School's Out- Forever (Maximum Ride 2)

Reluctantly, I turned off the water and got out, then wrapped myself in my own personal towel, Dove fresh. On the other hand, civilization had its own quirky demands: remembering to brush your hair, wearing different clothes every day—details I wasn’t used to.

But I was dealing.

“Max?” Iggy knocked on the door. “Can I come in? I just have to brush my teeth.”

“No—I’m in a towel,” I called back.

“I’m blind,” he said impatiently.

“No! You’re kidding! Are you sure?” I grabbed my comb and rubbed a hole in the fogged-up mirror—then stifled a shriek. Eraser Max was back.

“Very funny,” said Iggy. “Well, don’t take forever. Primping’s not going to do much for you, anyway.”

I still hadn’t taken a breath by the time I heard his footsteps reach the end of the hall.

Swallowing hard, I reached up with trembling fingers and touched my cheek. It was smooth skin. The mirror showed a hairy paw with ragged claws, caressing my muzzle.

“How is this happening?” I whispered, terrified.

Eraser Max smiled at me. “But we’re not so different,” it said. “Everything is connected. I’m part of you. You’re part of me. We can help each other.”

“You’re not part of me,” I whispered. “I could never be like you.”

“Max, Max,” Eraser Max said soothingly. “You already are.”

I whirled away from the mirror and burst out of the bathroom. Quickly I went to my room and shut the door, before anyone could see me.

I sat on my bed, shaking, and kept touching my face over and over to make sure I was still me. “Am I really, finally going crazy?” I murmured.

30

A little tap on my door made me jump, every muscle bunched with fear. It had to be Iggy. “I’m out of the bathroom,” I called, hearing my voice shake a little.

“Yeah,” Fang said. “I can tell, ’cause your voice is coming from in there.”

“What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

“No!”

So of course the door opened. Fang leaned in the doorway. He saw how I looked, pale and big-eyed and freaked. Compulsively I touched my face, looked down at my hands. Still covered with plain skin.

One of his dark eyebrows rose, and he came in and closed the door. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Something’s wrong with me, but I don’t know what.”

Fang waited for a moment, then sat next to me on the bed and put his arm gently across my shoulders. I was all huddled up, damp in my towel, feeling miserable and more scared than I’d been in—days.

“You’ll be okay,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know everything, as I keep reminding you.”

I was too miserable to smile.

“Look,” he said. “Whatever this is, we’ll deal with it. We always have before.”