Disclaimer: Not mine. JP's.

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This is just an idea that's been floating around in my head for a while, so I finally had to sit down and write it. It's Max/Melanie's point of view here. Hope you like it!

-Max

Ch. 1 – Starting

The first thing I noticed was the shrill shrieking of the alarm clock, like a fire drill, only more contained. I groaned and rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. The fluffy down provided temporary relief from the noise, but I couldn't escape from the fact that I had to get up.

I lay there for another moment, then sighed and rolled up into a sitting position. I've never been much of a morning person. But I can deal with sleepiness. I have for fourteen years. The joys of being a teenage girl.

Let me back up a sec.

I'm Melanie, Mel for short. Recently my family moved to Los Angeles from Maine. A great job opportunity opened up for my dad there, so we packed up and shipped our stuff and ourselves across the country.

To be honest, I didn't really mind. I mean, I went through the expected pre-friendship stresses, but towards the time we actually moved, I found myself looking forward to it. I wasn't exactly the most liked person at my school in Maine, and I've always thirsted for adventure. And change can be adventure, so this move qualified.

Anyway, now here I was, dragging myself up out of bed to get changed and have breakfast for my first Monday at Lakewood Prep.

I sat down at the table while my mom got me a bowl of Cheerios. I was sure I was a complete mess, but I couldn't have cared less. I eagerly spooned all the cereal into my mouth, suddenly ravenous.

"Thanks," I told her, a little self-conscious. Gratitude and apologies have never been my thing. Personally, I think the world would be a much more efficient place if we just took down all the rules of etiquette and manners. But we haven't, and I'm not the one deciding these things.

"No problem," she replied, a smile glued onto her face. How she managed it at this hour of the morning, I have no idea.

That was pretty much it for conversation between us. I ate some toast in silence, and she read a magazine and drank her coffee.

I curled up in a big chair, a soft blanket over my legs, and continued rereading the second Maximum Ride book for the umpteenth time. Ever since I was introduced to these books, they've been my favorites. Nothing has come close to comparing. I don't know why I like them so much. I guess it's just that they're funny and they have good messages. And I really like the characters.

I go through book phases. Periods of intense obsession. Once I went through a Harry Potter phase, once I went through a Twilight phase. Now it's Maximum Ride. I mean, I've even had dreams about it. Yeah. It's that intense.

So I ate and read and slowly woke up. It was the usual routine, just in a different setting. California, not Maine.

After breakfast I got my stuff together and we headed out. I was only a little apprehensive as we pulled into the Lakewood Prep parking lot. Our Mercedes-Benz fit in with the other Mercedes-Benzes and the Porsches and the Ferraris that dominated the parking lot.

I waved my mom goodbye and walked toward the door of the school.

It wasn't at first a very impressive sight. Red brick building, two stories, with the words Lakewood Preparatory High School on the front. As soon as I stepped through the dusty glass doors, though, I was immediately overwhelmed by what I saw.

It wasn't two stories – it was one big open space with ceilings like a cathedral and paintings on the walls like an art gallery. The front wall was covered by a gigantic mural of angels with wings above the people of the earth, who appeared to be engaged in war. The other walls were a deep green, but in a way that made the light coming in from the windows stand out. Then there were tons of sculptures and other artworks which seemed to compliment the room perfectly. There were trees growing from the floor and there were terra cotta window-box-like things on the walls with green plants overflowing and dangling down towards anyone below.

It was beautiful.

I snapped back to reality as someone in a red shirt with Donald Trump's picture on it bumped into me. He seemed to know where he was going.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Hey, wait!" I tried to say, but he was gone. I sighed and tried to look for someone else around my age who would be able to point me in the right direction.

It didn't take long. Another girl passed by, chatting with two friends. Her curly red hair perfectly framed her round face, and her small hazel eyes darted up to me as soon as I tapped her shoulder.

"Umm, could you tell me where Room 201 is?" I asked her.

"Yeah. I'm going to 203, so I could take you there," she offered. I smiled at her. Her friends waved her goodbye and headed away from us.

"Thanks," I said, relieved. "I'm new here, so..."

"Oh, it's fine. I'm Amanda, by the way."

"Melanie."

"Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." We started walking down a hall with hard wood floors, our footsteps clapping loudly every step. I had to resist the urge to start tap dancing.

"So what school do you come from?" asked Amanda.

"You wouldn't have heard of it. It's in Maine," I explained. Her eyes widened a fraction.

"Maine? Really? Cool. I've never met anyone from the East Coast. Did you like it there?"

"Yeah. I guess. It's not really that different. Not yet, anyway." I smiled.

"Well, I hope you like it here," she said, stopping abruptly. "This is 201. I'll see you at lunch, I guess?"

"Yeah. Lunch."

"'Kay."

I strode into my history class confidently, smiling defiantly on the inside. Glowing with pride. I hadn't even had my first class and I already had a friend.

Maybe this would all turn out okay after all.

Virtual cookie for anyone who reviews, floating around in cyberspace. It could be yours... Just tell me what you thought, please. Flames gladly welcomed. I just want honest opinions, basically. Don't feel like you have to sugar-coat it if you think the creation of this was the worst catastrophe that's happened since Vas O No Vas was cancelled.