A/N: Hey, people of Earth, I'm finally updating! Yay! I'm so sorry about not updating. I was sick. To make up for it, I have the FUNNIEST story ever! Well… It wasn't funny at the time… But it's funny now!

So yesterday in art we were making plaster masks of our faces. My friend Caroline did mine. Apparently, my art teacher got this great idea from his old principal to cover our faces with tissue paper so the plaster wouldn't get on us. Worst. Idea. Ever. Do any of you know what happens when you get tissue paper wet? That's right. It bleeds. All. Over. My. Face. So yesterday, for about a half an hour, I had a purple face. I got it off, but I have this purple streak in my hair that won't come out. It seems funny, but would you be laughing if there were 20 screaming girls with colored faces? Well… I would be. But I was one of them… So it's NOT funny. The teacher said that we looked like a multi-racial village of Smurfs. Thanks, Mr. T, thanks.

Anyway, I hope that my misfortune makes up for not updating. At the very least, I hope you laugh.

On with the story!

FPOV

One week after the agreement

I angrily pace around the small, white, claustrophobic cell Max and I were being held in, contemplating what could have possessed her to agree to Jeb's plan. His scheme was glaringly obvious! Why would she agree? Ugh. Jeb. That bastard. He had the nerve to come waltzing in here, acting like he owns us (which I guess he technically does, but that beside the point) and trying to tell us what to do. Sometimes I just want to-

"Fang?" Max's groggy voice asks from the corner where she was sleeping.

I whip around to face her, startled by the voice and unaware that she had awakened.

"What's the matter?" she asks, her eyes bleary and unfocused.

"Nothing. I'm fine. Go back to sleep," I tell her, studying her disheveled and sleepy figure.

"No," she mutters, struggling to sit up while still half asleep. "Something's wrong. You don't pace."

Damn. She's got me there. I almost never, ever pace. I only do it when I'm extremely stressed, and I've never let Max see me in a state of anxiety. She's got enough to handle by herself without my problems, too.

"Is it my choice? Moving into a house where we'd be watched?" she asks.

This girl knows me too well.

"It's just, I don't know what to do," I say, walking over to a wall, leaning heavily against it, then slowly sliding down to the ground so I'm sitting. "I know he's got a plan, and it seems so obvious. I don't think he'd be stupid enough to leave out in the open like that. He's got to be hiding something, I just don't know what."

I hear Max sigh, then light, padding footsteps across the linoleum floor. "I know what you're going through. You don't think that I haven't been thinking about this, too? I really don't know if I made the right decision," she sighs.

"Well," I start, taking some time to gather my thoughts, "I think that we really didn't have a choice. There's no way that wherever they're going to send us could come even remotely close to as hellish as this place is," I finish, stumbling over my words. As an afterthought, I add, "But whatever happens, I'll stand behind you fully."

"Thanks," she whispers, leaning her head against my shoulder. "It's nice to know I have someone's support."

"You're welcome," I tell her, starting to stand up. "I wonder where the rest of the flock will stand on this."

"I don't know…" she mutters, taking the hand I offer to her and pulling herself up. "That is, if Jeb's taking what we said to heart."

"I'm sure he will. He needs us to cooperate," I reassure her, walking over to the corner we had designated as our sleeping corner. His Rotundity had wheeled the bed a couple of days ago, scowling at us. I don't remember doing anything bad. Maybe it was Max…

She slowly laid down on the cold tile and I settled down next to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her close. One of my worst fears is waking up and having Max gone, so I'm determined to keep the dream just that; a dream.

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I thought I was gonna be tortured by my brother's friend who was supposed to stay at my house for three days this weekend, though. (He abuses me mentally and physically. My art teacher says that when a guy is mean to you it's because he likes you. If he hit me with a metal baseball bat does it mean he likes me? I also have a scar on my thigh from his fingernails and one on my shoulder from his teeth. I guess it's okay because I've done the same to him.) I'll make up for the short chapter with this funny story. (I'm just a regular comedian today, aren't I?) So lately, there's been this song that everyone at my school loves. It's called Stronger by Kelly Clarkson. It's the bestest song ever. Ever. EVER. So go to grooveshark (dot) com and look it up! It's free! Anyway, I was singing it under my breathe, and my new boyfriend (that's right! I've rebounded. My new boyfriend is my best friend, so it didn't really change anything.) walks past. He hears it, and starts singing it too. Then he sharpens his pencil, and walks back to his desk. As he walks past, everyone who hears him starts singing, too. Pretty soon the whole class is singing. My math teacher was pretty confused. But I got the whole class to sing. My ego got a lot bigger today… :)

Review!

And listen to the song!

And review!

And review about what you thought about the song!

Please? *Puppy dog eyes* I'll give you a digital hug. (Because I find no need to make the people on the Internet fat because I fed them digital bacon or cookies or brownies or cupcakes.)