Hey People! I'm trying out an all-human story. Pretty overused topic but I'll give it my all.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure I don't own Maximum Ride. Lemme go check… Damn! It's James Patterson's! I was getting hopeful there for a second.
Here you go:
I'm Maximum Ride. I'm the girl with the attitude. I'm the girl you don't want to mess with. I'm also… moving.
I know what you're thinking. Actually, I don't. I know what I'm thinking. I'm thinking how much it fucking sucks my mom got a job in California and that I have to leave Arizona. I've expressed this to my mother many times (Minus the swear words. I'm a good child, thank you very much!). Unfortunately, she just shrugs it off and tells me that this job in California will give her the money to support our family. We aren't poor, but we aren't rich. With my dad having had died 6 years ago when I was 10, my mom has to take care of this family alone.
My little sister, Ella, was on the total other end of the spectrum on her idea of this move. She's only a month into high school and didn't have a reputation yet, let alone one she wanted to keep. Ella kept telling me how "awesome" this opportunity was and how we would get a chance to meet "amazing new people".
I loved my reputation back in Arizona. It was amazing. I was known as "the badass with the cute boyfriend". Said boyfriend had to be broken up with because of said moving of locations. Sam had been so hurt, but even he knew long distance relationships didn't work.
Just to clear things up for you, I'm 16 and a month into junior year. Ella is 14 and a month into freshman year. Ella and I have to start this new school a month after everyone else. Just peachy, isn't it?
When we got to our new house it didn't exactly astound me, but I'm not complaining. It was a cozy-looking 3 bedroom with the exterior painted white and the interior walls were mostly painted a cream color. Crap, did I just say it looked cozy? Max, you're not allowed to like this place already! And now I'm talking in third-person! God, I'm a psychopath. At least I'm a psychopath with my own room! Before we had lived in a 2 bedroom with Ella and I sharing a room.
As much as I kept my calm, cool, and I'm-pissed-off-we're-living-here look on the outside, I was itching to see my room.
"Max. Your room is at the end of the hall. Ella, yours is the first door at the left." My mom told us.
Ella squealed and I rolled my eyes, even though I was just as excited.
Bad Max! You can't be excited! You can't like it here. Your heart is in Arizona, right?
Maybe I should stop arguing with myself.
Nah… you don't actually talk to yourself… out loud. So, who cares?
Good point. Anyways, my room is a pale green, with a darker green rug on the floor. It was very… how to describe it? Earthy? No… but it was nice. My bed was in the corner of the room and on the other side of the room there was a bookcase. I wasn't the active reader, but whatever.
Now is a good time to take a short nap. Yeah, just fifteen minutes of closing my eyes and-
I shot straight up. Geez, is someone trying to kill me? Ella came into my room looking pissed.
"You've been asleep for 3 hours! And you promised before we left that we could go tour the neighborhood! Now it's seven o' clock and we can't." She pouted.
Actually, I didn't remember promising that. And, unfortunately for her, pouting didn't have quite the affect on me that it did when she was seven. Wait, seven. Seven o' clock! DINNER! Yes, that did require all caps and three, count 'em, three exclamation points. What? I'm a hearty eater. Go sue me.
"Mom, what are we eating?" I asked as I entered the kitchen.
"Maximum!" She rolled her eyes. "Is that all you ever think about?"
"Hmmm…" I pretended to contemplate. "Yes."
That got another eye roll out of her but she set a stack of quesadillas on the table all the same. I piled 4 on my plate and plowed right through them.
These were not the crappy kind you get from Taco Bell. These were real. These were the kind only my mom could make. I am proud to say I'm Hispanic. A whole 50%, actually. Though no one could actually tell. I took after my dad. I had chocolate-brown eyes, an athletic build, and swishy brown-blond hair. I was pretty tall at 5' 8". The only trait that I think even connected my mom and I together was my tan skin.
My sister was something entirely different, though. She was a carbon copy of my mother when she was Ella's age. Ella was even tanner than I was with dark brown hair going down to mid-back. She was shorter than me, but by no means short at 5'5".
Most people even had trouble connecting us as sisters. To add to this factor, my mother had decided to change her name back to Martinez a few years after my father's death. Ella changed it with her, but I kept it as Ride. Something about the name suited me.
I'm Maximum Ride. I don't know how to be anybody else.
Those were the two sentences I thought as I thanked my mom for dinner, gave Ella a hug goodnight, and drifted off to sleep.
Cliché? Yes. Am I still going to try this? Hell yeah!
Question of the chapter: Who is you're favorite MR character, besides Max of course. (I'm not letting you off that easy!)