It's been a while since my last update, so I felt obligated to write this, but may I just tell you, typing in gloves is VERY hard. I keep pushing the wrong buttons. Oops. Well, I probably don't need gloves – I live in flipping California – but I wear them anyway, because I'm cold. I'm almost always cold. Maybe I'm cold-blooded?

Ch. 13:

Fang POV

I walked up to Max's large house and gaped, it was big. Huge, elegant, fancy, attention-seeking- all words I'd use to describe Max's house. Words I'd never use to describe Max. The thought struck me immediately- Lissa and Brigid, her stepsisters. They were the ones who matched this house.

When Max hadn't showed at school today, and the rest of the class had gotten time to work on their project, I had opted to show at her house. Maybe she didn't care about keeping up her grades, but I did. She could be sick, but I doubted it. She had been just fine yesterday.

I strode up to the door before knocking. A tall woman in her mid-40s probably opened up the door. Behind the botox, it was hard to pinpoint an age. This was Max's mom? Besides both having blond hair, they held no similar characteristics at all.

"Uh… hi." I said hesitantly. The woman didn't look very friendly…

She smiled, though. "And who may you be?"

"Fang Walker." I replied.

Her eyes widened. "Dating one of my daughters, aren't you? I can't remember which." She laughed airily. "Lissa or Brigid?" I tried not to recoil in disgust, there's more chance I'd date Max than Lissa or Brigid.

"Um… neither." I cleared my throat. "I'm here to see Max."

Her face hardened immediately. "Max is not allowed to date." She said automatically, as if on autopilot. I internally frowned at that, so Brigid and Lissa were allowed to date, but not Max? Hardly seemed fair, but who was I to judge? I barely knew any of them.

"I'm not her date, I'm her history project partner. She wasn't at school today, and we really need to get started on this."

"Oh." She said. "Well, I'm Anne, Max's… mother." She got out, as if it pained her to say that. "Max is sick today and-"

"I'll risk it."

"Excuse me?" She asked, taken aback.

"I said I'll risk it." I explained patiently. "I really need to hold up my grades if I want to keep my admittance to-" I shut up.

"Aren't you Jack's son?" She questioned. "I thought you were on football scholarship, though?" My jaw tightened.

"Grades are always important." I replied stiffly.

Anne huffed before complying, "Max's room is up the stairs and down the hall. Last door on the left." She told me just as stiffly, before gliding away with an air of superiority.

I followed the directions slowly, not wanting to get lost in what seemed like a maze of a house. Finally I found the door nicely marked, 'Max's room: Keep out'. That was an obvious sign for me to go in, of course.

Somehow, I got the feeling that if I knocked, she wouldn't open the door for me. And if she really was that sick, she wouldn't want to get out of bed.

I opened the door quietly and peered inside. Max wasn't hard to find- in fact; she stuck out like a sore thumb in this bedroom of pure gray. It seemed everything but Max, her backpack, her textbooks, and her computer were gray. Max was lying at her desk, her head in her arms; she looked peaceful, somewhat like a sleeping angel. Uh… erase that thought.

The point is, she didn't look sick at all. Perfectly healthy. I walked over with my quiet step, very hesitant to wake her up. I was reaching for her shoulders when I noticed something. There were dried tear trails on her cheeks. I stumbled backwards before landing in her chair with a thump.

At that point, though, I could've cared less about the noise I was making. It was impossible. Physically impossible. Maximum Ride didn't cry- she just didn't. What could've possibly made her cry like that? I stared in shock as she roused from her sleep.

She looked around cautiously until her eyes widened and landed on me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She yelped.

"We worked on our history project today in class. You weren't there. Your mom let me in so we could work." I responded automatically, my mind still reeling from the sight of Maximum Ride with tear trails.

"And you just came into my room? I'm sick!"

"You don't look sick." I analyzed.

"Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving." She muttered quietly, almost so that I couldn't hear her.

"Why were you crying?" I blurted.

She narrowed her eyes at me, as if searching for something. "I wasn't crying." She sneered, but I could tell it was lacking the usual venom.

I got up and walked over to her, plopping down on her bed right beside the computer desk.

"Then what are these?" I put my thumb up to her face and brushed the dried tear trails. Her eyes widened, and I could only assume she felt what I felt. I felt a jolt, a shock, almost like a… a spark. And I hadn't felt that way since I had touched Lost at the Halloween Dance. Immediately, at the thought of Lost, I dropped my hand. I loved Lost, not Maximum Ride.

"I lost my best friend." Max whispered, breaking me out of my reverie.

"The Iggy dude?" I asked.

She shook her head. "He's… he's… no one at school knows him."

"He's not a real friend if he stopped hanging with you." I told her honestly.

"No… I stopped talking with him. There's just no chance of us being friends anymore with what happened."

"What happened?" I asked curiously.

"We were going to go to college together." She smiled fondly. "He got in. I didn't. There's no chance." Her smile dropped, almost like it had never been there in the first place.

Immediately my thoughts snapped to Lost. Me and Max- we were in a similar predicament, only on opposite ends.

"I get it." I replied slowly, carefully choosing my words. "Cinderella and I wanted to go to Stanford together." I admitted in a rush. For some reason, I felt I could trust Max. She wasn't a gossip whore, and she had never done anything intentionally awful to me.

"Didn't you only know her for a night?" Max asked. Her voice sounded curious, though her expression was a resigned one, one that looked as if she had heard the story a million times.

I shook my head and continued. "We met online. And now, we can't go to Stanford together because she didn't get in. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop looking for her. I'm never going to stop looking for her."

Her head snapped up. Something I had said had struck her. She leaned over and hugged me. I felt the same jolt of electricity run through, but I pushed it aside as nothing. I had to reserve my feelings for Lost- for when I found her.

She pulled back quickly and her eyes snapped down. She was done showing feelings, which was a relief because I was too.

"Let's get started on this project." She cleared her throat and got to work reading.

I only half paid attention, my determination to work obliterated. I was lost in thoughts of Lost…

And much to my dismay, thoughts of Max.

So Fang gets some insight on Max's life. And he's still as bone-headed as ever, though. THE DUDE IS A FUDGING IDIOT.

Ahem.

Also, I just wanted to say that this story isn't going to be outrageously long because it is a Cinderella story. Once Fang figures it out and stops being an idiot, I'm not going to be the one to drag the story out and add in a million little obstacles to stop the Fax. Does anyone else get annoyed when an author drags a story out wayyy passed where they? Answer in a review, I'd like to know if anyone feels the same way. :/

Byeas,

~Cake.