A plot is forming

Creeping up on me like

A snake in the grass

Biting into my soul

The soul of a writer

Also the headache of one

Tank: You should stick to stories.

Me: Don't bother my poetry. He's been through rough times. And JP, do you ever get, like, really bad headaches at random periods of time?

JP: Yeah, why?

Me: YAY! That means I'm a writer.

Tank: Or you have a brain tumor.

Me: You are such a party pooper. You poop parties. But I have headaches all the time now that I'm really starting to write. I need brain space. Seriously. I come up with a good idea, write it down, and another shows up. I'm gonna need a stash of advil stored in my bag or something.

Skid: My head hurts. Why is that? I don't write.

Me: It's because you banged New Moon on it about five million times..

Skid: But it's so boring . . .

Me: I'm with you on that, hummingbird.

I groaned an managed to pull myself off of the bed. Life would be so much easier if you could just sleep all the time. But you can't, so I might as well stop complaining. I should. But I probably won't.

I got dressed and felt really bad. Not about hurting someone's feelings or anything, but just plain bad. I guess it's just one of those days when you just feel bad and can't explain it. I sighed and grabbed my messenger bag.

I opened the door and climbed down my stairs. The smell of French toast filled the waiting room thing and made my stomach form into a tight ball. I swallowed hard and walked into the kitchen, and my stomach formed a tighter ball, then lurched. No food for me. That endangers everyone's health very, very much.

And it didn't help that Iggy put a plate right in front of my nose and said, "Eat up."

I pushed the food away and turned my nose. My stomach was churning, bubbling up any food left in it from dinner last night. "No thanks. Not hungry."

His eyes widened, he slapped his hand onto my forehead, and asked, "Max, are you alright?"

I pushed his hand away and said, "Yeah. I'm fine." Walked over to the fridge, and grabbed a water. "Just not hungry." I sat next to Angel, who was looking extremely cute in her skirt, gray jacket, white dress shirt, and pink tie.

"Max," she said. "Are you really ok?"

I smiled a ghost of a smile and nodded. "Yeah, sweetey. I'm fine." (A/N: Oh, you stubborn little Max.)

She didn't seem to believe me, but still grinned and said, "Great! Then can you please braid my hair?"

I frowned. "Sorry, Ange. I don't know how to braid."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed and sighed.

"I can do it," Gazzy said and walked behind Angel. He parted her hair into three and started to loop it together.

I raised an eyebrow at him and knew he was extremely jealous because he couldn't do it. "Should I be worried about this?"

He scowled. "No, you shouldn't. Some girls in my class were doing it and it seemed pretty easy. And BAM! I can braid."

"Huh," I said and popped open my water. I sipped it and immedietly regretted it. My stomach growled for food and my churned at the same time. I felt like I needed to throw up.

"Max," Fang reached over the table and touched my hand. "Are you alright?"

"Geez!" I exclaimed and stood up. "Why is everyone asking me that? I'm fina, alright? Perfectly fine." I then stormed out, grabbed my keys, and went to my truck. I waited for everyone with the air on, rolling my sleeves up. Why was it so hot in here?

Fang got in first and I could see gossbumps form on his bare arms. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"What are you talking about? It's hot." He gave me the 'are you crazy' look. "What?"

Iggy, Gazzy, and Angel got in the car and all complained about how cold it was.

"Let's just go," I said and turned the key, my engine roaring to life. I hit the gas and we were on our way to school.

We were there in five minutes, and I got out and immediately made my way to my locker. I just wanted school to be over . . .

And that meant this would be the longest day of my life.

I was in the bathroom when I looked in the mirror. No wonder people are asking me if I'm ok. I look terrible. I had bags under my eyes, and my skin had a green tint to it. My eyes were barely open, and even then you could see they didn't have any light to them at all. Just empty holes. I sighed and washed my hands, then grabbed my bag from the counter. I know I must have some sort of make up in here . . . Oh, Nudge. Thank you so much. I don't know how she did it, but she put cover up in my bag and attached a note to it: Maximum Ride, if you don't put this on I will kill you. You look terrible. Love, Nudge.

I smiled at the note, and dabbed some of the stuff over the bags under my eyes. When I was done, I looked relatively better. Still the greenish color, but better. I sighed and put the makeup back into my bag. I had never touched the stuff before, but I was pretty much convinced I would be buying some for times like this.

Hour and a half later

No change in how I feel. No, scratch that. I feel worse. I could barely keep my eyes open during my classes, and when I met up with the guys at my truck I threw the keys at Iggy. "You're driving home."

He gasped. "You're letting me drive your pride and joy? You're baby? You wouldn't even let me touch the keys much less-"

"Iggy. Drive. The damn. Truck," I told him and got into the front seat.

"Alright," he responded and got into the drivers seat.

"I find a single scratch, dent, or piece of mud that's not supposed to be there and I get to kill you," I warned him. I was already planning on killing him, but might as well give him fair warning.

He gulped. "Alright, Max." And drove home, under the speed limit I might add.

We were home, and I immediately went to the living room and laid down on the couch. I was sick. That was for sure.

"Guys!" Jeb called and came into the living room where we all were. "I just got a call from work and I have to be there right now. Max is in charge."

"But she's sic-" Jeb was already out the door before Gazzy could finish his sentence. He shrugged and flipped on the TV.

"Nu-uh," I said. "Do your homework first."

"I vote we watch some TV and blow some stuff up," he said with a smile.

"This isn't a democracy, this is a Maxocracy, so get your crap and do your homework." I pointed to his bag.

"Bu-"

"Gazzy, I don't feel good so now is not the time. Just do your work."

He huffed but pulled out his math book and notebook. I closed my eyes and felt the fire burn behind them, felt the warmth that meant I had a fever. About a minute after I told Gazzy to do his work, I was about to throw up. I rushed to the nearest bathroom and knelt before the porcelain God, puking my guts out. Man, what a way to make a first impression to a God. Throw up in his clothes. Nice.

Have you ever noticed that however little hair you have, it always finds a way to your mouth? Well, my hair had grown out and was about and inch below my ear, but still found its way to my mouth.

Someone knelt beside me and pulled my hair back, and I recognized the soft hands as Angel as they brushed across my cheek, collecting hair.

Alright, who knows what you puke up when there's nothing to puke up? Well, basically if it was still in my system, it was soon in the toilet. And that's just gross.

After my puking ceremony was over for the time being, I said, "I-Fang, you're in charge."

"Why is he in charge?" Iggy asked.

I looked at him and raised a shaking eyebrow. "I don't trust you to not blow up the house." Then my face was pointed towards the toilet bowl again and I was throwing up a clear liquid that definetly was not water.

I heard shuffles and Iggy, Gazzy, and Fang left the room.

"Ange, can you get me some water or something?" I asked her so I had something to throw up when I did again.

She hesitated and then nodded. "Alright. I'll ask Fang to get you some medicine." I nodded and she got up off her knees. I wasn't throwing up anymore, but that was because I had nothing left in my stomach. I slumped down and rested my forehead on my knees. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but eventually ANgel came back in and handed me a water bottle and two pills.

I took them eagerly and popped the pills into my mouth. I gulped down the water ever so slowly and felt like I had to throw up again. Ya know how they tell you to put your head between your legs and take deeo breaths? Well, it doesn't work. At all. I was kneeling before the God of Puking in under a minute.

Angel sughed and gathered my hair up, yet again. Let us pray that my barfing session will be over soon.

Yeah. Right. My life is too hard for that. I was kneeling in front of the toilet for about half an hour before my stomach contents stopped bringing themselves up. Ugh . . .

I was soon asleep on the bathroom floor, and the last thing I remembered was Fang kissing my forehead, electric sparks running across my forehead.

This story

Has seen better days

Among the first chapter

And others after

I hadn't meant to ryhme

What is the time?

Tank: Uh . . . 9:43.

Me: Thanks.

JP: Why do you want the time?

Me: I wanted to know the time I had written my suckiest chapter ever.

Skid: This one did suck ass.

Me: I know . . . I think I have symptoms of writers constipation coming back. And I was rushing myself. Ugh. I hate myself for doing this. To my readers: Please, I know this chapter sucks. Don't put my spirits down even more. I'm not even sure what I'm gonna do for the next chapter.

- Sanity