READ A/N!

Hi guys! I have been writing all week. The chapter would've come sooner, but I was at my grandparent's house, and they've never heard of internet connection. I almost died.

Anyways, this is the last chapter of Songs From the Trees. Yes, there will be an epilogue, so no need to ask.

If you read any of my other stories, I have an important announcement!

If Only I Was Normal will begin again soon, along with my Hunger Games fic. So if you liked this story, check those out!

And I'm thinking of a cool plot for a sequel to this story! IF there is a sequel, then there will be a very short epilogue. Like, 1,000 words, tops. But if you guys vote (in a review) no sequel, then there will be a very long epilogue that concludes this entire story.

Here's a short little blurb (VOCAB WORD!) about what the sequel would be:

Max and Fang are happily engaged. They live near Iggy and Nudge, and visit Vanessa and Gazzy often. But Jeb is in jail, and he isn't happy. He contacts a few friends and gives them one imstruction: kill Maximum Ride and the people who put him in jail. Then, Max has to fight for her life, along with the help of her friends.

NOTE: this equel would not start until I finish my two other fics.

So leave your vote in a review, and enjoy the very last chapter of Songs From The Trees!

"I will now hear the case of Jeb Batchelder."

We were all seated in a court room, watching as Jeb tried to give his sob story to the jury. They were having none of it, and they hadn't even heard the witnesses yet.

"I was in a bad place the one time it happened," Jeb cried, trying to look sorry. "It was a few years ago and I only slapped Max across the face. She was fifteen! And it was only a simple smack!"

Jeb's lawyer was trying hard not to smack Jeb. He was most likely one of those lawyers that were automatically given to criminals without an attorney. I could tell by the way he grimaced at the pleading man whenever he denied the abuse.

Finally my lawyer stepped up. Apparently, he was one of the best, and Vanessa would hire nobody but him. Mr. Mason was his name. I kept telling her we could win this case with the crappiest lawyer in the world, because all I had to do was show the jury my scars. Or they could just look at Angel. Or maybe Valencia's suicide note. Or question Fang, Nudge, Iggy, or Gazzy. They could also track down some of my parent's 'party guests.'

But the first thing our attorney did was call me to the stands. "Max," he began, "your father," I winced at the term father. "abused you from ages three to seven, and then ages eleven to present day. Is this correct?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Were your parents drunk, high, or not of safe mental health when they beat you?"

Biting my lip, I shook my head. "No. They said they did it because we weren't perfect."

"Ah," The lawyer shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Closing my eyes, I willed the tears to stay in my eyes. I will not cry in front of all these people. Especially not Jeb.

"I'm going to have to ask you to show me a few of the scars you have received over the years."

Again, I winced before pulling up my sleeves to show one of my worst scars. It was carved into my upper arm with a small knife used for cutting fruit. It read worthless. Surrounded by other nicks and bruises, it looked kind of pretty, kind of like a pattern that was meant for my skin. Except it says worthless. A different word would have been nice.

"Are there more of these wounds?" Mr. Mason asked, inspecting my arm before carefully taking a picture to show on a screen.

"Yes. All over my arms, legs, and torso," I replied. "A few on my face, too."

"How long have you been hiding these wounds?"

"As long as I've been getting them. I put concealer on them."

"Thank you," he says, "the only questions I have left are about your sister, Angel."

My face immediately burned with anger and sadness. "Alright," I choked out, the words blurring together.

"When she died, who was the one who killed her?"

"Jeb," I replied, feeling the tears wet my eyelashes.

"Good to know," the man said, glaring at Jeb. It seemed nobody really wanted to have anything to do with him. "No further questions."

I quickly got up and left the stand, not wanting to think about the past anymore. My mask slipped on, and this time I didn't stop it.

"Next, I would like to call up Jeb."

Glaring, I watched as Jeb calmly walked to the stands. How can that son of a bitch act like this when we knows that pain and suffering he has caused?

"Jeb," Mr. Mason began, "do you know how your daughter died?"

Attempting to look heartbroken, he answered, "Yes, of a broken neck."

"Do you know how she received that injury?"

Jeb thought for a minute before carefully selecting his words. "Yes, she hit her head on a table."

Technically, he wasn't lying. But my lawyer was taking none of Jeb's act. "Yes. But to have broken her neck, she would have had to been dropped from quite a hight, to gain the momentum needed to actually break the neck. So let me ask you another question. Did you throw Angel, purposely, and break her neck?"

All of this talk about Angel and her death made me want to run and hide. But the need to know that Jeb is rotting in prison for life, is so much stronger than the sadness that I've learned to block out. After all, numbness is better than pain.

Jeb gave a glare, but his eyes admitted defeat. He knew he could not escape. And he wasn't going to lie, that would be imperfect behavior. He's told me that on many occasions. The only exception is when somebody asks about the abuse. "I didn't throw her," Jeb said slowly. "I dropped her."

The lawyer almost scoffed. "On purpose?"

Jeb again threw a glare the attorney's way. "Why do you need to know?"

"Just answer the question."

"Yes," Jeb muttered, barely audible. I couldn't hear him, but I saw his lips form the word.

Mr. Mason looked away in disgust. "No further questions."

Looking around the room, I categorized the people. The disgusted, the defeated, the devastated. I fit into two of these categories, I'm sure you can guess which. Jeb was the only one looking defeated, his lawyer wanted nothing to do with him. Nearly everybody on the jury looked sad, if not angry or repulsed.

I spotted Fang, looking emotionless, as usual. I saw some other people copying Fang's face, not letting emotion shine through. They all wore a mask similar to mine.

"Any more witnesses?" The judge asked both attorneys. Both shook their head. There was no need, everybody knew what was going to happen. "Alright. Jury, make your decision." They immediately nodded and looked around at each other. "We'll continue this tomorrow. It will begin at nine o'clock sharp. Court dismissed."

MAXIMUM RIDE

"Jury, please give us your verdict."

A small, fragile looking, blonde woman stood up from the crowd. I had seen her a few times before, trying to hold back tears. Especially when they showed the pictures of my scars. "We find the defendant, Jeb Batchelder, guilty of all charges."

A small smile showed on my face, but I still felt like crap. Angel was still gone, no matter how long Jeb would be rotting in a prison cell. Although the thought of Jeb sitting on a prison bunk, twiddling his thumbs for many years; that does brighten my day.

Then I saw Jeb. He didn't look all that surprised, or even angry. Just... smug. Like it didn't matter if he went to jail. I guess that's what happens when you're a crazy, child abusing, murderer.

He gave a glare to practically everyone on the jury before moving on to Fang, Nudge, Iggy and me. Gazzy just shrunk behind Vanessa, who had become a strong, loving figure in all of our lives. While she was practically my mother, my friends found her as a sort of aunt, because they had a mother of their own. Seth was having his trial in about a month, which I intended to attend. So until everything is sorted out all of us are staying at Fang's house. Even Iggy's mom.

Vanessa loves it. She says the house finally feels like a home, not just a shell of the love it used to hold. From what I've heard, it used to be pretty empty.

In the house, I've gotten a room of my own. The guest room Angel and I shared has officially become mine, because I'm living there until at least college. It's been customized and has a full wardrobe now, thanks to Vanessa.

Iggy and Gazzy have taken advantage of their shared room and now enjoy spending their time making things that explode. Small smoke bombs to stink bombs, if it explodes, they make it.

Nudge stays in my room, and the both of us love having a constant sleep over. Nudge and I just have so much in common. But now that the girl has come out of her shell, she does not shut up. Talking a mile a minute, she can ramble for hours.

Then of course there's Fang and I. I'll tell you that we won't be breaking up anytime soon. We've been checking out colleges together, as far away from this town as we can get. I'm applying for scholarships, no matter what Vanessa says about paying for any school I want. I refuse to overstep the boundaries I've drawn.

So far my favorite choice is University of North Carolina. My second is Stanford. Both a good distance away from Hell.

But I should get back to the present now.

We're on our way back home. Fang and I took his car while everybody else squeezed into the other car. We sang along to the radio, and just talked on the hour drive back to our small town.

"So graduation is a few weeks away," Fang said conversationally. "Can't wait to see you in a dress."

A smack landed on his arm. "You already have."

We both knew what event I was talking about, but a funeral, especially my sister's, is not the most happy subject for either of us. So we fell silent.

"What about college?" Fang asked after a few minutes of quiet.

"Somewhere far, far away from here," I answered. "Too much history. Especially for some small town in Massachusetts."

A nod came from Fang. "We're practically a friggin magnet when it comes to bad luck."

"At least a few good things happened," I say, tightening my grip on his hand.

"Like?" he prompted, squeezing my hand.

"Jeb getting sent to prison. The abuse stopping. Nudge and Iggy and Gazzy are safe now, too." I looked dead into his eyes. "I met you."

A small, lopsided Fang smile lit up his usually stoic face.

No more words were said after this, but a happy atmosphere continued to buzz around.

"Home." The car stopped.

Home. Was I ready to actually have one? I've been so used to calling the place where I used to live 'a house where I've made myself mildly comfortable on Sundays'.

Isn't home supposed to be a place where happiness grows? Where you look forward to coming back to after a long day? Where your family is? I think home has to be where you can sit by the fire during long winter nights, wrapped in a blanket. The place you come back to during breaks in college. You spend Christmas's at home. Love is at home.

That certainly was not back with Jeb and Valencia. Maybe in the first few years of my life. When I was a baby. Not for a long time, though. I'm honestly not sure how home can turn to hell so quickly. Maybe it's when the love, and comfortableness, and safety, and family all vanish at once.

For so long, wherever Angel was, that was home. She was my love, my family, safety, and I felt comfortable with her. She was my only friend.

So now that she's gone, where is my home? Yes, I think it would be here, with Fang and Vanessa and Nudge and Iggy and Gazzy. I have safety, I'm definitely comfortable, and I'm positive about the love part.

Home is a place where a family can live in peace. And I think my little flock has shown that we're peaceful here. Angel would have been very happy if she were still here with us.

But I still think that this is home.

So as Fang looked at me as I stared out at the house. I answered, taking his hand and kissing him lightly on the lips.

"Yea. Home."