Fly on.

"Yo Max."

Fang. Fang's voice. I blinked and sat up fast, grabbing the sheets. "Wha'?" I panted. "What's, what's--"

"Let's take a little spin." Fang motioned outside. I looked around. The girls were sleeping in this room, the boys in the other. Outside, the night was deep but bright with moonlight.

"Why?" I whispered.

He smiled unexpectedly, and my heart gave a little squeeze. "Because we can."

Sadly, I usually don't need a better reason than that. Fang eased himself through the motel door and ran off into the night, while I quickly pulled on jeans and a jacket. Then I followed him, raced toward the dark part of the parking lot, and launched myself into the air.

My wings snapped out, full and strong, through the big slits in my jacket. I dipped several feet until my feathers gathered the air like sails, and then I rose powerfully over the rooftops of this quiet DC suburb. I smiled as I cut through the night sky, Fang a thousand feet above me, barely outlined by moonlight. In seconds I had reached him, full of the exhilaration that comes with free flying, flying for pleasure. Instead of for escape, for example.

We wheeled through the chilly air, not speaking, leaving the town far behind.

Soon we were near the ocean, close to Chesapeake Bay. Swooping in wide circles, we saw a small unused dock jutting out into the water. With unspoken agreement we coasted lower, finally making a sneaker-pounding running stop down the length of the dock. Scarcely breathing hard, we sat on the edge of the dock, leaving our wings outstretched to cool off. There was no room-- one of Fang's wings overlapped one of mine.

"This is pretty." My feet dangled at least a yard above the water.

"Yeah, this is peaceful." Fang was looking at everything except me. "Are we back on track?"

I looked at him. "What do you mean? What track?"

"You and me. We... broke up."

Oh that. I gazed at the water, embarrased.

"I don't want to split up again," he said.

"No, me neither."

"Max..."


His face was unreadable in the moonlight. I felt the light, feathery heat of his wing lying over mine. What did he want from me? Why couldn't he just let things be?

"What do you want from me?" he said.

"What do I-- What do you mean? I want the usual stuff, like always." I hated conversations like this, hated talking about my feelings unless I was, like, furious. Then words came easily. But this mushy hearts-and-flowers stuff? Ugh.

His eyes met mine. "Look, you didn't like it when you saw me with that girl at school, back in Virginia."

True. Seeing Fang kissing the Red-Haired Wonder had sent acid churning through my gut. I stayed silent, remembering.

"And I wasn't thrilled about you and Sam, the possible traitor, also back in Virginia."

"Yeah, Virginia basically sucked," I agreed.

"Well, why? Why would it bother us to see us with other people?"

Oh, God, where was he going with this? If I had more than brother-sister feelings for Fang, I could barely admit them to myself, much less him.

"'Cause we're shallow and self-serving?" I tried, wishing he would just drop it.

He rolled his eyes and took my hand. His hand was hard and calloused, tough with muscle and old scars. The night settled around us like a blanket. I could hear the water lapping against the dock. We were totally alone.

"You're...," he began, and I waited, heart throbbing in my throat. "Such a pain." he concluded.

"What?" I asked, just as his head swooped in and his mouth touch mine. I tried to speak, but one of Fang's hands held the back of my head, and he kept his lips pressed against me, kissing me softly but with a Fang-like determination.

Oh, jeez, I thought distractedly. Jeez, this is Fang, and me, and... Fang tilted his head to kiss me more deeply, and I felt lightheaded. Then I remembered to breathe through my nose, and the fog cleared a tiny bit. Somehow we were pressed together, Fang's arms around me now, sliding under my wings, his hands flat against my back.

It was incredible. I love it. I loved him.

It was a total disaster.

Gasping, I pulled back. "I, uh--," I began oh so coherently, and then I jumped up, almost knocking him over, and raced down the dock. I took off, flying fast, like a rocket.

James Patterson's

Maximum Ride: The Final Warning

Chapter 13.

My favorite.

 Fly on.