Chapter 4
Shoving my way out of my hole, I climbed through the window. Looking up, I saw the sun break the horizon line. This meant the Flock would be waking up soon. Dive-bombing off the roof I poured on my skill and flew like the wind. Faster, actually.
Flying through the canyon at lightning speed I felt something lightly brush my head. Looking up I saw the, wait, laptop flying at me? It hit me in the stomach and I grabbed it. So much for getting rid of it. But the more I thought about its uses, the more I realized what a valuable hunk-of-junk I had almost destroyed.
Flying up to my window I pulled my wings in at the last second and landed with a small tap on the floor.
Stashing the cyber hunk of doom under my bed, I ran my fingers lightly over my tangled hair. My hand got stuck, and I ripped it out. I really needed a hairbrush soon.
Pulling off the sweatshirt and throwing it on my bed, I walked across the hall to wash up. Thunks downstairs told me the Flock and Dylan were up, possibly eating without me. No, not possibly, most likely.
Closing the door I turned and was almost shocked at my appearance. Tears streaked my face, as well as scraps of black soot and garbage. Eew.
Washing my face, I grabbed a hand towel and scrubbed my face dry. Looking at my shiny and now slightly red face, I was a bit more satisfied with my look.
Walking downstairs I turned into the kitchen.
The Flock sat there eating, Iggy still frying something yummy smelling in the frying pan.
Hearing my footsteps Iggy dumped the substance on what I guessed was my plate and Held it out to me.
Grabbing it quickly I walked over to the table, famished from my fly.
Iggy followed, turning off the oven before he sat down beside me.
Digging into my food I looked at all that was on my plate. Cinnamon rolls, about twenty, half covered in regular icing and the other half in a sweet-smelling orange icing, were stacked high on the edge of my plate. About six plate sized pancakes were folded and covered in syrup on another section of the plate.
Hash-browns with ketchup on them were overlapping the eggs, which were half fried and half scrambled.
Angel, Gazzy, Nudge, and Iggy had finished their food, and Dylan was almost done. Dylan ate what we Flock kids consider a human-sized serving. This was amazing considering the awkward way he flew, seeming to use more effort than needed. Combined with the fact that he had a human body weight, which he had to hold up while flying it was truly remarkable.
Dylan finished about the same time as I did, which was funny 'cause he only had about three bites left when I started eating. Huh, I must be hungrier than I thought or he must be a really slow eater. Both probably, though I think the latter was more of the reason.
"So," I said to him. "Today we teach you the art of Street-Fighting." Grinning somewhat evilly, I waited for his reaction. He turned visibly paler. "Good. We start in an hour. Just give me that long for my food to digest."
Walking out of the room it was all I could do not to shake my head, which I did as soon as I was out of his sight. Poor sap. I sure had my work cut out for me, I thought wryly. No help from him, of course.