This chapter's song is: Stab My Back by All-American Rejects
An hour later, we all settled down at the kitchen table, eating breakfast—Okay, I guess it was more like lunch, considering it was almost noon, but we were eating eggs, and bacon and pancakes… That's got to count for something, right? Today's agenda was thankfully mostly empty—Nudge had a softball end-of-season party at one, and then I'd made plans to go out to dinner with my mom, to show them Fang was back.
"Alright, everyone," I said, as we began clearing dishes. "We're leaving in twenty minutes, be ready to go by then." Nudge put her plate in the sink, and then frowned at me. "Why are we leaving so early? It only takes ten minutes to get to Mallory's, and the party doesn't start for an hour." I smirked at her. "We're picking up Jason, silly." Her frown deepened and her eyes flickered from Fang, to me, and back again. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. I whipped around and looked at Fang for a long moment, as if suddenly realizing he still existed. "They'll have to meet sometime or another." I said, turning back around. Fang, however, looked like a deer in the headlights. "Will someone please tell me who Jason is?" he sounded impatient. Good. Serves him right. Evil heartbreaking bastard…
"You'll meet him at the party." I said nonchalantly, without looking at him. "c'mon, Nudge, Ange, let's go get ready." The two skipped ahead of me, happier than I'd ever seen them. I felt that pang of jealousy shoot through me. Why couldn't I ever make them that happy? What was it about Fang that put them all back together? Why did he have the power to tear me to pieces, but bring everyone else closer?
Unspoken, the three of us filed into Nudge's room, Angel and I falling onto her orange-clad bed, and Nudge rifling through her closet, pulling out her spare jersey and a pair of jeans. She stripped off her pajamas and pulled a black under-armor shirt one, chattering all-the-while. "I can't believe Fang's back!" she gushed, pulling on her jeans. Angel migrated over to the vanity and began fiddling with Nudge's makeup stash. Nudge pulled her jersey over her head and examined herself in the mirror. I met her eyes in the reflection and winked. "Hottie," I smirked, making Nudge giggle. But she was—she was beautiful. She'd grown up, she was tall, and she was curvy, with bright black eyes and skin the color hot chocolate, with caramel-colored curly hair down past her shoulders. No longer was it the ratty mane it had been way back when… she'd taken to blow drying it, leaving it soft and curly and natural-looking.
The jersey she wore made he eyes and her hair stand out even more—Caribbean blue, with black studded "Bolts" and a black lightning bolt. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and I helped her tie a blue ribbon around it. She applied a little makeup—not nearly as much as she wore to school—a little eyeliner and some mascara, plus a little lip-gloss. "You look fine, Nudge," I said, as she struggled to fix her ribbon. She grinned slyly at me and we went into Angel's room.
Angel's was pink—pink walls, pink carpet, pink bedspread—you name it; it was pink. Angel's clothes were already laid out on her bed. Of course, Angel was going to look adorable—Angel always looked adorable. Angel pulled on a sparkly blue tank top, almost the same color of Nudge's jersey. She pulled black jeans and black sweater, then some black boots. I didn't let Angel wear any makeup—and she certainly didn't mean it. Apparently, the whitecoats had given her the no-acne-perfect-skin-and-super-long-eyelashes gene. And he boyfriend didn't think she needed makeup either, so she didn't argue. "Are you sure it's a good idea to bring Fang and Jason?" Nudge said suddenly, her eyes meeting mine above the magazine she was reading. I paused, blinking. "O-of course." I said quickly, "Why wouldn't it be?" I asked. Nudge raised her eyebrows. "Whatever you say, Maxie."
Angel brushed her hair straight and grinned wolfishly at me. "Time to get you ready, Max!" she said, smirking. "What? No!" I said quickly, "No one, but me is getting me ready!"
"Relax, Max." Nudge giggled. "We won't do anything but brush your hair, won't do your makeup. Just dress you. Please?"
"No dresses, no skirts, right?" I questioned, crossing my arms. "Promise!" Nudge exclaimed, wrapping her pinky around mine.
I stood in front of my full-length mirror, for once admiring Nudge's work. She held true to her word—I still wasn't wearing any makeup, but she'd brushed my straight hair out, leaving it straight and glossy—I hadn't let Nudge near my head in a long time—but there was no doubt about it, she worked wonders. And no dresses, no skirts either; just jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt, with a black tank-top underneath. I never really wore this shirt—I was convinced it was too small—it rode up on my belly, usually showing at least an inch of skin. But Nudge made it look okay, with a pair of jeans and a silver belt, black Chucks, and my blue zippered sweatshirt.
"Max, you should dress like this more often," Angle commented, from where she lay on my bed, rifling through my CD cases. "You really do look great, and not even that girly either." Nudge nodded vigorously her agreement as she pinned a few pieces of hair back. "You really do look good. Fang—I mean, Jason—is gonna love it." I arched one eyebrow at her in my reflection. "Fang?" I questioned, scowling. "Sorry," she said quickly, "I meant Jason."
I sighed and stood up. "You guys ready to go?" I asked. Angel reached over to my nightstand and handed me my purse. "Nudge," I said, as I looped it over my shoulder. "Can you drive the car? You take Gazzy and Angel, and whichever friend we're picking up. I'll take Dyl, Ig, Fang, and Jase in the truck."
Angel cracked a small smile. "Are you sure? I think you might suffocate with all that testosterone in the car." I laughed out loud. "Well then you'll have to come save me, won't you?" I mocked, wrapping her up in a hug. She giggled again and we walked back downstairs. The guys were sprawled out on the couch, talking about God-knows-what. "Time to load up," I said, clapping my hands. We filed into the front yard one by one. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of black—black wings. "Fang, you idiot," I cried, elbowing him sharply. "Put 'em away. We're driving, stupid." He quickly pulled them back in, but stared at me questioningly. "Around here, we're normal. We're… not the flock." I sighed, realizing he didn't know our fake names, didn't know our 'story'.
"All you need to know is that Dr. M adopted us all a few years ago. You can be… you used to be in the orphanage with us." I supplied quickly, "And you're visiting with us for a little while. And as for the names, you're not Fang, Got it? You're Nick. I'm Mackenzie. Dylan is… Dylan. Iggy is Jeffrey. Nudge is Tiffany. Gasman is Justin, Angel is Angelica. Get it? Got it? Good." I didn't give him time to answer.
A small pause followed. "Mackenzie?" he asked quietly, arching one eyebrow, his lips twitching with a smile. "Yes," I growled. "Got a problem with it?" He shook his head and started to climb into the passenger seat of the truck. I shook my head and jerked my head to the backseat. He sighed and looked at me for a long, exasperated moment. He climbed in. Iggy sat in the middle, probably guessing that Dylan and Fang sitting next to each other probably wasn't wise. The younger kids got into the other car, and we were off.
Ten minutes later, we pulled into Jason's driveway. He wasn't on the porch, where he usually waited. I could almost feel the tension growing in the car, most of it wafting off Fang… what was up with him? I beeped the horn and Jason game jogging out. I smiled at him as he climbed in and leaned over the center console to kiss my cheek. "Hey, beautiful," he grinned, then buckled his seatbelt. I admired for a moment, the way the sun danced on his olive skin, the way it turned his long, dark hair a deep purple.
I couldn't remember exactly why Jason and I started dating… But when I first saw him, I just felt this odd pang of recognition, like I'd known him my whole life. He's looked so familiar, so like something I felt that I'd grown up with—and I'd never been able to figure out what.
"Who's this?" Fang asked, through clenched teeth. I whipped around, as did Jason, who only just noticed Fang sitting just behind him. "F-Nick," I said—I heard Iggy cracking up, and I smiled too, remembering all the Fnick jokes—"This is Jason, my, uh, my boyfriend." Fang stiffened and his face stoned over. "Jason, this is… Nick… He's my… he's my—um, my best friend. He was with us when we were back in the schoo—orphanage. The orphanage."