"Uh-huh," I said. "Because all you mad, evil scientists sit around whipping up batches of Pillsbury's finest during your coffee breaks. I mean, this is pathetic."

I was always a good student, but I didn't read that much until I was 18 and I was working my way through college.

Did I want a dog? No. Did I need a dog? Also no. We were six kids running for our lives, not knowing where our next meal was coming from. Could we afford to feed a dog? Wait for it—no.

Fang swerved closer to me, big and supremely graceful, like a black panther with wings. Oh, God. I'm so stupid. Forget I just said that. "He needs a Band-Aid," I said. A look passed between me and Fang, full of suppressed humor, relief, understanding,love — Forget I said that too. I don't know what's wrong with me.

Sometimes he seems like a droid--or a drone. Fang of Nine. Fang2-D2.

Part 1- In search of Hot Chocolate-Chip Cookies

He landed 10 feet below with a sickening crunch-i'm guessing his enhancements didn't allow him to bounce back up like a ball. we call that a design flaw.