Max (Maximum Ride 5)

"It's a mystery," I said, deciding to worry about it later. Right now I was hungry and a little shaky from the drop in adrenaline.

I pushed my hair out of my eyes, and just then noticed that Dr. Brilliant's hair was actually cut in a style, like on purpose. I've had my hair cut by an actual hairdresser exactly once in my life, and that was many, many battles ago.

I felt like a truck driver next to Brigid Dwyer. A truck driver with bad hair, a black eye, dried blood around my nose, and ripped and bloody clothes. Not an unusual look for me, but all of a sudden, I felt—I don't know. I don't know what I felt.

"Here we are," said Brigid as we pulled into the driveway of a smallish stucco house. The houses were packed tightly together here, and the streets were full of dogs and cars, the yards strung with lines of clean laundry.

I automatically scanned the area for possible hiding places, points of vulnerability, whether the windows were breakable, whether the trees would get in our way. Fang got out first, raked the area with his stare, and determined that it was safe.

The rest of us piled out quickly and hurried to the back of the house. I felt tired and irritable and, worse, kept sensing Brigid looking at Fang. I just wanted to eat about three banana splits and then collapse.

Warm yellow light spilled out a window, forming a slanted rectangle on the grass. Just as we reached the back door, it swung open. I stopped so suddenly that Angel bumped into me. I got on the balls of my feet, ready to leap into action if someone dangerous was behind that door.

At first all I saw was a silhouette. At the same moment, a delicious, familiar scent wafted out into the warm night air.

Chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven.

The silhouette was my mom, Dr. Valencia Martinez, and she was smiling at me.

And the world seemed loads better.

10

MAN, I FEEL GREAT," Gazzy said an hour later. He tipped back in his chair and patted his stomach, now full of enchiladas, tacos, chips and salsa, and cookies. "Looove Mexico," he crooned. "Looove Mexican food."

"It's so good to see you again," my mom said, kissing my cheek. Again.

I beamed at her. "You too. And I haven't seen Ella in ages."

"I've got so much to tell you," my half sister said to me. She quickly pushed a couple tortilla chips into her mouth, her eyes wide. "We had a dance at my school!"

My mom smiled at Ella, looking tired and proud. "Yes, she even gave up two hours with me to attend. Ella and I have been stuffing envelopes and making phone calls for the CSM in every spare minute."

For a second I was jealous—Ella had so much more of my mom, all the time, her whole life. Then I felt guilty. Ella deserved to have our mom, and it wasn't her fault that I couldn't. The fact was, my mom had had Ella in the normal way. I had been an egg donated to science and was fertilized in a test tube. Neither of us knew the other existed until this past year. And now, no matter how much we cared about each other, it was still too dangerous for me to live in one place for any length of time. Being with my mom would also mean putting her and Ella at risk. And I wouldn't do it.

Amazingly, I'm not that selfish. Yet.

"You've been doing an incredible job for the CSM too, honey," my mom said to me. "But I agree that the air shows must be canceled. There's just no way to guarantee your safety."

Jeb Batchelder pulled out a chair and sat down, propping his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together. "Has everyone had enough to eat?" he asked.

I slowly let out a breath, not looking at him. I would never get used to seeing him again, after thinking he was dead for years. I would never accept that he was a good guy, after everything he'd done to me and the flock over the last—what was it now? Eight months? Time was so—stretchy, in my life.

Somehow my mom trusted him. And I trusted my mom. But that was as far as it went, despite the fact that as far as I knew, he was my biological father, the other half of the test-tube cocktail that had produced me. But I never, ever thought of him as my father. Ever.

"The CSM isn't our only concern right now," Jeb said. His hair was starting to go gray. I'd love to think that I caused some of it. "We need to discuss your next steps."

Instantly I felt my face set like stone. I didn't look at Fang but knew that he'd have the same expression. None of us had ever reacted well to the amusing notion of having grown-ups decide things for us—like our future, or what we did, and so on.

"Oh?" I said in a voice that would have made most people pause.

Jeb was used to it, having heard it from me since I was about three years old.

"Yes," he said. "A new school was recently created—the Day and Night School. It's for gifted children, and it's designed to let kids learn at their natural pace, in ways that suit them best. You'd all do really well there. It's one of the only schools on earth where you'd fit in."

"Yeah, we're all about fitting in," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Where is it?" Nudge asked. I heard the eagerness in her voice, and groaned to myself.