DEDICATED TO: FANGirlforFANG, my 300th reviewer! Along with… Wingz-and-a-Fez, 'cause you made me smile. =P Thanks to everyone who reviewed, too! I love you all! =D

PurpleTea88, you're right about the prefixes like Mr. and Mrs. and Dr. needing periods after, but I write on my iPod notes, so if you put a period after something it automatically capitalizes the next word, and you have to uncapitalize it. That gets annoying, so I just do Mr and Mrs, and hope no one will notice.

Gazzy; You do realize that makes no sense, don't you TMI?

...

...

-thinks deeply-

...

…

Aww, dammit! I feel stupid now. Thanks Gaz.

Gazzy: -smirks- anytime.

FPOV

I was half-supporting Gazzy as we walked into school, tired and freshly bruised from our usual pre-school scrimmage. Gazzy and Lucas had had a bit of a collision when they were both going for the ball, and Gazzy was nursing a heavily bruised knee. Lucas had come off with a nicely purpled abdomen, but he could walk perfectly fine.

Gazzy, however, was limping very badly. His left knee was a light magenta and slightly puffy under his blue basketball shorts, It was obviously giving him a lot of trouble, despite his assurances that he was fine. Gazzy leaned all his weight on my shoulders when he took a step with his left leg, and was still wincing visibly. "Nurse?" I asked again, for probably the fifteenth time.

Gazzy shook his head violently. "No! I might not get to play in the game tomorrow if the school finds out I'm hurt," Gazzy breathed, concentrating on taking large strides with his good leg.

I decided not to point out the fact that his teachers would most definitely notice he was hurt. I went for a different tactic instead. "If you don't get it checked, you could seriously hurt yourself," I replied reasonably.

Gazzy set his jaw and stopped walking. I could feel his grip tightening on my shoulder as he turned his head to glare at me. "Fang S. Rianild, if you were the cripple in this situation, I know for a fact you would be arguing the same way as I am. So stuff it already! I'm not going to the freaking nurse!"

I shrugged, continuing to walk without another word about seeing the nurse. It was true: if I had been hurt and Gazzy suggested the nurse, I would've bolted, crippled or otherwise.

We were ten minutes early for homeroom today, since we had to stop our scrimmage early because of Gazzy and Lucas' injuries. I took Gazzy straight to his locker, practically lifting him every other step. His knee was bruised pretty badly, but he didn't say a word. The only way I could tell he was hurting was the way his jaw kept tightening, and his slight flinching every time he stepped on his left leg. I waited patiently as Gazzy fumbled with his locker, umzipping his backpack and handing him his binders to stow away. Gazzy looked at me briefly, then accepted the help. "Thanks," he mumbled. I nodded in reply, leaning back against the lockers and studying the ceiling as he continued to store his stuff.

"You didn't have to wait for me," Gazzy remarked suddenly, shutting his locker door with a quiet click. "I can get to homeroom okay."

I raised an eyebrow. "Take a step," I challenged, my voice neutral. Gazzy scowled at me, but complied and stepped forward with his right leg. His stride was confident and strong.

"See?" Gazzy tightened his grip on his binder, smiling slightly in
triumph. "I can walk just fine."

"Other leg." I continued to watch him, letting no emotion onto my face. Gazzy's smile flickered, and slowly melted back into a scowl.

"Fine," he muttered rebelliously. "I can walk perfectly well." Gazzy took a breath in, then stepped carefully onto his left leg.

Immediately, his knee buckled, and he screwed up his eyes in silent pain. I lunged forward to catch him before he hit the floor, grabbing him under his arms. However, Gazzy swatted my hands away, and plopped loudly onto the linoleum. Everyone in the hallway turned to look at the commotion he was creating, but Gazzy didn't seem to notice nor care. He was scowling like a child, and crossing his arms over his chest.

I fought the urge to laugh, quickly swallowing the feeling and remaining calm. Instead, I knelt next to Gazzy, collecting the wayward supplies that had flown from his arms during his attempt to walk. When I offered Gazzy his stuff, he snatched it and continued to scowl at the opposite bank of lockers. I silently held out my hand to help him up, but he continued to ignore my actions.

I rolled my eyes: Gazzy could be somewhat of a drama queen. In fact, sometimes he was worse than Iggy, and that was saying something. I guess it was part of the job description for superstar forwards that he had to be a bit of a primadonna sometimes. Hell, I could even admit to my own bouts of primadonna-ness.

But I still kick ass at soccer, so that's okay.

"Gaz, get up," I ordered. Gazzy continued to pout, and showed no sign of acknowledgement towards the fact I had just spoken. "Gazzy," I repeated.

Gazzy didn't move.

I sighed, and adjusted the straps on my backpack before swooping down and grabbing him roughly under his arms. I dragged him upwards and looped my arm around his shoulders again. Gazzy scowled at me, finally recognizing my existence once more. "Fang," he growled.

"Gazzy," I replied calmly.

We stared each other down for a moment, not breaking eye contact. Finally, Gazzy's fingers began twitching uncontrollably, and I knew I'd won. He can't stay still for longer than two minutes, that boy.

"Fine," Gazzy muttered finally, looking away and beginning to fiddle with the fringing cover on his binder. I smiled slightly, then proceeded to help him to his homeroom. "Room nine," Gazzy instructed, his gaze on the floor in front of him. I nodded in reply, turning down the according hallway.

We traveled in silence, Gazzy avidly staring down his shoelaces, and I navigating. It was pride-injuring to Gazzy to need my help to walk, and I knew that. It was the same with me when I got hurt, and the same way with Max also.

A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips at the memory of my first day with Maximum Ride. She had been rather interesting at school, achieving instant friendship with practically everyone in my circle.
That rarely happened. Max had been exactly the right combination of tolerance, wit, and soccer fanatic to slide into place with my friends.

I had been surprised to see her show up at my house that night, but of course I easily hid the emotion from my face. Max, of course, was not as successful. The look on her face was priceless when she realized it was my mom who had invited her family for dinner. Mom mentioned to me that the Martinez family was coming to eat with us, but I hadn't realized that Max Ride was part of the Martinez family in the first place.

When we had played soccer after dinner, Max surprised me yet again. I had seen her running in PE, and realized she was fast. I had watched her playing soccer with Gazzy and his friends, and it was clear that she was good.

What I hadn't realized was how good or how fast Max truly was.

Max wouldn't let up at all during our short one versus one. She kept me on my toes, and I had to pull out all my best moves to keep possession. Yet still, she had beaten me at my own game.

Then again, it was obviously her game too.

Gazzy kept reminding me of how Max had acted when she hurt herself that day. Even though Max had been obviously unable to walk, she insisted on trying several times. Even when it was proven she couldn't take a proper step forward, she wasn't happy about me carrying her. Gazzy's actions had almost exactly mirrored the ones Max had displayed that day. It was an interesting thought.

"Here," I announced, depositing Gazzy next to the door of room nine. "Who's in your homeroom that I can talk to?" I asked.

Gazzy raised an eyebrow, but answered. "Well, Iggy's in Mr. Sampson's class too."

"Is he in any other of your classes?" I continued, opening the door and helping Gazzy inside.

Gazzy hobbled up the aisle and sat down in his seat before replying. He was the fourth or fifth inside, and Iggy was nowhere to be seen. "Igs is in my first and last period classes," Gazzy informed me. "Why?"

"I just want someone to help you to your classes," I replied smoothly. Gazzy began to scowl again, so I quickly cut him off. "Look, I don't want you getting detentions for being late to all your classes, 'cause then you won't get to go to practice or the games this week." I internally congratulated myself on thinking of the thing that would force him to accept the help to class. He wouldn't dare interfere with his chances to play soccer. "Make sure someone helps you to class, Gaz," I repeated for good measure.

Gazzy frowned sullenly at his desk for a moment, his fingers swiftly braiding and unbraiding his binder's fringe. "Fine," he agreed finally. "I don't want to get detention, I guess."

"Good." That was easier than I thought it would be. "Who else could help you?" I leaned forward on his desk, shifting my backpack restlessly. I would need to sprint to be on time for homeroom myself, with all the extra time I was using up.

Gazzy thought for a moment. "Well, Igs can help me from homeroom to math," he started. "Then, I can get Terra and Nudge to help me to PE. They have history in the room next to my math class," he added as way of explanation. "And then I guess Terrs could help me from PE to history, even though she has art third period. She doesn't care about being late to class."

"True," I agreed. Terra didn't have anything to lose, since all the teachers loved her. They probably wouldn't mind if she showed up to class half an hour late. They would just be upset not to have had her presence in their class for the time she had missed. "I'll take you from history to your next class," I offered.

Gazzy nodded. "And you can probably pass me off to Nudge halfway. She's in my English class fourth period," he replied.

"Hey Gaz! Sup Fang? Why are you in Mr. Sampson's class? Did Miss James get tired of your little gentleman act and kick you out?" Iggy asked, flopping down with pinpoint precision in the seat next to Gazzy's.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fact that Iggy couldn't appreciate the gesture. "Gaz got clobbered in soccer this morning," I explained. "We're trying to find a way to transport him to his classes."

"Ah, I see. You idiotic soccer diehards," Iggy commented, leaning back in his chair. "I'll arrange the details, Fangy-boy. I suggest you should run along to your classes though. You have four minutes."

"Crap," I hissed, glancing at my watch. Like Iggy said, it read 8:06, which meant I was in trouble. Without another word I was down the aisle and out the door, passing swiftly by a bemused-looking Mr. Sampson.

"He really needs to work on his exits," I heard Iggy say to Gazzy. Rolling my eyes, I sprinted down the hallway. I skidded to an abrupt stop outside my locker and rattled the numbers to my combination lock in record time. As soon as the door swung open, I hurriedly stuffed my backpack in my locker and pulled out my science and English binders. Abruptly, my art binder flew out, sending sketches flying everywhere.

"Crap, crap, crap, crappety crap," I muttered, crouching down to quickly gather the drawings. I carefully slid them all back into the pockets, trying not to wrinkle my work. Then I flung the binder back into my locker, slammed the door shut, and raced to Miss James' room.

Once safely inside, I speedwalked up the aisle to my desk in the back. Max was already seated, and she was smirking at me in way of greeting. I shot her a bored look in return as I fell into my chair. No less than ten seconds later, the bell rang.

"Close one," Max commented, her smirk turning into a grin. "Did your game run long?"

Max knew that several of us played a scrimmage before school everyday, but she had never decided to join us yet. Despite all of Gazzy's pleading and my prodding, Max simply refused to show up. Her various excuses were she had to walk Ella to school, she had too much homework to finish before class, her knees were sore and she didn't want to strain them... The list went on and on.

Ella told us she just didn't want to wake up earlier than already forced to. Apparently Max wasn't a morning person.

"Nah, we stopped playing early, actually," I replied, fiddling with my pencil.

Max frowned. "Then why were you late?"

Max looked strangely upset by my tardiness today. Her eyes were sparking with a tiny bit of suppressed anger, also, which confused me. "Gazzy got hurt, and I had to help him to his homeroom," I explained slowly, wondering if Max was going to start yelling or something.

Thankfully, as soon as I spoke, the anger died out of her expression. Now Max seemed almost embarrassed. "Oh," she muttered, not meeting my eyes for a moment. "Okay then. That's fine."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "Where did you think I was?" I asked, curious to her sudden mood change.

"I, umm, nevermind," Max stuttered, looking refreshingly ruffled. Max never seemed to get embarrassed, so this was a nice change. Suddenly, though, Max dropped the stutter and looked concerned. "You said Gazzy got hurt? Will he be okay for tomorrow?" she demanded.

I shrugged. "Gaz will play tomorrow, and I can guarantee that."

Max was silent for a moment, weighing this. She sighed ruefully, grinning again. "Good point. I can't picture Gazzy missing the first game of the season," Max admitted.

I nodded, satisfied that she understood what I meant. "Exactly."

We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the rest of the announcements. As soon as the droning voice on the loudspeaker clicked off, Lissa turned around in her seat and started pouting at me. I sighed inwardly, steeling myself for her daily bouts of idiocy.

"Yes, Lissa?" I asked resignedly. Max snorted, crossing her arms. I could see her beginning to scowl out of the corner of my eye. Max really detested Lissa for some reason, even more so than my other friends. She would never explain her hatred for my ex-girlfriend, though, besides her obvious stupidity and flirtatiousness.

"Fangy," she whined, widening her eyes at me. "Have you been seeing other girls? Is that why you're always late to homeroom now?"

My jaw literally dropped. I stared at Lissa incredulously, wondering where the girl even got these ideas. "Umm, what?" I managed to say, my voice miraculously still calm.

"Are you meeting up with other girls? You are, aren't you!" Lissa accused, pointing one shiny pink fingernail at me. "How dare you!"

Before I could think of a proper response to that statement, Max cut in. "Excuse me, Lissy," she started, smiling poisonously. "But I highly doubt Fang's love life is any of your beeswax. He could be kissing a different girl before homeroom everyday and you wouldn't need to know. So buzz off."

Lissa glared at Max, who simply glared right back. Finally, she huffed prissily and got out of her chair. Her deskmate, David, looked disappointed by Lissa's departure. However, Max seemed positively thrilled.

"She's gone!" Max cheered. "Break out the ice cream! We need to celebrate, Fang!"

I had to smile at that. "Max, Miss James' classroom sadly does not have any ice cream," I informed her.

Max closed her eyes dramatically, sinking back in her chair in a dejected sort of way. "I can't go on," she breathed. "I need my Ben & Jerry's! Now!"

"What flavor?" I asked, momentarily distracted.

Max popped back up in her chair, grinning once more. "Cherry Garcia, of course! That's the best one!"

I shook my head at her solemnly. "No, young Maximum, you are mistaken," I intoned. I let out a huge, regretful sigh. "You must go with the way of AmeriCone Dream!"

"AmeriCone Dream?" Max asked, sounding slightly confused. "I haven't heard of that one before."

"Best. Flavor. Ever," I assured her seriously. "There's chocolate-covered waffle cone bits, and-"

Abruptly, the bell rang, cutting off my explanation of the deliciousness known as AmeriCone Dream. Max hopped up out of her chair, her spat with Lissa thankfully forgotten. I followed Max quietly out of homeroom, smiling to myself as she led the way confidently to science class. I still remembered her first day at Cromwell, when she kept getting lost. Now Max was an old pro at finding classes. It was interesting how quickly she adapted to the school. I rarely heard her mention anything about her life in Nevada, and she didn't seem to regret moving one iota.

I was secretly happy about that. I liked having Max around.

Once we arrived in science, I made my way towards the desk Terence and I shared, while Max plopped into her seat beside JJ. JJ was already seated, but Terence wasn't here yet, so I busied myself copying down the homework in my planner. Mr. Lundom smiled genially at us, but didn't say anything. He seemed rather wary of Max since that day she was biting everybody's heads off, and he never seemed quite comfortable with me or JJ, for some reason.

Science flew by, and soon I found myself in my usual window seat in Ms. Niota's class. Iggy was a little late, so I had to place my binder on the seat I reserved for him. Unfortunately, it was necessary. Before I put the binder on his chair, several girls had already attempted to sit down in it.

I ignored the put out looks I was attracting from the female population of my English class, instead gazing intently out the window. I could see the PE class straggling out to the track, most of them looking mutinous. However, the faces I was looking for- Max, Gazzy, Nudge, or Terra- were all conspicuously absent from the crowd. The more I searched, the more evident it became that none of them were there at all.

Finally, a smaller group of people followed the class to the track. Squinting through the window, I could make out Mr. Tulney, swarmed by my friends, and Gazzy being supported by Nudge and Terra. Max appeared to be arguing with Mr. Tulney, who didn't look like he anywhere near agreeing with her. I wondered what they could be arguing so heatedly about so early in the class.

"Hi Fangles," Iggy greeted me enthusiastically, sitting down on my binder with a loud crunching noise. Alarmed, he hopped back up again, staring at me with his pale blue eyes. "Hey! What was that?" Iggy demanded.

"My binder," I replied, collecting my smashed possession from its perilous duty as seat marker. "I put it there to save your seat."

Iggy snorted, feeling the seat with his hand before sitting down again. "Gee, thanks. Your binder doesn't make a very nice cushion."

"Is your ass too sensitive?" I remarked, inspecting the crunched cover of my binder for damage. It appeared to be okay, apart from a bent edge and a crease on the front.

"Yes, actually," Iggy replied primly, folding his hands in an exaggerated impersonation of our principal. "I have a very sensitive ass, you know."

"Lovely," I shot back, peering out the window again. "How's Gaz?"

Iggy's expression changed instantly from one of mockery to one of sympathy. "Ooch, the poor boy is in pain," he informed me. "I practically carried him from homeroom. When I dropped him off with Nudge and Terra, it sounded like they were trying to act as human crutches in order to carry him." Iggy cracked his knuckles loudly, then grinned. "Personally, I think Terra should have just given him a piggy-back ride," he whispered impishly. "I can't understand why Gazzy doesn't believe us when we say that she likes him."

"Mm," I grunted, trying to bypass the matchmaker garbage Iggy was always so weirdly interested in. He got creepy when you encouraged him in that kind of conversation. Instead I went with the safe route of soccer. "Does it look like he'll play tomorrow?"

Iggy snorted.

"Does it look like Anne will LET him play tomorrow?" I revised hastily. "I know he would anyway."

Iggy shrugged. "I can't say for sure. I'm blind, remember? But apparently, if you trust Jenna Lee's screams, his knee is positively purple."

"Quiet, class," Ms. Niota ordered softly, and instantly the class was silent. Everyone liked Ms. Niota, and misbehavior was rare in her classes. "Today we are working on the final drafts of your persuasive essays. If you need assistance, ask me. Otherwise, work in your peer writing groups."

Everyone stood up and began shuffling around into the assigned writing groups, so I left Iggy and went to find my partners, Luke and Pia. They were already deep in discussion on Pia's essay about sea turtles, so I sat down with my paper and let them talk. My attention drifted towards the window again, and I caught a glimpse of Max, Nudge, and Terra running along the track together, conversing intently about something, probably Gazzy. I could just pick out the small figure seated on the bleachers that was Gazzy, and he appeared to be holding a large ice pack to his knee. I smiled slightly: at least he was getting a little care for his injury.

After all, he had a game to play tomorrow.

I waited patiently at the back doors of the school, the ones people used to get to the gym for PE. Terra had already passed by, smiling apologetically at me.

"Where's Gaz?" I called to her.

"I can't carry him anymore," Terra replied sheepishly. "Max took over for me instead. She and Nudge are stronger anyway."

"Okay," I mumbled, switching my gaze back to the doors. The rest of the PE class came flooding through the doors in groups of threes and fours, some laughing and chatting, some complaining to their friends. There was no sign of Nudge, Gazzy, or Max.

At least, there was no sign of my Max.

Max II came walking in by himself, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoody and a sulky expression etched onto his face. When he caught my eye, he scowled and stopped. I appraised him calmly, waiting for him to speak first.

"I will get Max back," he informed me coolly, standing up straighter to try and intimidate me. The fact that he was four or five inches shorter than me didn't help his cause. "I'll get Max back," he repeated, "and she will never look at you again, Fang." Max II's lip curled. "You disgust me."

"No," I replied, my voice tinged with a boredom I didn't feel. "You're jealous of me." My hands were shaking slightly from pent-up anger at Max II's cocky attitude, so I placed them slowly and calmly into the pocket of my sweatshirt.

Max II looked shocked for a moment, then subsided back into a cold sneer. "I have no reason to be jealous of such a shallow, school celebrity like you, Fang," he hissed.

"Yeah you do," I assured him, my face and voice expressionless. "I have Max, and you don't."

Max II's sneer flickered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Oh, I'll have Max back soon enough. You just watch and see…"

Max II stalked off down the hallway, muttering something sinister under his breath. I rolled my eyes, keeping my gaze on the door. Nudge, Gazzy, and my Max hadn't come through yet… Where could they be?

Around the fifth time I had checked the clock above the door, Max and Nudge came staggering in. Gazzy's arms were threaded around their shoulders, and he was performing some sort of strange hop on his right leg. Mr. Tulney came bobbing in behind them, checking nervously on their progress. I noticed that the icepack that had formerly been strapped around Gazzy's knee was now clutched in his hand. "Alright there, ladies? Now you should hurry off to your classes, you have those late passes I gave you?" Mr. Tulney inquired. Max and Nudge nodded, producing scraps of paper from their pockets. "Good, good. Now we just need to get Gazzy off to his class somehow-" Mr. Tulney murmured. Mr. Tulney shifted his vision across the hallway, catching sight of me. "Fang!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here? It's almost time for third period to begin!"

"Sorry, Mr. Tulney," Max cut in smoothly, adjusting her grip around Gazzy's shoulders. "Fang offered to ferry Gazzy to history, since they have that class together. Is that alright?"

Mr. Tulney stared Max down for a moment, then smiled. "Of course, of course," he replied. "Let me just write a pass for both of them. You girls should get off to class now."

"Right," Nudge agreed. She and Max directed Gazzy forward, steering him clumsily into me. I tried not to stumble as he unlatched himself from the girls and grabbed onto my shoulders to maintain his own balance. I gripped his shoulder in support, threading my arm under his so he wasn't in danger of toppling over anymore.

"Gaz, you're a fatty," Max muttered, speaking under her breath so Mr. Tulney couldn't hear her.

"Aww, I love you too Max," Gazzy replied, smiling sweetly at her. Despite the gruesomely plum color of his knee, Gazzy seemed to be in rather high spirits.

Max rolled her eyes, then smiled at me. "Yo Fang, I hope you're feeling strong today," she murmured as she slid past me. "Sir Fatty over there is one heavy boy."

"I'm good," I assured her seriously. "I can take on Sir Fatty."

"Hey!" Gazzy whined. Max and I just smirked at him, before she followed Nudge down the hallway and disappeared. Gazzy grinned suddenly at me. "Phew, I'm glad they're gone. They stink," Gazzy confided, looking mischievous. "Mr. Tulney assigned a killer of a work out today, and needless to say our dear friends perspired quite a bit."

"Lovely," I deadpanned, my eyes on Mr. Tulney. He was busily scribbling something down on another piece of paper he had produced from somewhere. When he finished writing, he signed it with a flourish and capped the pan. Turning to me, Mr. Tulney offered the paper. I took it, studying the few words scrawled across the center. Late Pass: Fang Rianild, third period. Roger Tulney.

"There you go, Fang. And Gazzy, you have yours?" Mr. Tulney inquired. Gazzy nodded, flashing his own late pass. "Good, good. Then go to your classes now, boys. Gazzy, I would like to hear you visited the nurse's office."

Gazzy's eyes darkened, but he made an effort to be polite to the teacher. "No sir, I'm okay. I don't need to go to the nurse," Gazzy assured him. "The ice really helped!" he added, seeing as Mr. Tulney didn't look too convinced.

"Fine," Mr. Tulney sighed. "It's your knee. Go on, then."

"Thanks, Mr. Tulney!" Gazzy called behind him as we set off down the hallway. I had to hunch over slightly, as Gazzy was one or two inches shorter than me, but we managed. Gazzy hopped along pretty well on his good leg, and we were standing outside history in no time.

"Be careful not to strain your right knee," I advised him. "If you put too much pressure on it while your left is healing, you're gonna hurt that one too."

"I know, I know," Gazzy replied, rubbing his right knee vigorously. "I just hate being so slow."

"Don't worry about it," I muttered, pushing the door to the classroom open.

There was a short silence as we entered, easily ten minutes late. Ms. Hell, as Iggy called her, turned to face us, a threatening look on her face. "Mr. Rianild and Mr, Richards," she addressed us coolly. "Do you have late passes?"

"Yes, ma'm," Gazzy replied cheerfully. He brandished the scrap of paper at Ms. Hell, and I showed her my own. Ms. Hell grabbed the passes, studying them carefully. She probably expected forgery, never having trusted a student before in her career at Cromwell.

"Take your seats, then. Do not disrupt the class any further today," Ms. Hell ordered finally, tossing the passes in her recycling bin. Gazzy and I made our way up the aisle to a pair of empty seats, sitting down quietly until Ms. Hell began to lecture about some war again.

"I won't disrupt the class anymore today then," Gazzy murmured to me out of the corner of his mouth. "I'll wait for tomorrow."

I nodded sagely, pulling out my notebook and beginning to doodle.

History class dragged oh so boringly by, Gazzy and I forced to revert to doodling instead of talking, since Ms. Hell was keeping an unusually sharp eye on us after our late entrance. She seemed to suspect that we were unruly attention seekers, and would go at any costs to make trouble in her class again.

Old bat.

Thankfully, the clock finally dragged its lazy hands over to the beautiful numbers that signified the end of third period. "Freedom!" Gazzy whispered joyfully, gathering up his materials in less than five seconds. He shoved the parts from three disassembled pens into his pocket, then stood up and started to try hobbling to the door.

Needless to say, he didn't get very far before I caught up and slung his arm around my shoulder again. "What's your next class?" I asked calmly, ignoring the displeased noises he was making.

"English," Gazzy muttered, directing me towards the right hallways. "You?"

"Math," I replied. "I can get there on time if we hurry a bit."

Gazzy and I speed-hobbled through the hallway, pushing past crowds of people and weaving in between the hordes of still more students at our beloved Cromwell. Halfway to Gazzy's English class, Nudge popped out of nowhere, a resigned look on her face.

"Fang, I don't want you to be late for math because if you get detention and can't play and Gazzy is a cripple than we wouldn't have our star forwards for the game tomorrow. Of course, Rosanna is a really good forward, but you guys are like, amazing! So even though I know I'll regret my decision in three steps, I'll take Gazzy to English and you should hurry to math. You're already halfway in the wrong direction Fang, so hurry!" Nudge ordered, not even out of breath. Quickly, I handed Gazzy over to her. He didn't argue, surprisingly, but obediently wrapped his arm around her shoulders with a satisfied smile.

"Thanks Nudge," I told her simply, flashing a quick smile. Nudge waved it off, already grunting to herself as she hauled Gazzy to English.

I half-ran to math, slipping in the door just as the bell rang. As I sank into my seat, I could barely focus on Mr. Vinns' voice. There was just too much going on today, what with Gazzy being hurt, talking to Max II, and almost being late to every single one of my classes so far.

We really better win our game tomorrow.

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly. Gazzy was handed around between most of our friends. By sixth period he had been ferried to classes by me, Max, Iggy, Nudge, Terra, Ella, Lucas, Matt, and JJ. It was a relief to be able to sit down next to Max in art class and not have to worry about who was going to haul Gazzy where next period. Max seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because she was doodling a highly exaggerated picture of her, Terra, and Nudge in chains, dragging a wildly grinning Gazzy behind them on a huge, bejeweled throne.

And she says that I'm a drama queen.

"Settle down, class," Ms. Rykitel called quietly, sitting down on her stool in front of our desks. Gradually, the chatter died down, and we looked expectantly at Ms. Rykitel for her next directions. "For the next several days, we will be focusing on pencil portraits. You will draw yourself, your desk partner, and another person in the class. After we are finished with these, we will move away from pencil and paper for awhile and begin with a pottery unit."

Some cheers rose up in the class at the mention of pottery, but Max scowled. "I suck at clay," she muttered, glaring at her doodle. I rolled my eyes, and Max kicked me under the desk. Luckily for her, Ms. Rykitel didn't notice.

"We shall begin with the self-portraits! I will hand out mirrors for everyone to use. Once you have a mirror you may begin," Ms. Rykitel instructed, slipping off her stool and picking up a box of hand mirrors.

Ms. Rykitel gave me a dark green mirror, and handed Max a bright fuchsia one before walking away to the next desk. Max glared at her pink mirror before furiously attacking her paper, still muttering to herself. I stifled a laugh at her antics, instead turning my attention to my own drawing.

I was absorbed in the drawing after awhile, periodically checking my mirror for reassurance on my reflection. Max seemed to have calmed down, for she was no longer growling every time she looked in her pink mirror. Silence reigned in the room, but for a few quiet conversations. Everyone seemed to be concentrating on making their self-portraits look as good as possible. I highly suspected there wouldn't be this much focus when we began drawing other people.

Art seemed to be an eternity, but in a good way, unlike history class. I felt very calm and collected when the bell rang, almost as if I had just woken up from a long, soothing nap. Max actually yawned as she put away her pencils, looking very sleepy. "Art always makes me tired," Max murmured, stifling another yawn. "It's so quiet in here."

"Yeah," I agreed, stowing my portrait away in a pocket of my binder. Out of pure habit, I checked to make sure all of my best drawings were still inside the binder. My still life was present, as was the one of Iggy dancing ballet, along with the doodle of Nudge and Gazzy fencing dramatically-

I furrowed my eyebrows as I rechecked the binder. One of my drawings was gone. Where could it have disappeared to?

"Fang? You ready to go?" Max asked impatiently, drumming her fingers against the desk.

I double checked my binder, but the missing drawing didn't surface. With a sigh, I decided it must have either fallen out when I dropped my binder earlier, or was hidden among the messy sheaves of paper bursting out of the pockets of my binder. "I'm good," I told Max, following her out the door again.

"Good, 'cause today is our last practice before the game, and we can't be late," Max replied, shifting her binder in her arms absentmindedly. "Anne said lateness is mirrored in how much game time we get, and I want to play as much of the game as I can. I know you do too," Max added, shooting me a knowing look. I shrugged, not bothering to deny it.

"I think I lost one of my drawings," I remarked once we were at our lockers. Max glanced at me, stopping in the midst of dialing in her combination.

"Was it important?" she asked immediately. I half-smiled. That was one of the reasons I liked Max. Most of my other friends wouldn't have cared about me losing one drawing. They would've pointed out I had millions of other ones anyway.

"Yeah, kinda," I replied, pulling my backpack out of my locker.

"Bummer."

"Yep."

We packed the rest of our stuff in silence, letting the background noise of the hallway fill in the space. "Race you to the locker rooms," Max offered suddenly, a mischievous grin lighting up on her face.

"You're on," I replied instantly. Without another word, we slung our backpacks over our shoulders and bolted down the now-empty hallway. Max was starting to get ahead of me, so I yanked on her backpack and pulled her behind instead. She yelped in protest, latching on to my backpack strap as a way of retaliation. We raced down to the locker rooms, cheating and pushing, in the way we had become accustomed to behaving.

Someone's POV

I knelt in the alcove, watching the tail end of Max's ponytail flash around the corner as she chased Fang down the hallway. My fists clenched at the thought, but I didn't let it bother me too much. Fang was merely temporary, and Max would not be entertained by him for long.

I looked at the crumpled paper in my hands. It depicted a scene of Max playing soccer, poised to take a penalty kick on a comically frightened Iggy Fields. Every stroke of the pencil was confident and bold, just like the person formed by the lines. A small signature in the bottom corner proclaimed it to be the work of Fang, a fact which made my clenched fists tighten even more.

Maybe he didn't even realize it yet, but that boy was a danger to my mission. He was a compromising point in a set of data. He could ruin the whole plan.

We would just have to rehash some aspects of our plan, making them include Fang, perhaps even a few more of the ones that were drawing too close to Max. In fact, that might even work to our advantage.

Only time would tell.

I crushed the already wrinkled drawing into a ball, lobbing it at Fang's locker. The paper ball bounced harmlessly off, coming to a landing a couple feet away from the wall. I came out of the alcove and strode down the hallway, smashing Fang's drawing again under my heel as I passed it.

Yes. Only time would tell.

Yay! Dark ending! I love dark endings.

Gazzy: -facepalm-

Lolz. Anywayzas, obviously some people don't read my author's notes, which makes me sad. =::( I know this because some people asked when I was gonna update, even after I warned you I was at science camp last week.

Gazzy: WHITECOAT.

Shut up already about the whitecoat thing, Gaz! So, if you actually read my author's note, write a note to Gazzy in your review! It doesn't have to be long, just say hi to him or something! (:

Gazzy: Tell me how amazing I am. Don't be shy. =P

Right… So yes… REVIEW PLEASE! =D

~TMI~