Tears were dripping onto my dress, but I wasn't making any sound. There was no sound to express thid kind of pain. I didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything. Fang was not waiting for me out in the living room. Tomorrow morning, when I woke up, Fang would still be gone.

I don't think of myself as a writer.

And there I was, pretty as heck, brown eyes, a few freckles, fashion challenged, and a bad attitude. Max II.

Yeah,” said Iggy. “But what now? Let’s do something fun.” I guess being on the run from bloodthirsty Erasers and insane scientists wasn’t enough fun for him. Kids today are so spoiled.

I moved to leave, and Dylan actually grabbed me by my shoulders. I was so surprised that I forgot to karate-chop his elbows and break his arms.

And Flock Rule Number Two is, Don't argue with Max or you'll live to regret it." I spun and stomped out to the clearing, turning back for one last jab at Dylan. "And by the way, you clearly DON'T know me better than Fang does. Do you see Fang arguing with me? No, you do not." Fang rolled his eyes.

Please, sit down," Sharon said with another hair toss. I made a mental note to practice doing that in a mirror the next time I saw one. it seemed a useful skill, right up there with roundhouse kicks.