Authors Note: Yew guyz are supa' KEWL! (:

I posted the first chapter, then went to bed right after that. When I got up the next morning . . . I had sixty five emails. Awhh yeah! I was pretty excited . . . pretty excited. So thanks a ton for taking the time to read it, and put it on alerts/favorites and stuffff. Also extra kewl points for you if you reviewed. Those are much appreciated (much much much).

And alright, I know I said it was boring, but that didn't mean you all had to go: "YEAH! IT WAS TOTALLY BORING AND HORRIBLE. YOU SUCK. GO DIE IN A HOLE AND NEVER COME BACK (because you're dead..and you can't come back to life, ya know?)" . . . Hahahah. Nawww. I'm 'jk-ing' with you guys! ;) None of you did that. I just made that up. I know it was quite boring. Hopefully you like this one better.

Yeah, so I think that's it. Thanks again!

Chapter Two:

Interest

"If you'll please wait here, someone will be with you shortly," the secretary at the front desk droned, the very pitch of her voice betraying her boredom. You didn't even have to see the way her hazel colored eyes drooped, or the slow, languid blinks she took; that lasted longer than necessary, to know. Maybe they didn't get a lot of action in these packed offices?

"Thank you," Aunt Valencia said politely, her teeth flashing in the dim light of the waiting area. There were a few lamps on, but the most illumination the room got was from the tall, though grimy, windows. They filtered in a soft, muted golden glow that sliced through the dark, highlighting the dust that swirled in the air; which was stuffy and warm. So much so that the back of my collar was beginning to stick to my neck.

We filed over to the cluster of chairs in the corner, circled around a coffee table that was so chipped and worn, you could guess it had seen better days. My mom carefully chose a seat across from me, wise to keep her distance. She knew my animosity towards the whole situation. She knew it was partially her fault.

Aunt Valencia did her best to make small talk between us, but I was obsolete in my sullen silence. My mind was a tangled mess of 'what if's'. There were too many possible scenarios in which this could go horribly wrong. Everything was riding on this one meeting. I didn't want to talk about something as insignificant and trifle as the weather for goodness sake.

"Max, honey, you're going to bite right through your lip if you keep worrying on it like that." The low, musical sound of my mother's voice reached through my hectic thoughts and yanked me back to reality in the only way a mother could.

I stared at her blankly, taking in her subdued look. I could see the fear lingering beneath the surface though, bubbling dangerously. She was scared too. Scared she was going to have to pay for her mistakes, which she rightfully should. Just not in this way. Not punishing me, too. I had done everything I could to raise Angel and Gazzy right. Nothing was going to ruin that. Not if I had anything to say about it.

They didn't call me Maximum for nothing.

Or rather, they hadn't called me Maximum for nothing. My time in the nasty business of street fighting was long over. That, along with gymnastics, was something I didn't want to return to. Too many painful memories revolved around them, like ghosts locked to my past. Jared . . .

Thinking his name stung, and I immediately felt an overwhelming surge of sadness wash through me. God, I missed him so much. Even after all this time, I couldn't get over his death . . . what he had done to himself. It was unfathomable to me.

For a short period of time I had hated him with every fiber of my being. I know he had lost Sarah and Ian, but he still had me, right? Why wasn't I good enough for him? Why wasn't I important enough to him? Why did he have to kill himself, and leave me all alone? Why, why, WHY?

Death was not an answer. Death could not solve what he had left behind.

Eventually I had come to terms with his decision though. It didn't make the yearning in my chest go away, but it did help me move on from the sorrow of it. Plus, I had been rather busy around that time. The full schedule had helped me keep my mind off of him.

With that final thought I shifted my gaze from my mom, to the floor. I couldn't stand to look into her depthless, solemn eyes any longer. She was always so . . . quiet and observative. A lot like Fang, when I thought about it.

And speak of the devil, I thought as the cell phone in my pocket started to vibrate. I carefully slid it out, pressing a button so that the screen flashed to life beneath my fingertips. Nimbly clicking away I opened the text message I had received, squinting to read the tiny print.

Roof. Tonight at six. Be there.

No further elaboration; just short, sweet and to the point. That was Nicholas King for you. Always the romantic gentlemen. Pshaw! But really, he did have his moments . . . just not . . . lately, I guess.

I quickly shuffled the thought to the back of my mind. Now was definitely not the time to be focused on Fang and his weird behavior. So not the time. The future of my family was at stake, after all. Worrying about my boyfriend was going to have to wait.

Without replying I replaced the phone in it's original place, folding my shaking hands in my lap. Taking a deep breath I reminded myself to be cool, calm and collected. I could be nervous all I wanted, they just didn't need to know it. Right now appearances were important. I had to seem like a capable almost-adult. Aunt Valencia had to appear like a trustworthy guardian. Mom . . . well, Mom had to be everything she never was to those two children.

"Mrs. Carter will see you now," the same bored, slightly nasally voice reached my ears, as the secretary pointed a lazy finger towards the hallway.

I sucked in another discreet deep breath as I stood, filing in behind Mom with Aunt Valencia at the head, standing tall and strong. She was a force to be reckoned with, that woman was. Once Fang had said she reminded him of me. That was crazy though. I knew how to take care of myself sure, but Aunt Val was truly something else. Wistfully, I wished not for the first time that she had been my mother instead of Rebecca. Things would have been so much easier.

A few feet into the corridor, there was a door set ajar. Inside the clicking of what was probably a computer could be discerned, and the faint rustling of papers. I hesitated at the mouth of the tiny room for a moment, a tickling sense of claustrophobia clawing at me. I shook it off though, swallowing as I stepped completely into the office. Mom and Aunt Val had already taken the two seats situated in front of the desk, so I stood awkwardly behind them, intertwining my fingers so that they didn't hang limply at my sides.

All the while dread continued to eat away at the pit of my stomach.

"Hello," the woman, Mrs. Carter, greeted us warmly; her smile bright and seemingly sincere. She was probably in her mid-forties, judging by the wrinkles around her eyes and the light strips of gray running like liquid silver through her hair. This was the person who would be deciding the fate of my family? Somehow, I had expected someone a little less . . . soft. But maybe that was just my fighter instinct kicking in; automatically assuming my opponent was going to look tough and macho.

And I always beat those opponents. Always. Who was to say I couldn't win this battle as well? Maximum- Max; whoever I was. I didn't take too kindly to losing. It didn't happen often. Why would today be any different? For the first time, I realized that we could do this.

We just needed this woman's approval.

"I hope we're not bothering you in the middle of something," Mom expressed with a slight frown, exuding politeness. It took everything within me to keep my jaw screwed in place. I had no idea she could act so well.

Maybe she's not acting. Maybe she really is better, a small voice nibbled at my consciousness, but I shoved it aside. You didn't abuse drugs for so long and then become immediately cured in only a few months . . . Yet here she was; her shoulders squared and calm, no longer shaking uncontrollably like she used to. Her voice was stronger, less like a wilted flower and more soft, filled with a firmness you didn't question. She had lost the crazed, glassy look in her eyes.

So yes, maybe on the outside she seemed healed. The wounds on the inside were what I didn't believe.

"Of course not. I was just trying to clear up a few things," Mrs. Carter responded, seeming pleased. There was, no matter how much I doubted it, an obvious improvement in my mother. This could work in our favor.

"We'll try to get out of your way as soon as possible," Mom intoned, her lips stretching up at the corners in a smile. I fought to keep a neutral expression. I had never seen her act so . . . normal.

"Yes, well. I supposed we have a few things to talk about then," Mrs. Carter stated, clapping her hands together. She reached into a drawer we couldn't see from our vantage point, pulling out two thin files. Across the top were Angel and Gazzy's names. My heart stuttered in my chest at the sight of them.

Aunt Valencia stepped up to the plate then, leaning forward to rest her palms on the desk. Her gaze was steady and clear, a no-nonsense air about her that made me proud to call her my relative. She wasn't anything fancy, like a lawyer. She was a vet. But if anybody could persuade Mrs. Carter to see the light in our favor, it was her.

"My name is Dr. Valencia Martinez. I moved to the city with my daughter, all the way from Arizona, a few months ago. Very shortly after the children were taken into your custody, actually. I had received a call from my sister, the one I hadn't spoken to in years. She asked me to come. She asked me to help her pick up the pieces. I agreed without hesitation."

Mrs. Carter appeared rapt at attention, listening calmly to Aunt Val's story.

"Rebecca made a mistake. A huge mistake, that cost her everything. There's no denying that. I've seen her progress though. She's been rigorously following the regimen for her addiction, and taking the rehab very seriously. You can see for yourself the woman before you." Here she gestured to my placid mother, who nodded in agreement.

"On top of that," she continued, "my niece has taken care of those children for practically their entire lives, while Rebecca has not. She has proved herself more than capable of raising them. She has gone to extreme measures to ensure their safety. She'll be eighteen in a little more than a month, and can legally take responsibility for them as well. We're more than fit to continue raising these children."

Mrs. Carter stared thoughtfully between the three of us, her audience holding their breaths to hear her deliver her next line, wondering what it could be.

"There are still a few problems," she finally uttered, clearing her throat. My shoulders sagged. No. No, no, no. Not problems. There are no problems.

"I fail to see them," Aunt Valencia admitted.

"Well, for one; there's always the possibility of a relapse, no matter how well a patient is doing. In this case, we have to take that into account."

"But like I said, Max will be eightee-"

"And that's all fine and well, but is a youthful, beautiful young woman really going to want to have to spend all her time and hard earned money on two kids that aren't even her own? Priorities change."

"Don't talk about them like they're a burden," I blurted before I could stop myself, speaking for the first time. "I love Angel and Gazzy. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for them. They're the only 'priority' I've ever known. That will never change. Those two kids you're talking about? Yeah, they're the only ones I've ever had. I won't give up on them."

Mrs. Carter looked at me for the longest time then, as if really seeing me. There was something in her eyes I couldn't discern; something I didn't know the origin of. The possibility that it could be bad just as it could be good frightened me more than anything.

Eventually she turned away, resuming her speech.

"There's also the financial issue."

"We have money," Aunt Val said dismissively. "I have a stable job, and Max has plenty of cash at her disposal, which you should know. We sent the file over beforehand."

Mrs. Carter pressed her lips together, looking as if she was grinding her teeth.

"The main thing out of all of this though, is simply whether or not you're right for these children. We have to keep their best interests in mind," she explained, brushing an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear, like she needed something to occupy her fingers.

I scoffed, a spark of anger beginning to burn. "Their best interest? Their real family is their best interest," I insisted.

"That's not always true. Especially when taking into account that another family has expressed interest in adopting them."

My breath left me in a whoosh, and it felt like I had been punched repeatedly in the gut. Someone else was trying to adopt them? Someone else was trying to adopt them, and the agency was considering it?

"What makes them better for my children than us?" Mom asked tightly, and I could see how upset and angry she was becoming.

"They have a lot of money. They're a slightly older couple yes, but they also have a lot of free time. They'd be able to give them the attention they need. Maybe you should consider the fact that they'd be more fitting for the children. Maybe instead of thinking of what it could do to you, you could put their best interests first. Just as we have."

Adrenaline rushed through me, hot and energizing. I needed to get out of here; needed to run far, far away. Needed to hit something. Anything. I needed the open air and I needed . . . wings. I needed wings like in my bizarre dream from earlier that day.

I needed them so that I could fly away and never come back.

Authors Note: What? You didn't think they were just going to fork 'em over, did you? That wouldn't any fun, now would it? ;)

Why do I keep asking all these questions?

Uhm, ahem. Anyway . . . I had something to say. But I forgot. DANG. Alright, well I guess that's it then. Don't forget to review . . . because as you know, that's very important. VERY important.

SO DO IT! (or I will eat your pony. Grrr [unless of course you don't have a pony, in which case .. you're saved this time;)]

P.S. Some of you answered my question from last chapter, saying if your favorite author on the site or someone who wrote one of your favorite stories replied you felt special. SoOoOoooo. Who's your favorite author on the site, and what's your favorite story on the site? (!)