Fang

Dear Max -

You looked so beautiful today. I’m going to remember what you looked like forever.

Nudge put her hand over her mouth.

And I hope you remember me the same way – clean, ha-ha. I’m glad our last time together was happy.

But I’m leaving tonight, leaving the flock, and this time it’s for good. I don’t know if I’ll ever see any of you again. The thing is, Max, that everyone is a little bit right. Added up all together, it makes this one big right.

Dylan’s a little bit right about how my being here might be putting the rest of you in danger. The threat might have been just about Dr. Hans, but we don’t know that for sure. Angel is a little bit right about how splitting up the flock will help all of us survive. And the rest of the flock is a little bit right about how when you and I are together, we’re focused on each other – we can’t help it.

The thing is, Maximum, I love you. I can’t help but be focused on you when we’re together. If you’re in the room, I want to be next to you. If you’re gone, I think about you. You’re who I want to talk to. In a fight, I want you at my back. When we’re together, the sun is shining. When we’re apart, everything is in shades of gray.

I hope you’ll forgive me someday for turning our worlds into shades of gray – at least for a while.

I stopped for a moment, trying to breathe. The others had trickled down the hall to see what we were doing, and they were all crowded around Nudge, their faces shocked.

You’re not at your best when you’re focused on me. I mean, you’re at your best Maxness, but not your best leaderness. I mostly need Maxness. The flock mostly needs leaderness. And Angel, if you’re listening to this, it ain’t you, sweetie. Not yet.

I glanced at Angel, and her cheeks flushed.

At least for a couple more years, the flock needs a leader to survive, no matter how capable everyone thinks he or she is. The truth is that they do need a leader, and the truth is that you are the best leader. It’s one of the things I love about you.

But the more I thought about it, the more sure I got that this is the right thing to do. Maybe not for you, or for me, but for all of us together, our flock.

Please don’t try to find me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, besides wearing that suit today, and seeing you again will only make it harder. You’d ask me to come back, and I would, because I can’t say no to you. But all the same problems would still be there, and I’d end up leaving again, and then we’d have to go through this all over again.

Please make us only go through this once.

My throat was closing up, my voice becoming raspy. I could think of lots of times he’d told me no. Nudge edged her hand into the crook of my arm, holding on as if we both needed support.

I love you. I love your smile, your snarl, your grin, your face when you’re sleeping. I love your hair streaming out behind you as we fly, with the sunlight making it shine, if it doesn’t have too much mud or blood in it. I love seeing your wings spreading out, white and brown and tan and speckled, and the tiny, downy feathers right at the top of your shoulders. I love your eyes, whether they’re cold or calculating or suspicious or laughing or warm, like when you look at me.

I started crying, like a big doofus. I couldn’t believe this. I wiped my tears away with the sleeve of my fancy dress.

You’re the best warrior I know, the best leader. You’re the most comforting mom we’ve ever had. You’re the biggest goof ball, the worst driver, and a truly lousy cook. You’ve kept us safe and provided for us, in good times and bad. You’re my best friend, my first and only love, and the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, with wings or without.

Now everyone was crying, even Iggy. We were all sniffing and wiping our faces, and I knew I was right: Reading this out loud meant it had really happened, was really happening. To all of us, not just to me.

Tell you what, sweetie: If in twenty years we haven’t expired yet, and the world is still more or less in one piece, I’ll meet you at the top of that cliff where we first met the hawks and learned to fly with them. You know the one. Twenty years from today, if I’m alive, I’ll be there, waiting for you. You can bet on it.

Good-bye, my love.

Fang

P.S. Tell everyone I sure will miss them.

We were all silent. The letter was wet with my tears, making some of the words run. Fang was usually, well, reserved is a nice word for it. But this letter had poured out a lifetime’s worth of love. I felt numb, like someone had just whapped my head hard.

“I can’t believe it,” said Gazzy. “That butthead,” said Iggy.

“This is my fault,” said Angel, her shoulders hunching with sobs.

“No,” I told her. “You’ve done a lot of asinine things, but this is not your fault.”

I felt very old and very tired. Total and Akila’s wedding seemed as if it had happened a year ago. Nudge put her head on my shoulder. I set the letter down and put my arms around her.

Tears were dripping onto my dress, but I wasn’t making any sound. There was no sound that could express this kind of pain.

I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to do anything. Fang was not waiting for me out in the living room. Tomorrow morning, when I woke up, Fang would still be gone.

I feel like I’m going to HURL. Which, even if I wanted to do, I couldn’t do, because I haven’t eaten. I can’t even drag myself out of my room. And while I’d be able to muster the strength to roundhouse Fang until he begged for MERCY, I’d be mush around an Eraser. In fact, all I want to flipping do is lie on this bed with our old laptop and catch up on my Hulu. Apparently, being heartbroken is not leverage enough to get Nudge to give up the NEW computer, so I’m stuck with the old laptop.

But what to my wondering eyes should appear, the very moment I turn the thing on?

What did that stupid deserting crap-bag ex-boyfriend, ex-best friend with the most perfect stupid hair do? He DIDN’T delete his crap off the desktop before he fled my life and left me all alone. That’s what he did.

Do I open it?

Do I open it?

Of course I freaking open it!!!!!!

MaxProCon.doc

MAX

Pro:Con

Good leader:Drill sergeant

Could possibly kill anyone/thing with bare hands:Could possibly kill me with bare hands

Can save the world:Has to save the world

Pretty:Doesn’t shower

Smart:Knows it all

Good taste in music:Can’t sing. At all.

Likes me:Hot for Dylan

Eats as much as I do:Burps like a trucker

Believes in me:Skeptical of EVERYONE else

Needs me sometimes:Doesn’t need me sometimes

Thinks with her heart:Reacts with her heart

Keeps me on my game:Stubborn doesn’t cover it

Nice lips:Bony toes

Can act like she’s my mom:Eew

Wants to make the world a better place:Takes on too much

Could stay with her forever:Distraction from what we need to do

Unpostedblogs.doc

Chad, Africa

Hot, Hungry, and Thankful Not to Have HIV O’clock

Here we are in Africa, where the focus is not on us and our problems. It’s on the crippling injustice in the world. The GDP (“gross domestic product”-don’t ask me; just look it up!) of Chad is 16.1 billion dollars. The GDP of the USA is 14.3 trillion dollars. Chew on that.

It’s pretty overwhelming. What can I, in the tiny scope of one life, possibly do to make a lasting and large change in the world? I’m a bird kid and a borderline celebrity at this point… but still, I’m just a drop in the bucket.

I’m down tonight, so here I am blithering on like Nudge. Max is asleep, and so is everyone else. Strange. We bird kids don’t take sleep for granted, you know? Occasionally things chill out… but they never really chill out. We just forget how crazy everything is…

Okay. The bottom line is that what Angel said scared the bejeezy out of me. There. I said it.

’Cause I’m going to die “first” and “soon.”

I could string that sinister little mind-reading Shirley Temple up by her pinafores for her total lack of elaboration. Except Max about beat me to it.

I’m lucky. Somehow I got the “unable to visually emote” genetic modification. Because inside, when Angel said that, my blood froze and my bird bones ached.

So what’s her prediction worth anyway? Where does it come from? From a Voice, like Max’s? Doesn’t mean it’s right. We only assume it’s always going to be right, because it has the power to invade her brain and be so FLIPPING CREEPY. But creepy doesn’t mean all-powerful.

It’s like I’m trying to talk myself out of this. Of course we’re going to die. And it’s probably going to be sooner rather than later. And it’s not going to be fun. Look at the life we lead.

Twelve hours ago were we not being shot at by crazy guys on camels with semiautomatic weapons?

That’s what I thought.

Crap.

Sigh.

Fly on,

Fang

I’m Not Telling, Colorado

The Day Before Our Birthday O’clock

So, we have on The Gift List: