Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride or any characters associated with the story.

Chapter 13: You Know How Much I Hate Pot Holes

"Fang! Are you alright?" I rushed over to his side.

"Fish balls…" he groaned and rolled onto the ground.

"Fish balls?!" Mr. Danny exclaimed as he scurried over. "My gosh… Max, I think you better bring Fang back or to the hospital. Those witches! I shouldn't have brought you people there. He went missing there right? I bet that was the work of the witches…"

Kind of slow today, are we, Mr. Danny?

"Is everything alright?" a little boy's voice piped up. I looked up and met eyes with… the little kid I saw with Fang and Iggy that day. Wait, the Gasman, I think. Yeah. He was licking an ice cream.

"Hi Gazzy," I said and returned my attention to Fang. Wait a second… "Gazzy?! What're you doing here?"

"I'm enjoying nature."

"More like ruining it with your unfortunate occurances…" Fang mumbled below me. Oh good he was awake.

"Fang! Are you alright?" I asked him. He squinted his eyes at me and smiled faintly. Then he started groaning again.

"Fish balls…" Fang muttered.

What is with him?! One moment he's smiling and the next he's rolling on the ground as if it was nobody's business! Did those witches inject him with something or what?

"Do you want to eat some fish balls? I think I have some leftovers from the barbeque! It's in the fridge in my chalet."

"You still keep leftovers?" I scrunched up my nose. Ew. Fang made a weird noise, rolled over and threw up.

"Here, I'll gather everyone and we'll go back," Mr. Danny said, worried.

"And do you have anything to entertain them with for the whole afternoon?" I questioned, an eyebrow raised.

"Um," he hesitated. "I could dance for them. I learn ballet!" Mr. Danny started prancing around, doing pirouettes and whatnot.

You're real lucky you didn't get to see that. My poor eyes. Thank goodness there weren't any people walking around in this part. It would be total humiliation.

"That'd be a total waste of tomatoes," I snorted.

"Why would they need tomatoes? Ballet is a form of art using the body itself. There's no need for tomatoes," Mr. Danny protested.

"To throw at you," I said. He rolled his eyes. Fang shifted below me. Oh dang.

"Alright, here's my key. Bring him back and get him some fishballs, if that's what he wants."

"Yeah alright. Thanks."

My form teacher helped to hail a cab and we both labored to haul Fang into it. Well, he just cheered me on. Moral support, according to him. The dork.

After I supported Fang into the cab, Mr. Danny passed me some money to pay for the fare. I got in and slammed the door shut. Mr. Danny's worried face appeared pressed at the window. I nodded to him and smiled wearily and the cab left.

I gagged. Ew. Face oil on the window.

I looked out the window as the scenery flashed past. My mind started to wander as I thought about the past few days. It had been great, but tiring. I had had more laughs during this outing compared to the past fourteen years of my life before the twenty-third of April this year. And I had gotten closer to my classmates and Fang.

I smiled, bemused when I remembered objecting violently against this whole class chalet.

"You're beautiful when you smile like that," Fang's voice interrupted my train of thoughts. Startled, I turned to meet the sight of a perfectly fine Fang whose sides of lips were twitching.

"Um. Okay," I said. "You're alright now?"

"I was alright from the start," he chuckled quietly. I frowned.

"From the start?"

"From the start," he repeated.

"As in, after the witches left?

"Yeah."

"And when you started moaning about fishballs?"

"Yeah."

"You mean, you were faking it all the time?!" I exclaimed.

He nodded absently. Geez, I never knew my best friend was this cunning. But why would he be pretending in the first place?

"But what for?" I asked. "You made me worry for no reason, you ass!" I burst.

Fang, who was sitting at the other window seat, looked at me straight in the eye. He moved next to me and leaned forward so that his nose was almost touching mine. I didn't move. I could barely even breathe. My heart started thumping unevenly again. Dang. I dug my fingers into the seat.

"How was I going to get you alone again?" he whispered.

The taxi driver must be so entertained. Or disgusted. Whatever. Why do I even care? Why am I even thinking about the taxi driver when Fang's face was just freaking inches from mine?!

Fang pulled back and smiled to himself again. He's sure becoming some happy kid these few days.

I blushed furiously.

"What was that about?" I whispered, not wanting the taxi driver to hear.

He shrugged.

"What're you smiling about?" I said, annoyed. I could still feel the heat on my face.

"You were worried," he stated simply.

I didn't bother to ask. Fang was getting stranger and stranger every day.

"What's that?" Fang suddenly said, pointing to the oil marks on the window.

"You don't want to know. That's Mr. Danny's f – "

Fang leaned over and stretched his arm to the window. I pushed myself back a little. Come on. Look where his arm is! Too close for comfort, if you know what I mean.

Then, the cab ran over a pot hole and Fang and I jolted. And what happened next made me go a shade of red darker than a tomato.

Why does it seem like everything is against me right now?

I FREAKING HATE POT HOLES!

Fang's face was as red as beetroot as he retreated as far as he could away from me.

"Sorry," he muttered.

I grunted.

I looked at the rearview mirror. The taxi driver was grinning to himself. Heat crept up my face again.

The uncomfortable silence was overbearing, but it went on like that till we reached the chalet. Fang didn't look at me directly, but I would always see him look at me from the corner of his eyes. Then we would lock glances, and look out the window again.

Talk about freaking awkward.