I said.
It was all I could think of. It didn't matter, really. The guy didn't turn his head to look at me. He didn't say hello, or any sort of motion that indicated otherwise. He didn't even blink. Not that I expected any sort of perceptible response in the first place. What exactly do you expect from a freaking statue?
"Oh, hi, Fang," Angel greeted brightly, bouncing over to him in that ballerina way of hers. "Have you met my sister, Max?"
I look over to him, and get this…Fang—the emotionless, distant, non-caring Fang—actually turned. Around. To look at Max.
And then, just when I thought things couldn't get any freakier, he grins. At Max. An actual person.
"We've met," he says, and then returns to his passive crouch, still grinning. Slightly. But slightly means a whole lot in my book. Especially when it comes to a dude like Fang.
The two words he uttered brought us to complete silence. Which was pretty unbelievable in itself, since we as a group were not considered the quietest little maniacs in the school. Finding Natalie's mute button was especially difficult, and Gazzy was the kind of kid that doesn't shut up unless his mouth was stuffed with chow. But the guy says two short, almost insignificant words and renders us speechless in shock. Even Mike didn't bother with his usual cynical comment.
That just goes to show how often you hear actual, audible sounds coming out of the dude's mouth.
Wow. This girl really must be something. She actually got Fang to talk. Fang. I mean…wow.
"Okay," Angel said, trying to snap us out of our trance. "Whoa, Max, you're famous!"
"Hooray," Max murmured, not altogether convincing. She shrank against the door, looking kind of uncomfortable.
"So, seriously, you're not freaked or anything?" Gazzy asked her, leaning against the railing. "You know, about how high up we are?"
"No," she admitted, smiling at the sky. "There's really nothing to be freaked about. I like height, actually. It feels natural for me."
Gazzy and I shared a meaningful look. There weren't a lot of people who felt natural being this high, and they were either professional skydivers or freaky-deaky human guinea pigs with wings soldered on to their backs. I wondered which category she fell into, and Gazzy was obviously wondering the same thing.
"You don't teach paragliding or something, do you?" he asked, actual concern in his eyes. "Or do stunt work for air force movies or crazy stuff like that?"
"I don't think so," Max laughed, going red, clearly not intending to have gushed out that much. She folded herself onto the ground and stared up at the sky, letting the sun warm her face.
"You got some spine, then," Gaz grinned. "The first time we dragged Mike up here, he went all pale and threatened to remote-detonate the pipe bomb we hid in the principal's office if we didn't let him go."
"Hey!" Mike yelled from his corner, his hand shooting out to smack Gazzy upside the head. He gets kind of awkward around people who don't expressly know him. Sometimes girls. Wait, no, especially girls. "That was only because you had my laptop dangling a hundred feet from the ground!"
"Yup. Just keep telling yourself that, chicken."
"Yeah, right, birdie," Mike retorted. Again, I winced. Sometimes you just never know how far people can get close to you. It's like he knows, that Mike. But then again, he is resident super genius technician guy. It won't be surprising to see him discovering Dodo birds living in a puddle of mud under the Roman Coliseum or something someday.
I'm serious. Dodo birds. That's a huge discovery.
While I contemplated the possibility of dumb luck being dumb enough to actually shove yet another bird-freak into our already messed up lives, a ringing voice reached my…enhanced hearing.
"Fire down below!"
A jolt ran up my spine, stopping my train of thought. The phrase 'fire down below' was never really a good thing for me. Or Gaz. Or Mike. Or anyone within a forty-meter radius of us. It's either a bomb's gonna blow up, something was about to fall off and hit someone upside a very sensitive part, or Gazzy's going to…well…uh, have an episode—or so to speak.
But unfortunately, this particular fire-down-below was in the form of a drizzle of bird poop.
BIRD POOP.
Yes, folks, what we're actually stepping on atop this roof are not paint getting really, really viscous, but a layer of bird poop! The roof gets a new coat every once in a while and you even have a posh smell to catch the attention of many noses unfortunate enough to come across it. Best part is, it is absolutely free! Colors vary depending on what pigeons and the like are eating these days, but there's no difference whatsoever! So just come on down to Ye Olde Roof to get a free coating of bird poop with matching stink, stick and a guaranteed crack in your reputation!
Oh the cruel irony. Ha ha.
"Ack!" Natalie exclaimed, jumping to her feet and barely missing a really weird multicolored bird poo.
"Ew..." Angel said, somehow already under a small ledge overlooking the entrance/exit.
"Aw ma-an!"
By the time gravity brought all mighty poop to the floor, our heads all swiveled around in Mike's direction. For some reason, the birds didn't really aim—unnecessary, I know—nor did the air bring any up to any face unfortunate enough to come across the poopy surprise. Which is good, really.
'Cept for Mike.
"Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But no-o-o, birds have to like shiny, mechanic laptops with state-of-the-art technology!" Mike ranted, shaking bird poop off the face of his laptop.
And Natalie.
"Yeah, and the stupid things have to target perfectly filed and polished nails that had nothing to do with their messed up digestive systems!" Natalie continued, taking out a brightly hem-lined handkerchief with a big blue blotch at one corner, dabbing her nail at it in a coquettish sort of way, an obvious blush on her cheeks.
"Ouch," Gazzy said, faking a hurt expression and clutching his chest with one hand.
Natalie stuck out her tongue at him, her complexion turning rosier. Thank goodness she has no idea how on-the-mark she was with that.
Before any more witty, sarcastic, and overly-clichéd or overly used comments and/or arguments could have sprung up from the already nasty comebacks, the bell rung, shrill and rattling, catching our attention immediately. Natalie huffed and pocketed her hankie, fuming as she collected her stuff and kicking at the bits of bird poop sticking out of the floor, mumbling her string of blabbers over and over again under her breath.
Everyone had already turned and bode a hearty farewell to the birds and their waste when Gazzy realized something—something that was very, very important.
"Uhh…are we missing someone?"
We all stared blankly at him for a few more seconds, before realizing that he was right.
And then, under her breath, in a short gasp, Angel spoke.
"Max!"
-\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/-
-Gazzy's POV-
"Max!" Nudge started screaming, in the loudest way she could manage while being careful not to step on any more poo. "MAX! WHERE ARE YOU?"
"Keep your voices down!" Iggy hissed. "The teachers'll hear you!"
He turned to me, and I could practically see the gears whirring in his head. "Did you see her go down?"
I scrunched up my eyes, feigning irritation. Something I do particularly well. "Well, if I'd seen her go down, then I wouldn't be asking if we'd forgotten anyone, now, would I?"
"Well, where could she have gone?"
"There's only one place," Angel muttered softly, her eyes trained on something nobody could see, at the same time a faint, almost inaudible sound reached my ears. Boy, bird-kid hearing sure is handy in times like this.
"Do you hear that?" I cocked my head. Iggy nodded in my general direction and did the same. Like the guy even needed to strain his ears. With the bird-kid hearing, plus that weird heightened sense thing, I'm sure he could hear it clear as a bell.
"Hey! You guys!"
"Where's it coming from?" Natalie asked, looking around.
From behind us, Angel's breath hitched gently. Wordlessly, she loped to the rooftop's railing and leaned over the edge.
"Max!" she yelled, as if expecting the sky to answer.
And, much to my surprise…
…it actually did.
"Down here, you guys!"
I really should stop pretending anything was actually impossible.
We all ran to the railing and panned the campus. It took me a while to spot her, standing at the base of the building, half-hidden in the shade of the big oak tree. There was Max, safe and relatively whole, standing on the ground, looking puny as she looked up at us with the most unfathomable expression. She looked like an ant from here. An ant, not a kid who's got bird parts surgically added to their physical makeup. But how…?
"Max?" Natt yelled. "How'd you get all the way down there?"
Even from a distance, I could see the uncertainty flash on her face. "Um…well, I fell."
"You fell seven floors?"
She hesitated a bit before answering. "Well, uh…yeah. Sort of. I guess."
I shot Iggy a knowing look. It was possible. That Max was a bird-freak like us, I mean. Nothing was impossible anymore in our world. People can fly and evil scientists ruled the world. Iggy and I had superpowers—especially him, so to speak—and everybody kept deep, dark secrets. Who's to say that Max wasn't just another experiment?
Angel snorted, interrupting my mental debate. "It's seven floors, Max."
"Yeah," Mike said, obviously putting his big head to the test trying to figure it out. "Nobody could've survived a fall like that. What'd you do, fly down?"
I could see the thought that sped through Iggy's mind, because it was exactly the same thought that sped through mine.
She might as well have.
"You could say that," she said, looking sheepish. She spared a second to take a look around, and looked back up at us. "Uh, you guys, I think you better get down here. Now, I mean."
"Why?"
"'Cause if you don't," she yelled, "there's someone who's going to be waiting for you when you get here."
"What do you mean?" Natalie asked, ever clueless.
Beside me, I felt Iggy stiffen, and all of a sudden, his head shot down. Before anybody could ask what he was doing, lying down on the ground that had a very good chance of smearing bird poo on him, he took Mike and me by the wrists and pulled us down beside him.
"Keep quiet," he warned.
"What?" Mike hissed, cradling his laptop in his arms to protect it from any further harm. Iggy ignored him and reached for the girls, but his hands were a split second too late.
"Oh," Natalie murmured, as a shriek rent the air. No one needed any sort of super-hearing to have heard that. No one needed to look down to know that this was no skipping student, either. No, this was much worse. This was actual authority.
"Miss Batchelder!" the voice screamed. "You and your friend get down here this instant, or there'll be detention for a month! That rooftop is off-limits! What—"
"Ah," Mike said, shrinking against the safety of the railing. The No Gadgets in Detention rule meant no detention for Mike, at any cost. And so far, he'd only had one day of detention in his whole life. When he'd been let out, he hugged his laptop and didn't let it go for a week.
"Yeah," Iggy said. "Ah."
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Iggy's POV-
Noon, Later that Day…
Three…
Two…
One…
"You're late," I said, over the roar of the motorcycles that suddenly appeared around the corner. "We said three fifteen, dude."
The bikes zoomed across the gravel, sending stones flying out of the way, and skidded to a smooth halt two inches from my foot.
"I think your watch finally went boom, Ig," Nick muttered, cutting the engines and dismounting his ride in one fluid motion. His brother did the same, carefully perching his helmet on the handlebars. They looked so fitting here, leather jackets and sleek black rides, set against the not-too-shabby oil-stained front of Jack's workshop.
"Yeah, well, those bikes may be all that, but you sure ain't got the roads mapped. Shortcut's that way, Nick." I pointed out a narrow alleyway behind a broken-down fence. Recently broken down, I should say. You see, with pyros, a little gunpowder goes a long way. It had been a fairly simple matter for me to wrap a certain type of wire around the padlock, douse the hinges in a bit of liquid nitrogen, and light a match. Voila: instant shortcut, minimum mess.
Nick grinned, shoving his hand through his helmet hair. He eyed the gate in shrewd speculation. "Thanks. I'll try to remember that. Where's the Gasman?"
"Detention." I replied. "Natt and Angel already got caught, and on a burst of chivalry, he decided to fess up and accompany them."
He sniggered lightly, shaking his head. "Gazzy was always one for the theatrics."
"I'll say," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "And we had a new girl, so of course Gasser had to go all out today."
"Oh yeah, her," he murmured, more to himself. He tried to be sneaky, but I caught the glance he gave Fang.
Fang. I hadn't noticed he was there. It was like he'd been invisible.
"Where'd you go, man?" I asked him, as we walked across the parking lot toward the workshop. "We didn't see you go down. You were there on the rooftop lunch, right?"
His face was blank as he answered in the flat, kind of monotone voice that he never stopped using. "Away."
I nodded. It was more of a response than I expected. "Good enough. So what's Jack got for us today?"
"Didn't say," Nick said, as Fang trailed silently behind us like some creepy ghost. "Just told me to get the guys together for something big."
He took the sliding door by its handle and with a bit of effort, wrenched it aside, letting dim sunlight stream into the workshop.
"For a guy who owns a motor shop," Nick grunted, dusting rust off his hands, "he sure doesn't oil his hinges a lot." He peered into the darkness, and after a while, slowly began to back away.
"Uh…I think you guys should take a look at this."
"What?" I said, irritated. It's so easy to forget about someone and their loss of sight. "Can someone help the semi-blind guy, please? A few details?"
"Ig, I don't think you'll be needing any help with this one," Nick muttered absently, and shoved me in front of the door to let me see for myself.
It took a while for my mind to actually process what I was seeing.
"Oh," I said, taking in the gory-looking blood that was pretty much all over everything, and the eerily familiar looking corpse sitting in the middle of the workshop, twisted up in angles that a human body should not be twisted up in, more than one huge gaping hole..uh…gaping, so to speak, with one fairly small gaping hole atop his head. "Oh."
"Yeah," Nick agreed, his eyebrow hitching up within a fraction of a second. "Oh."
"This is bad."
"You think?"
I stepped forward, careful not to step on any puddles of blood (ick) and gently poked the dead body with as little force as possible. His head flopped forward, his dirty brown hair caked with red, his eyes wide with lightless horror.
"Uh…Jack?"
\\-bLudySplATonThuhFlo0r-/
-Author's Note-
Okay, first of all: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. For the record: SCHOOL SUCKS. Any sane teenager-slash-kid with a sense of justice and freedom could get that, for sure. Anyways, next chapter MIGHT, I repeat: MIGHT take a while. And in advance: SO SORRY! Most reviews will help me feel guilty and urge me into writing the next chapter, but it'll take a LOT. I'm doing a bunch of commission works for some people, and it TAKES TIME. I'll also update relatively soon on my other fic, just 'cause I'm feeling really guilty and annoyed—mostly at myself XD.
Thanks to my best friend for helping me with this chap! (BROWNIES DARN IT!!)
Anyways, thanks for reading! R&R!