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 Thirteen: An Incredible Urge
We got back to the campsite. I felt superlatively self-conscious, feeling like my hair was haphazardly lain out or that my shirt or jeans were inappropriately adorned, or that.. I dunno. That something would be suspicious and would cause the kids to question us. Why did this feel like some big secret anyway? My head felt all muddled. There was so much I didn't get. I didn't like not getting things. It's hard to be blissfully unaware when you can't help being so paranoid, yakno?
I sat down on the picnic blanket and Angel climbed into my lap. Absentmindedly patting down her hair, I made a mental note to have a chat about her with what she had done earlier today. She's obviously aware of something, considering she doesn't exactly have the largest sum of moral discretion when reading minds. I seriously needed to talk to her.
The sun was setting. The murky blue sky was tinged orange, the sun completely out of sight by now. Fang was sitting off to the side, being particularly anti-social. More so than he usually is. There were a number of emotions written on his face. It was clear to me that he was thinking, hard. Conflicted. It wouldn't be a surprise over what, now would it? I sighed, shaking my head. I wanted to stop thinking about this. Strange feelings, don't know whats happening, getting embarrassed and not knowing why, feeling weird, Fang saying such strange things.. Fang being so.. uncharacteristically domineering? Too much. Right now, it was too much to think about. I rubbed my forehead, sighing quietly.
"Max, I'm sorry," Angel said, looking up from her seat in my lap. I looked down at her with a half-hearted smile.
"Its okay sweetie, don't worry about it. When we get back to the house we'll talk, okay, honey?" I said.
"Oh-kayy.." Angel said, stretching out the syllables, and turning back around to watch the remnants of the sunset over the hill. I looked over to Fang, sitting on the grass a considerable distance away from the blanket. He was resting his forehead on his thumb and forefingers, his head tilted down. I looked away from him.
I saw Iggy walking towards me. He sat down on my other side on the blanket as Angel got up and ran away excitedly to join the Gasman and Nudge chase fireflies around the field.
"So we really want to camp out tonight, cool?" Iggy asked casually, using the minimal amount of words as possible in his request, saying it lavishly quickly. It was a clever tactic. I almost just consented simply because from the tone of voice, his request seemed to be a trivial thing. But then I reran the sentence over in my head. Huh. Who, exactly, did they think they were kidding? Smirking snidely, I replied just as casually.
"Uh.. nope," I said with a smile. Psh. They had to be kidding. No way we were camping out tonight. NO way we were camping out this far away from the house. No, way. Iggy groaned, but didn't bother making a second attempt. It was a nice try though, gotta give him that. He sighed deeply in retaliation, bringing his head forward. I rolled my eyes. Drama Queen.
I watched the younger kids laugh and jump around, amidst the fireflies lighting up the lawn in front of the deep forests against the darkening sky. I think I just saw Gazzy eat one. I'll pretend I didn't see it, I thought to myself. The sky was completely dark by now. It was night time. We should definitely be heading back right now. I looked around. Fang still seemed to be tired, but it was only a 10 minute flight. Whatever. 2 minutes longer can't hurt him, or us, I compromised. Besides, the kids were having fun. 2 minutes of more fun should help them poop out into their beds easier too. I looked to my side where Iggy was sitting on the blanket. He had that look on his face again.
I rolled my eyes. There was that thing. He wanted something. I'd been sensing it since yesterday. He wanted something from me, and he's hiding something too. I'd make a guess as to what it is, but you never know with Iggy. He's that crazy bastard that brought a blender to a picnic and somehow made it work, using an Internet modem, a rock, and a stick. The beast.
He threw me a shifty smile. I glared at him, just waiting to hear what he had to say.
"So.. Max," he started out diplomatically. I rolled my eyes, humming an agitated acknowledgment. He heard the familiar sound, and threw me a mischievous grin, throwing away all inhibitions. This routine definitely isn't a new development..
"So... I wanna dye Gazzy's skin purple," he said bluntly, a playful lilt in his voice. Contrary to common belief, knowing him, he was totally serious. I mean come on, its Iggy. I turned my head to face him, observing him with my eyes half-lidded and saying nothing. I'd love to say 'You're kidding me' but that'd be totally lost on him. Duh, he was serious. He sensed my tiredness but continued anyway. Somehow my irritation seemed to freaking propel him forward even more. WHY ME? I thought dramatically, for a moment.
"Whaddya need?" I asked him nastily. Well, I tried my best at least. It's all wasted on him. Knowingly, this only elicited a wider grin. He knew he'd won.
"Your old jeans that don't fit Nudge yet, that yellow pencil with the fuzzy eraser top and that purple shirt," he said quickly, smiling. His teeth twinkled. Freaking, psycho. What type of person's teeth twinkles?! Ugh.. man, Iggy. I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, and we'll need to buy a new toaster," he added thoughtfully. My left eye twitched madly. It was probably having a seizure. Yes, specialized seizure symptoms for specialized areas of the body. Okay? Iggy can do that do you. Was he for real?, I wanted to ask myself. But unfortunately, the answer to the question wasn't so appeasing..
"Sure, whatever," I said to him slowly, my teeth gritted. I squinted at him. He could definitely feel this glare. I wouldn't be Maximum Ride if he couldn't. I should start listing that as one of my abilities: transferring glares to such aforementioned blind kids.
"Suh-weet. Thanks, Max, YOU'RE AWESOME," he exclaimed loudly before he ran got up excitedly.
"Don't forget to clean up the picnic site," I called after him. At least he'd listen to me for.. the next two.. minutes. That was the trade-up. Then he'd completely forget he owes me and subsequently get lazy all over again. Poor bafoomus I am. Ah well.
I watched Iggy enthusiastically busy himself in cleaning up all that we had brought with us. He was ultra-energized, probably devising his plan to get back at Gazzy whilst humming grotesquely cheerfully. He pulled out the blanket from underneath me with just a single tug. I would whistle here if I could. Thats what you call a skilled psycho.
We cleaned up the mess and packed everything up. I glanced behind me to see my flock lined up in V-formation, me at the head and center taking a quick count. Feeling energized all over again, prepping for a flight (regardless of it being a short one), I put a determined smile on my face. I shot Fang a smirk, expecting a tiny smile in return.. but his face remained stoic and apathetic. He looked drained, almost as if having spent a lot of time consumed in his own thoughts. Frowning for just a moment, I turned back to the rest of my flock members, ignoring him, for now. My smile, less heartened now, was shot at each one of them. I turned back around to face front determinedly. Pumping my fist, I spoke to the sky. "U and A, guys," and we were up and out. Bliss.
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Nudge landed first with a tired groan. Her landing was superlatively wobbly, and she staggered on the doorstep, knocking into Gazzy. He protested at the impact, but only weakly. He too, was insanely tired. I watched my flock sleepily trudge up the front steps in front of the house, groaning at the thought of more stairs to climb before they could collapse on their soft inviting beds. The only bedroom that wasn't on the second floor.. was Jeb's. But save for one time seven months ago, we don't touch that place. The door wasn't locked. Its easy to just walk in there. But no. The room smells like him. The bedsheets are still mussed up from the last night he slept here. From the night before he left, it would remind us of the morning we got up and didn't see him anywhere. We don't go in there unless we really needed to, like when we had realized we'd run out of food in the pantry and found a credit card conveniently sitting on top of his dresser. We'd later connect all the clues and realize he had actually left us. Consciously.
I rested my chin on my palms, leaning over the kitchen counter on a stool and looking into the den, watched the kids trudge up the stairs wearily. They'd collapse on their beds fully clothed and to be honest, I wanted to as well. I was just as tired, despite the nap I took today. Too bad I had to do the laundry. Ugh, the perils of being The Maximum Ride. Dirty underwear and smelly socks. How glorious.
Pulling my shoulders back to work out some kinks, I stretched my neck out, rocking it back. I closed my eyes for just a moment of peace before I got up determinedly. The faster I got this done, faster I could be off to bed. Walking around the counter, I rolled my eyes in sheer stupidity. I just realized that I had forgotten to talk to Angel. Ugh. Whats the use of saying 'Note to Self' if you don't actually remember it?! Ugh. Tomorrow then. I'd talk to her tomorrow. Hopefully. Ojala. Isn't that how you say it in espanol? Hmm..
On my way to the steep stairs leading to the basement to the side of the kitchen, I backtracked. I had to get the laundry first. The drowsiness was making my head just go whack. I held my forehead for a moment. 'Absentminded' definitely doesn't suit me. Gotta get out of this hole. Rolling my eyes disgustedly at myself, I walked upstairs. The hallway was still and a sense of comforting quietness washed down the walls. It soothed me to know my flock was resting, sleeping quietly after having a great day. I let out a breath of relief, curiously not feeling quite so tired anymore.
I walked into the boy's bathroom, picking up the messy basket with piles of clothes thrown onto it. I grimaced, rolling my eyes. I sat myself on the cold white tiled floor, sorting through the clothes and putting them into three color-coded piles. We didn't exactly have a wide array of clothing choices. On the upside though, we saved on detergent.
"Ugh," I exclaimed as something wet reached my fingers. It was over one of Gazzy's blue shirts. That kid must've spilled yogurt or some shit this morning before he threw this thing in here. One pair of sweats of Iggy's was completely covered with a HUGE mess of it, the upper half of it practically drenched. It must've rubbed all over, cause it was all over everything now. I'd have to remind Gazzy later.. Stained, wet things don't get put in the laundry basket.. messes up everything else even worse. Agitated, I messed up the neat piles I had made and threw it all in bulk into one basket. It was all spoiled anyway. Who cares if the colors get messed up? I never really understood that either, when Jeb taught us how to do the laundry. Why does it matter if we put all the clothes in at once and wash them? Jeebuz Dice. Its so much easier to just do it all at once. I stood up with the heavy basket. And these were just the guys'. I left the filled basket at the top of the stairs and then walked to the girl's bathroom.
Luckily, the girls were smaller, their clothes smaller and less bulky. Only filled up half of the bucket.
I piled the two baskets ontop of one another with a light grunt. It was probably around 1 AM by now.. just a little bit more work to do before I could go off to bed. I lifted both baskets, one stacked on top of the other. I knew the house well enough, obviously, to be able to get around with my eyes covered, but the task was still tediously laborious. I reached the rickety stairs that led down the basement to where our rusty old washer and dryer were. Putting the pile down with an "..oomph," I sat down next to the baskets. After I threw in the first load—it was the guy's things and I hadn't bothered sorting them out by color since they were all messed up with the dumb yogurt stuff Gazzy had thrown in there—I sat down tiredly. 20 minutes until our old but handy-dandy washer would be done, and then to throw them in the dryer and load the whites clothes the girls had before I did their colors.
I found myself slowly nodding forward, but caught myself before I could fall into the illustrious, seductive lull of sleep that beckoned me ever-so-tauntingly. I sighed as the day ran through my head like a film reel. Hesitantly, I thought back to Fang. I fiddled with my fingers, stretching and absentmindedly tugging a piece of white cloth that may have been a shirt of Angel's or not. I was putting a lot of work into fidgeting around with my knuckles in my hands, but that wasn't where my head was focusing at.
I thought about how much had happened in just the last few days. At least I felt preoccupied now. At least it felt like I'd had a hold on things. Afterall, this is adversity. Fang's problem.. thats adversity. And although I can't say I fixed the problem.. at least we're dealing with it. At least we haven't yet just simply keeled over and died. Everything is.. deal-able. With or without Jeb. In some sense I'm proud of ourselves, despite how much we've significantly done nothing.. but we're dealing with it. You can always either deal with it, or die. One way or the other, we're still living life at the moment. Without him. We didn't need him, I tried to convince myself.
But, about life. Is it really worth living if dealing with it encompasses so many other sub-problems? Don't get me wrong here. Birdkids don't contemplate suicide. Thats not what I was thinking about. I fight to live, and I live to fight for what I believe in. What I mean is.. what Fang and I are doing.. whats happening to Fang. Its so foreign. So strange.
I'd never seen those parts of him before just a few days ago. And the real question is.. that I don't know why. We have a separate boy's bathroom and a separate girl's bathroom. Fang and I each have our own rooms, and Gazzy and Iggy share while Nudge and Angel share. No co-ed dorming in this house. No matter how much I tried to examine the situation, sitting on the cold hard marble basement of our E-shaped house and leaning against the washing machine humming against my shoulder blades, I couldn't think of anything else. Because no matter how I looked at it, this whole set-up, this whole situation that Jeb had set-up for us. It all constituted gender segregation. And really now, what was the point of all that?
No, I don't mean the point of gender-segregation, although thats still something I'm curious about, but I mean, what was the point of setting up such a situation? I couldn't wrap my head around in any which way.
This is why. This is why I felt strange, guilty, paranoid, about helping Fang. Because.. it'd always been a tacit, unspoken thing, but still grounded nevertheless.. we weren't supposed to see certain things. Theres the whole concept of privacy again. But like I said before, I don't think privacy is a large concern in the way I run this flock. But, I suppose there'd been a reason we'd had separate showers and separate bath rooms. There must always be a reason. Jeb always had a reason. We figured all about his intentions later on, but everything that he had done within the 2 years he had stayed with us, it had all happened for a reason. Everything he did had a purpose.
By.. by helping Fang, coming in such close contact with places I'd never seen before, never even distinguished about him before.. thats why I felt paranoid. It felt like I was defying Jeb. Doing something that I wasn't supposed to be doing. I put my forehead on my palms, rubbing my temples.
Its not a question about "What were we doing?" because its obvious what we were doing. It was completely necessary. Fang needed help. But then why did everything thats happened today, feel so good yet so bad?
Like thunder, my last thought struck a cord in a neuron somewhere that would lead up to my cerebrum. I had wondered why Fang had said it felt good today. Not better, not awful anymore, but a positive connotation with the word good. The word awesome. What if it was just like that? Just like what I was feeling today. Something that felt so good yet so bad. I felt the drowsiness cloud my thoughts as I struggled to keep focusing on the train of thought epiphanies chugging through my brain. The lack of carbon dioxide triggered my medulla oblongota up in the recesses of my mind, and I yawned quietly on the cold hard floor of the basement. The load was still whirring behind me. Shouldn't it be done by now?, I thought absentmindedly, leaning my head back to feel the bumps as the cycle spun around. It spun around and around in the washer like my head felt spinning around and around like how it was spinning right then at that moment too.
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Fang walked down, mentally becoming more and more irritated by the second as the basement stairs creaked with each step. Couldn't they be a tiny bit quieter? Jeebuz Christ. He'd remind himself later to fix those, he thought.
He set down another basket of ruined sheets. He had set his subconscious alarm clock last night to ring extra early to try to salvage them, but it had obviously been a failed effort. He looked at the sheets, glaring at them in his head, but his face didn't betray the emotionless exterior settled there. He shook his head disappointedly at them, just a slight movement of his chin that released a billion emotions. It was so hopeless.. But, whatever. They'd deal with it as things came. Even though it irritated him that Max was being so.. headbutty about it. For now.. just wash the sheets. And his pajamas, he added as an afterthought.
He turned around to set up the washing machine with water and detergent but what he saw surprised him. Max was sitting on her butt on the cold, hard, and gray basement floor. Her bare hands were tucked between her thighs, salvaging for warmth. Her shoulders huddled together, her neck was bent, awkwardly leaning back against the washer. Next to her there were several baskets of unwashed laundry. Immediately, Fang grew frustrated. What was wrong with this girl? Falling asleep here, working herself to the bone.. There were limits, oh there were definitely limits. As strong as Max was, she could be so damn stupid sometimes. Beyond belief. Sometimes he felt like smacking her. But he hadn't done something like that in ages. Since when Jeb first taught them self-defense. He'd trade up those blows then, for now any moment of the day. At least now she could learn how idiotic she is from the pain.
But no, he'd never hurt her.
His eyes still hard, he quickly walked over and bent down to one knee, checking to see how deep her sleep was. Damn, that girl could sleep anywhere. What was it called? Oh yeah, an adaptation of necessity; the experience that comes from living up in a dog crate for the first 10 years of your life. Looking around them Fang assessed all the work she had put on herself.. what time was it when she heard her shuffle around upstairs last night? Around 1. What an idiot. Couldn't she have just done it in the morning? Instead of freezing her butt off in the freakin basement? Fang closed his eyes and sighed, lifting his head.
He immediately got to work, gently removing the plastic white laundry basket full of pink clothes that were presumably Nudge's and Angel's that she was leaning on. He maneuvered his hand around the basket so that she wouldn't notice its disappearance in her sleep. Once the basket was pushed out of the way, his own arm carefully took its place. Her head on his shoulder while he was still crouching down was pretty awkward position for him, but only momentarily. He slipped his hands underneath the crook of her knees, and gently nudged her head to be pillowed in his underarms against his chest. Taking a quick survey of all of her body parts, he carefully and quietly flexed his knees and stood up, balancing her weight on his torso and arms, cradling her against him like a child. Never thought that he'd see the day.
He cursed quietly again as he climbed up the basement stairs. Creakiest things in hell, those things were. They'll definitely be fixed soon, whether they liked it or not. It killed all and any notions of stealth, he noted.
He padded themselves up the stairs of the second floor. Luckily for those stairs, they were soft and carpeted. No animate and/or inanimate object would ever want to face Fang's wrath. He passed the doors of Iggy and Gazzy and Nudge and Angel, looking into each one while he balanced Max on one side. A weight lifted from his heart as he made sure they were all sleeping peacefully. He did that occasionally. He'd get up in the middle of the night sporadically and pad out into the hallway to check everyone's rooms and make sure they were all there and sleeping peacefully before he went back to bed. Not sure why. He called it off as some natural OCD-like behavior of his.
After checking that each of his flock members were safely sleeping in their beds he about-faced to push open Max's bedroom door with his shoulder-blades. He walked into the dark room, well lit by the light of the vibrant moon mixing in with the rising sun. It was about 4:10 AM. He carried her gently and laid her down on top of her covers on her bed, the soft mattress and pillow cushioning her on impact. He leaned back after laying her down, stretching his arms out behind him. Sure, he was taller, but he wasn't that much taller. She was still pretty heavy. He noticed the hair that fanned out around her on the pillow and gently took a strand, twirling it around his finger.
He brushed off the hair that had fallen in front of her face, smoothing out to the side and tucking it behind her ear. He had seen her do that a lot, often, when she was about to start working—she'd tuck her hair behind her ear. He watched his own fingers do the same, slightly astounded by the soft feel of the cartilage on the outer lobe of her ear. He looked down at her with her hair no longer obscuring the visage of her face. He liked it like that. He liked looking at her face clearly, without distractions in front. The expressions on her face.. they were always so transparent. You could always tell what she was thinking or how she was feeling because everything was always written on her face. Its like heart was on her sleeve. Or maybe it was just he who could read her so well.
The window against the head post of her bed let a strange light fall over her face. The daybreak looming, the sky was a mixture between a light soggy midnight blue and a tired gray orange. It looked cloudy, almost rainy. The interesting mixture of light and colors danced over the contours of her face—the high, soft cheekbones that would get red easily more often recently, and the large clean, intellectual forehead, with a few freckles spotted over the far ends. The small chin jutted out to a square heart-shaped face. He'd given her upper-cuts there frequently when they were younger and in training. She always sucked at that—you could just trick her into turning around and then put a well-placed punch up chin or your hands around her neck. He looked down to examine the tender flesh below her jaw.
Leaning over the side of her bed, his right hand absentmindedly hovered her neck, just curious to the feel of it. It'd probably be very soft, it just looked like it. He swung his left hand over Max's other side to support himself as he leaned over her. He looked down at her face for moments longer, assessing it. Quiet, expressionless.. peaceful, unworrying. He frowned at he noticed lines etched in between her eyebrows. She was 13. She didn't have any real need to roll her eyes or furrow her eyebrows that much, now did she?
His heart fell. Yeah she did. And he was just another problem. Another worry. Max had been stressing over him hard the past few days, trying to do everything she could to help.
But she just didn't understand. Even he didn't understand. His eyes slid down from her face onto her chest. He could see the peaks of her pert bosom. He stared a moment longer, encaptivated. With a mental groan, he felt his pants getting uncomfortably tight. Ohh, this was not the right time for that to happen. He shut his eyes, gathering his bearings. He slowly let out a breath. He'd have to deal with this. He brought his arm back from leaning on the bed on her other side and stood up. He looked at her for a moment longer. He probably had her face memorized by now, having grown up with one other, but it felt as if he was willing her face to respond these days. He wanted something written on her face, and he was just imagining the beyond-radiant beauty it would hold if it were there. Something he'd never seen before. That certain sparkle in a smile, a laughter in her speech. He missed it, because it wasn't so that it had never been there before.
Fang leaned forward, towards her face. He brushed her hair back across her soft forehead with his rough and callused fingers. The contrast of the feeling of the two skins meeting was striking. He leaned closer. He.. he suddenly had this incredible urge. He leaned closer to her. Why was he having this incredible urge? He didn't know. Back when he was still here, it was what Jeb did to Max every night. To all of the girls. And Max did it to the younger kids now too. He never got it, never understood it, yet he was standing there, inches away from Max, restraining himself. But why? Why would he need to? He just wanted to.. he just felt like it. So with his eyes open and hypersensitive of everything around them, Fang leaned his face towards her with one hand place over her head, holding her hair back, gently pressing his lips to her forehead. He kept his lips on her forehead for a moment longer, relishing in the feeling as he closed his eyes before he knew he had to get up. He looked at her one last moment before walking away, closing the door gently behind him.
Fang walked to his bedroom, opened up the second drawer of his bedside table and took out a box of tissues. He pulled three or four out of the box and placed them on the bed before he lay down on it, slipping his jeans and briefs down midway to his thighs. He released with a groan and threw away the tissues he had caught the white stuff with. He lay on his bed for a moment longer, catching his breath, before he got up and walked downstairs swiftly.
Walking down the creaky basement stairs that which annoyed him to no end, he tackled all the remaining laundry Max hadn't been able to finish. Of course, he wouldn't tell her. She liked to think she was in charge, liked to do things herself. Didn't like to get help. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Did she think he was any different? How naïve. I guess people are most blind to who they themselves truly are, he thought. While sorting out the clothes and doing the tedious labor, he wondered why Max put things on herself so often. It'd be easy to just tell Gazzy and Nudge to do these chores. She didn't need to shoulder all the responsibilities.
For the second or third time that morning, his heart fell again as he realized that she did the chores without complain because she put it on herself as the leader. And thinking back, it isn't as if she didn't tell the kids not to work, she definitely did. But the chores always got held back by.. whatsits.. picnics, procrastination, clever birdkids with quick getaways. And she was the one who picked up the slack. Like the creaky basement stairs he'd told himself to fix later, if he mentioned his intentions to Max and ended up never getting around to it, she'd fix them herself. The thought inspired vicious anger within him, a burning rage. He'd make sure this he never had to see Max fallen tired like that again.
Finishing up the last load, his own sheets, he threw the last thing he needed to go in the dryer before stretching his arms behind his back with a yawn. He'd leave this stuff here and then go up to help Iggy with breakfast. It was already around 5:30. Iggy was probably just in the guy's bathroom right now, washing up.
So thanks for all the reviews guys. =DD
I recently got some spare time to write some more since my schools been closed for a few days, cause of this whole swine flu thing goin on.
I mean, no one I know has it, as far as I know, but its sort of crazy cause everyones sick with Influenza Type A. But my schools is full of geeks and dorks and nerds with high IQs, so these sick kids are still coming to school and coughing up heck everywhere.
So my principal forcefully shut it down cause so many kids were sick and in school cause they didn't want to miss class (Haha, crazy, isnt it? Man I strongly dislike some of the obsessively academically-oriented kids in my school).
Its not that weird that school shut down for like two days, I live in NY, so its been going around this area. An assistant principal in Hollis died from it just a few weeks ago, and thats pretty scary cause although my school is far far away in Manhattan, my house is only like only a VERY SHORT distance from Hollis. D: And the kids in Queens that had it at St. Francis Prep are RIGHT near too.. Agh. I mean, I'm not scared or anything, but its weird cause nothing like this has ever hit this close to home. You hear about katrina and shit, but all that stuff is so far away, and now its right here in NY ! D:
Anyway. So yeah. Free time. Its sort of stupid though, considering we only have a few weeks of school left anyway. But I'll take what I can get.
So I must ask you guys:
How many of you guys think that the premise of this story is ridiculous and unreasonable? I'm just curious.
I've had many people tell me that its a really original concept, to which I'm greatly appreciative of, but how many of you guys think its a distant, far-off concept?
I first thought about it when I read some very amusing fics; ones in which Fang finds Max's bra and it gets all awkward, or wierd occurances with puberty or hormones, like giving the sex talk to the kids. I read them, laughed, and then thought to myself, "wait, how do they know this stuff in the first place?" How does she know to wear a bra? Yeah, It makes sense for them to know with all reasonability, but (correct me if I'm wrong) they did live by themselves for two years, according to the books. Like two CRUCIAL years of their lives: 12, and 13. Jeb was only there for a short while, wasn't he? I dunno. I dunno. To me, its more reasonable that they had never ever gotten the sex talk, even though the books obviously don't allude to that, or the way my mind works.
Hey, who else has thought that the Maximum Ride series has a few plot holes? Things like the color of their hair, their lack of agingness in relation to the time continuum occurances, wierd things that don't make sense if you consider the whole Itex-bringing-down+Ann+The_Director+ stuff. I mean, I don't get how some stuff correlates to others. Don't get me wrong, I love the books--theyre great--but there are a few things that just dont.. connect. And I've always considered their whole actual adolescence thing to be another one of those things that just don't connect.
So the writing of this fic, is more like.. peace in my mind. I'm really OCD about things that jump from one thing to another (I mean J.P., you're the author and you're a great one at that, but you can't bother to remember their hair colors?! what image of those characters do you have in your mind when you write then?!?! ..unless your editor does it all for you.. oops).
So granted, theyre a tiny bit OC cause, well, I'm putting them in a different disposition and theyre not fully mature yet as we see them in the books, but how many of you guys think that this plot is like.. something utterly made up that which completely lacks any sense in relation to the MR universe? (and consequently that the characters are OC beyond being their actual character)? Cause I dunno.. if thats the case, then I'd be very sad =( I think its a reasonable plot.. T^T
p.s. Iggy will be addressed soon. Right now I'm working on Max + Fang development, but Iggy is still there, looming. Yeah, he will be addressed. Wait, review (because more pressure and more questions make me want to write faster and address those issues you guys ask about so often), and then you'll find out. =)