I suck, I know. You can think it, I'll say it. I'm really, really sorry for the infrequent updates.

But once again can I remind you reviews make me update faster...? I love the reviews I'm getting, but I haven't been getting as much as I used to :( I know, you guys like spoiled me and now I'm used to getting a lot of reviews from totally freaking amazing readers.

Alright, I was totally going to make this longer. But I'm going to Hershey Park from Friday into Saturday with the music program at my school (yiipppeee!) And the luggage drop is on Thursday. Which means I will probably be stuck packing all night tomorrow night, because I take forever to pack. Even if it's just for a couple days. And Thursday, I will non-stop be practicing with Pepe Bernardo Dave (my flute, my friend nicknamed it that). So this is early and kinda short and sucky cause of that.

My friends make fun of me because I can't burp (and have never, not once, EVER, burped) and because I have small feet. This makes me sad. :(

Disclaimer: Pepe Bernardo Dave wants to own Maximum Ride. He doesn't. Niether do I.

Max POV

Y'know, sometimes I feel more like a twenty-something actress in a movie about someone in high school rather than a fifteen-year-old kid that actually does attend high school.

But that's pretty much completely off topic.

I really hate days when there's a football game after school. Then I have to wear my uniform to school, and the football players wear their uniform jerseys, and they pretty much feel like it's their duty to hit on all the cheerleaders on game days. I always feel like a retarded horse with my hair up in a ponytail that's always way too neat because Ella does it. The Under Armor turtleneck gets pretty annoying and too warm when the classrooms are overly heated. Normally the Under Armor wouldn't be necessary in Florida, but we were having an unusually cold winter.

So yeah, game days suck.

I walked down the hall with Carolyn, feeling like a big old retarded spotlight was trained on me as a twisted the dial to my locker. Carolyn leaned on the wall next to me with a sigh, fidgeting uncomfortably. I glanced at her questioningly out of the corner of my eye.

"What's wrong?" I asked, finally wrestling my locker open.

"I dunno. . ." she muttered, picking at her manicure.

"Just spit it out, Carolyn," I said, getting kinda impatient. I was not one known for being benevolent and cheery when wearing a skirt. "It's really obvious something's on your mind."

"Lissa's talking about you," she blurted. "Non stop. All morning. Apparently she saw you and Fang after school on Friday, but like what are the odds of that, right? She's just being jealous and making things up. So anyway she was talking really bad about you during math and I dunno I wasn't sure if I should tell you and hurt your feelings or just keep it to myself and let it be worse when someone else told you."

I wasn't really sure how to reply to everything, so I started simple. "You didn't hurt my feelings."

"That's good."

"I did see Fang on Friday," I said slowly.

"Really? After practice?" She sounded suspicious.

I closed my locker gently, my mind racing. "Yeah. He surprised me after school cause he got out kinda early."

"Oh. Okay. So did you guys fight or anything?" Carolyn watched my face closely as we started walking again.

"No." I frowned. Then something dawned on me. "Oh, wait, Lissa's making up rumors that we got into a fight and we might break up just to make waves. Am I right?" Carolyn shrugged and nodded as we swerved into math. "Predictable," I muttered as I settled into my seat in the back of the classroom.

Math couldn't hold my attention for very long. As soon as the class was over, Carolyn and I split up; she had computers while I had art. I ambled down the hallway, not in any rush to get to art; I was pretty much done with my project, and we still had three more class periods to complete it. I wasn't in a rush to get there early.

That's when I discovered that Sam seriously wasn't the kinda dorky, quiet, clueless guy he'd been on his first day. He'd turned into one of Lissa's jerky boyfriends.

He was leaning up against a row of lockers with his arm over her shoulders, talking with a couple other jocks and some of Lissa's prissy friends. Every few seconds Lissa would tilt her face up and Sam would kiss her. It was pretty disgusting to watch. Just as I turned to take a quick detour down the nearest hallway, Sam looked up. He saw me, I knew he did. He didn't acknowledge me in any way, but I could tell that he knew I was disappointed in how he'd turned out at this school.

I turned on my heel and headed down the hall. It would take me an extra five minutes to get to art if I went this way, but it would be worth it. I could only imagine what Lissa would say to me if I walked past their group and she saw me, and I really didn't feel like dealing with her.

I did end up getting to art kinda late, but Sam was even later than I was. I finished my project before he even came in, because he was at least ten minutes later than I was. He gave Miss Kenkel a pass (probably forged or something) to excuse him being late because of a "locker jam." When he sat down, I infestimally shifted my stool away from him. Since I was done with my project, I was allowed to free sketch, draw whatever I wanted.

"Hi, Max," he said politely. I tilted my head ever so slightly towards him, nodding curtly. We worked in silence for a few minutes, before he cleared his throat. "So, I didn't know you were on the cheerleading squad."

"Well, I am," I said sharply. I didn't like his tone; it was like he'd assumed I was incapable of making the squad.

"Okay," he said. "Something wrong?"

I set down my pencil, reminding myself to stay completely calm and think about what I was saying before I said something I'd regret. "We really don't have to make small talk, okay? It's totally pointless, because we're not friends. I don't care if there are empty, awkward gaps in what I guess you could call 'conversation'." So much for staying calm.

He seemed surprised. "I'm sorry, did I miss something? Did I do or say something that upset you or offended you in some way?"

I frowned. "I'm not typically friends with two-faced people."

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

"You act one way when you're in class, around me, and then you act like a real douche around Lissa and her gang of servants."

"How do I act like a douche?"

I pressed my pencil hard against the paper I was drawing on. "You act like everyone is beneath your notice. You saw me. I know you did. And usually, when you're not around Lissa, you smile or wave or something. But not now. You've completely gotten sucked into the pretty polished popular people." I just shook my head, trying to cool down.

"Max-" Sam started, but I calmly cut him off.

"Please, just don't push it further, okay? I just. . .don't want to be friends. You're okay with that, right?" I didn't expect an answer, so I was surprised when he replied.

"No," he said, acting confused. "I don't want to. . .not be friends." He sounded like he was trying to sum it up in his head.

We both looked at our papers while we talked. "So you want to be friends?" I asked, as confused as he was now.

"Yeah," he said. "Why wouldn't I want to be friends?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think the more important question is why would you want to be friends with me."

"You remind me of my best friend, back home at my old school. You're a lot like her; you're not afraid to speak your mind, you don't care what people think about you, stuff like that. She was fearless." He smiled a little. "So yeah, you're a lot alike."

"Spare me the touching monologue," I snorted, and instantly felt bad. He hadn't said anything bad.

"That's what I mean," he said, barely supressing a smile.

I shook my head and bent closer to my paper, trying to hide a smile of my own.

A few minutes later, maybe ten or so, I don't actually know, Sam spoke again. "So, friends?"

"Maybe," I said and hated that my slight smile was in my voice.

When the bell rang, I didn't look at Sam, I just packed up my stuff. But as soon as I was out of the classroom, he was there, walking beside me to lunch.

"Um," I muttered, reaching up to tuck my hair behind my ear before remembering the whole ponytail thing. "What are you doing?"

"We're not allowed to walk to lunch together?"

"No, we can." I bit my lip.

"So, I'm coming to the game after school," he said hesitantly, glancing down at me to see my reaction.

I just shrugged. "Okay. That's cool, I guess. But you're coming for Lissa, so whatever."

"I'm coming to see the game. Lissa thinks I'm coming for her."

"Please," I scoffed. "You're coming for Lissa."

He shook his head and smiled softly. He looked like he was about to say something, but I interupted.

"I gotta go," I murmured, glancing over at my table. Gazzy was waving at me like he was preparing to set sail on the Titanic. "I gotta go see what he wants. He never places that much importance on anything, so either the bathroom is out of toilet paper and he wants me to sneak him into the girls' bathroom, or it's something actually important." To my surpise, Sam laughed. I gave him a strange look as I walked away, over to my table.

"What is it this time, Gasser?" I sighed, plopping down in my seat. "Lemme guess: boys' bathroom is out of toilet paper."

"No," he said, then paused. "And if it was, you wouldn't sneak me into the girls' bathroom anyway. You didn't last time."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "That's probably pretty accurate." When he didn't say anything, I motioned impatiently at him. "So, get on with it. What was so urgent?"

"Oh. Nothing, really. It just looked like you were annoyed that Douchey Sam was bothering you, so I decided to help you out. You're welcome," he said, looking proud. I wasn't really sure what to say. My friends obviously didn't like Sam, and I wasn't about to make them look down on me for uttering the impossible "he's not really that bad." It made me sound like a wuss, but it was the truth.

High school is turning me into a complete wuss.

"I saw you."

I turned around and squinted at Lissa. "Huh?"

"I saw you talking to Sam," she said. She seemed calm for once, which was an improvement. "Don't talk to him anymore."

"He was talking to me," I said truthfully, then shrugged. "Tell him not to talk to me. It's not always my fault."

"Whatever." She disdainfully eyed me. "So, how's your lover boy?"

I folded my arms over my chest. I hadn't planned on getting belligerent with her today, but she was seriously asking for it now. "Fang," I said, over enunciating his name, "is fine."

"Good to hear." She smirked.

"You know, I can see through you," I blurted. I don't know why I said it, but once I started, I couldn't stop. "You're only mean because you're insecure. And I realize that's the most common thing in the world these days. But seriously. I know for a fact that you hated it when you lost Fang. But God forbid you even consider showing anything other than the act you constantly put on."

Lissa opened her mouth to reply, then closed it and slowly composed her expression. "I'm tired of fighting with you," she said evenly.

"I couldn't agree more," I countered, matching her tone.

Her lips tightened and she carefully held out her hand. "I'm willing to start over if you are."

I stared at her suspiciously. "Okay, what brought this on?"

She sighed. "I'm just tired of fighting with people. I'm tired of turning every corner and having a bunch of people glare at me. I just want high school to be as smooth of a ride as possible. So I want to start over. Starting now."

"Okayyyy. . ." I said, drawing out the word. "Let's start over." I cautiously took her hand and shook it, like I was scared it was gonna explode.

"Good." Lissa's green eyes sparkled. "Thanks, Max, you won't regret this!" She bounded away so merrily that I wondered what kind of medicine she was taking.

I shut my locker and hooked my backpack more firmly over my shoulder, making my way towards the door. I wondered if I'd regret what I'd just done.

I told you. It completely sucks.

Pleeease review. Otherwise I will not have an extraordiHarry, amaZayn, phenomiNiall, brilLiam, fabuLouis, and 1Derful time at Hershey.

All those Directioners out there, I feel you, bro.

Say bye to the world Pepe Bernardo Dave.

Pepe Bernardo Dave: The world can kiss my high G sharp.

He's not very sociable. And I've been antisocial for the last week because I only talk to my flute.

-dancerxforlifex3