Summary: What if Max and the Flock had never gotten "the talk"? What is the outcome of an adolescence without an adult and knowledge of societal norms?
Chapter Three: Fang
Nibbling on a piece of toast downstairs, I began to go through a checklist of things we had to get done. On this list were many various things, including but not limited to fixing the hole in the attic that Iggy and Gazzy had blown through last weekend during one of their prototype tests, doing the laundry, cleaning up the crayon scribbles on Nudge's wall that Gazzy had done when they'd fought, teach Angel how to do a side-swerve... I sighed. I'd better get started soon. Gazzy and Nudge were out playing a game of tag on the cliffs, neglecting their chores with trained expertise while Angel was drawing something, uh, abstract, I suppose. Iggy was mumbling to himself and messing around with a toaster. I groaned. That last observation required immediate attention. That pyro bird kid was probably coming up with the blueprints for a project for him and Gazzy to do in the middle of the night.
Note to self: change rooming situations. Those two simply breed off of one another. I distractedly wondered what Angel would be like if she were the one rooming with Iggy instead of Gazzy. Yeah, thats all I need—a mind-reading pyro instead of a farting one. That would've left Nudge with Gazzy. The only outcome of that pair.. two bickering practical jokers with a love-hate business relationship.
If I were a hispanic woman with big hairspray hair, I'd be saying "ay-ay-ay" right about... now.
Interrupting my train of thought was Fang. He walked into the kitchen.. about 3 ½ hours late for breakfast with dripping wet hair and a long baggy shirt that went halfway to his knees. Are those his pajamas, I wondered? Last time I had seen his sleepwear, we were 9 or 10 and they were dark navy flannels Jeb had bought for each of us. Obviously he'd grown out of that.. he'd also grown into keeping his door locked, as I had figured out this morning.
"Good Morning !!" I said brightly, hoping to piss him off just a little bit. To my surprise he just kept his sopping head down and sat at the counter on a seat miles away from mine, completely ignoring me. I wonder what got up his arse and bit him.
"..Hey.. yo.. are you alright?" I asked, slightly concerned. His shoulders were mad tense. Fang was the only member of the flock who took showers in the morning.. in fact, probably the only member sans myself who would take one willingly. (Of course, that wasn't always the case. I can clearly remember him kicking and screaming—literally—when Jeb had first brought us here and introduced us to a washroom). But Fang probably only does it to keep me from nagging at him anyway.
In any case, when he showers, he does it at 4 in the morning.. never at 11. Something seemed really off about him today. Even Iggy noticed. He completely ignored me, again.
"Hey man.. are you alright? Whats wrong with you?" Iggy asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
"Nuthin. I'm fine." Fang finally replied.
"AH, he speaks!" Iggy brightened up considerably and went back to tinkering with the lightbulb in the oven with the toaster in his other hand.. One could only wonder what he's coming up with in that diabolical mind of his..
Fang looked up at me from all the way across the table, his eyes clearly open through his long dark sopping wet bangs.
"Sorry," he said to me, in a second between stuffing himself with bacon, eggs, and toast.
Still skeptical, I tilted my head to observe him in a different angle.
"Sure," I said slowly, yet good-naturedly.
I waited for two slow minutes to go by and he gulfed down all the food on the table, and then slowly stepped down from the kitchen stool I was sitting at and walked across the entire counter, to a seat closer to Fang.
"We gotta teach Angel how to do that side-swerve today," I said, my head sitting on my propped palm.
It was a slow, sunny day out.. One of those days where you just don't feel like getting up and getting stuff done. I was prolonging the inevitable list of chores to do as best as I could, but I knew I'd have to do this shit in the end anyway. I sighed.
"Yeah." Fang replied. You gotta applaud him for his awesome ability at giving one-word answers.
He sucked BBQ sauce off of his thumb casually. (Yeah, we've got weird taste preferences, in comparison to you, maybe).
"So you wanna do it this afternoon?" I asked him. Fang was the technical flight expert, not me. I might be faster, but hes definitely more suave. What I lack in technicality, I make up for in speed. But the truth is, if I didn't have that speed factor, I'd be more like a waddling duck. Fangs got this incredible talent of flying so smoothly and perfectly—he can control these feathers on his wings that'll give him the slightest elevation or pressure, that I can't even get to budge on mine. I guess it helps that his wings are ginormous too. We think he's got raven DNA.
It's sort of irritating to be honest. When Jeb left, a year ago, I was taller than him by half an inch. Just one year and he's already 3 inches past me. But thats just Fang. Iggy's going nearly at 4.
Fang looked up at me quietly.
"Can't you do it? You're good enough." he asked me. I was nonplussed. I definitely am not the right person to be teaching our fledglings how to make the right turns. I still quiver a bit after making a really sharp one.
I looked at him strangely. What was up with him today? He caught the look I was giving him and turned away from me, looking straight ahead of him.
"I.. just don't feel like it today. I'll teach Angel then... uh, next week. Is that cool?" He asked, still staring straight ahead.
Still confused, I nodded. He looked at me from the corner of his right eye, and then turned back.
"Yo Ig, can I get some ice here?" He said to the blind boy, who had his head and entire upper body inside the oven.
Ig popped out, his face, white t-shirt, and light blonde hair covered with soot-like substance. It was sort of creepy looking to be honest, the whites of his eyes standing out starkly against the.. well.. black-everything that he was.
Iggy popped open the fridge and slid the ice cube tray down the counter to Fang. I watched Fang slam the tray down and pick up the free ice cubes. He stuck them down the neck of his superlatively large t-shirt. He let out a quiet sigh. I was seriously getting worried.
"Fang.. you sure you're alright? It's not that hot out, and you're still dripping wet," I said to him.
"I'm, fine." he said stiffly. There wasn't room for argument.
I shrugged and went downstairs to do the laundry. You can't fight with Fang too long. It's Fang.
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Dragging up the laundry baskets from the basement, I decided to go check up on the flock. Nudge was braiding Angel's hair and they were singing some godforsaken song they were making up.. well, at least they were happy? Gazzy and Iggy were whispering conspiratorially on the staircase.. they scattered once they caught sight of me. What to do with them...
I went out to the backyard, and found Fang laying down on the grass staring up at the bright blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. Putting the laundry basket down next to me, I sat down next to him, wrapping my arms around my knees. I looked up.
"It's been a year, Fang.." I said calmly.
"Yeah.." he responded, thoughtfully.
"Are we doing okay? I keep thinking I can't mess up.. I just can't. I need to raise them right. I need to." I said quietly, stuffing my head into my knees.
"You won't mess up. And you're not alone. Maximum Ride." Just hearing his dense voice say my name, solid as stone, gave me courage.
"Thanks, Fang." I said, turning to look down at him. His eyes were closed. His sopping wet hair had dried in the streaming sunlight. He grunted in acknowledgment. I laughed at his typically Fang-like response, secretly relieved that he was being normal again. I guess this morning was just me overreacting.
I grinned evilly. Eyes closed, laid flat on his back.. what a vulnerable position to be in. Its key to what we're not supposed to do. Tsk, tsk Fang, dearie. I got up, ready to give him a double chop down on his shoulder blades.
I raised my arm, ready to impale down onto him with mighty MAX force, but on the first downswing.. I found myself falling over and doing a cartwheel onto the grass.. In a small second, Fang had opened his eyes and dashed away hurriedly. That was weird. Its as if he did it, not cause I was about to physically abuse him, but just because. Feeling rather foolish, I picked up the laundry basket and to go tell Gazzy and Nudge to fold the freshly laundered clothes.
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"Hey where's Fang?" Gazzy asked at dinner.
I stared at the two empty trays of lasagna in front of his usual chair. Dinner was something no one in the flock ever missed. Iggy spends hours slaving over dinner. Its not just him either, it's a group effort. Tonight was lasagna. 12 dishes, two lasagnas for each of us.
"Can I have his then?" the Gasman asked eagerly, sticking his fork into one of Fang's trays. I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, that was weird, he was helping me make dinner with Iggy too," Nudge said, in the middle of a rant about My Little Pony.
"I think you should go check up on him, Max, he sounds like he's in pain," Angel said worriedly.
Now that really alarmed me. Everyone froze when Angel said that. I quickly turned to her.
"How long has he been up there, sweetie?" I asked her, painstakingly slowly. Angel always neglected to tell us crucial pieces of information until she thought it necessary through her own personal judgment, or when she simply remembered to. You can probably guess how reliable a 5-year-old's sense of propriety is..
"Since about 7, I think," Angel said innocently. My eyes widened. That was a over 2 hours ago.
The flock all jumped out of their seats to heading for the stairs to our bedrooms, sans Angel.
"I don't think we should all go up there. He doesn't want us there. He keeps saying that he wishes Jeb were here.." Angel said thoughtfully, still sitting in her seat.
Nudge sat down, her lower lip quivering, and her fists clenching the edge of the table. The Gasman made fists on the back of his chair. Poor gazzy, trying to play it cool. Iggy looked helpless, but immediately began rubbing Nudge's shoulder.
"Iggy, why don't you guys go watch some tv. I'm sure Fang is fine. He's Fang. I'll go check up on him. Nudge, its your turn to do the dishes. Chop chop, come on," I said in my leader Max voice. Somehow that tone of voice made everyone better again.. As long as I could radiate a sense of security. The Key is to pretend that you know what you're doing, so that everyone else will put their trust in you. Remember, theres always a plan. Being a leader is just.. being someone to rely on, I suppose. I'm Maximum Ride, and I'm here to protect my flock.