Maha! I've finally come up with another chapter! See, this is why you love me. This time, I spent a long time on it, trying to make sure it was as good as I could get it. And yeah, I know you all wanna hurry up and get back to Blue or Fang and Max, but that's gonna have to wait. I'm currently re-reading the MaxRide series so that I can read the fourth one and know what the pickle they're talking about, so maybe my writing will improve. xD Maybe.

Humming to myself to sooth my frayed nerves, I squeezed my eyes shut once more, puckering my lips as if I had just shoved a handful of warheads into my mouth. I could tell I was freaking out the guy across from me, and as I peeked through one dark-lashed eye, I could see him quickly avert his gaze, eyes wide and knuckles white as he tightened his already vice-like grip on his dingy backpack.

Luckily, no other conscious person (By this I refer to people who weren't screaming into cell phones or dealing with rowdy children) was in close enough proximity to me to mind my odd behavior as I tried not to go insane with my anxiety. This bus was the last place I wanted to be, especially since it ran underground, and I have major claustrophobia. But my recent detection of danger had effectively dulled the obsessive frenzy I had flown into at the discovery of others like me.

It always has taken something this rattling to get my head on straight after a good freak-out. That says a load about my mental well-being, doesn't it?

After my chance discovery of white coats in the area, I had settled back into a comfortable (albeit paranoid) sanity. I had decided not to give them any more reason to be suspicious about my whereabouts. If I kept using false information for everything, and kept clamping my wings to my back, I would be reasonably safe.

So why was I jumpy now? And why was I humming, and pulling faces, and making hushed noises at regular intervals?

Something felt funny. In the pit of my stomach, I could feel something worming its way through me- something that shouldn't have been there. I gulped hard and opened my sleepless eyes to look around. The only thing out of the ordinary was the boy fidgeting in the seat across from mine. I sent him an exasperated glare, but he missed it.

I sat, wrestling with my worm, for the next hour and a half. I checked my watch constantly, jumping slightly whenever a phone rang, or when the old lady in the back gave a sharp hoot at her million-page novel. I ground my teeth, deciding to screw saving money and to go and buy myself a cheap little music player. Anything to stop this agony.

It was kind of ironic, actually, that when the bus pulled to a sharp stop and flung half of the ill-prepared passengers forward a foot, that I was one of the few to keep my head. Of course, moments later, when a man in a sun-bleached cream trench coat brushed past my shoulder, I let out an ear-splitting screech and bolted through the door. I seriously am insane, you know.

Contemplating whether to just skip the next bus and tough out the rest of my trip on foot, I plopped myself down on a smooth, apple-red bench with my map and a printout of my plan in hand. In a stroke of genius the last time I had been to a library, I had taken the time to type out my plan on Microsoft Word. I had been sensible enough to foresee myself freaking out and fleeing to a nice protected bank. As much as the idea appealed to me now, my rational side had known that I would need to stay on track, and how hard it would be.

Is it pathetic that my intelligence and sanity fluctuate like this?

As soon as I was free of this mess, I promised myself to look for professional help. I mean, spending hundreds of dollars to lay vulnerable on a rigid couch and lying by omission to keep him from contacting the authorities wasn't my best option, but… it was an idea I ought to hold on to.

I scrutinized the plan, now sort of sad that I hadn't written down the names of any really good doctors, and ran my eyes down the page. I had written it in a made-up code so that people wouldn't read it over my shoulder, but I myself had a bit of trouble for a few minutes, trying to tell my coded 'e's from my 'k's.

The first thing on my agenda was to make it to Arizona. Now, I knew little about the race of people like me, but it seemed that there had been several sightings of bird-people around that general area. I decided that maybe spending a couple of weeks there was all I could dare to hope for, seeing as those dangerous-looking male models would probably be chasing me.

I scoffed lightly at the idea. What were those guys doing with the white-coats? I mean, male models? I had never understood what they had to do with the School. Were they specialists in some kind of capture, or torture or something?

Now that I thought about it, I had seen a few of the incredibly graceful men wandering around the School when I was younger. Whenever they saw my brother and I, they would grin a menacingly gorgeous grin at my brother and me before murmuring something that I hadn't understood at the time. I still didn't get it entirely, but I was sure that it meant something.

I think it was something like: Wait till your dad sees this.