Yes. I owed my life, Angel's life, and my mother's life to a mutant's ability to create industrial-strength snot.

What are they teaching these thugs? -Why are there so many of them? -What is the Institute for Higher Aeronautics? -How many of the are there? There are only six of us! Why? -Why is DC public transportation so weird? -Why don't we mug those Eraser goons for money more often? -Fang's Blog

Your mind creates your reality. If you expect nothing, you open up the universe to give you options. If you expect the worst, you usually get it.

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.

It was like meeting someone out of your dreams, or fantasies, or a beloved character from a favorite book.

When are you going to trust me Max?" asked Fang. "When I go completely bonkers," I laughed.

I stood there watching Phoebe arrange the pillows and the sheets. She isn't thinking that I... I mean, she doesn't think that she and I would... WHAT?