What happens when Max needs a few things that Jeb can't buy on the Internet? Or alone? Why? Because he's a guy. You should understand. Max is twelve. Get it now?

This is not going to end well.

Max POV

I woke up in the morning feeling strangely . . . disporportionet. Holy crap. Did I really just use that word? Did I even spell it right? Oh, who the Hell cares? Why am I still asking these questions to myself?

Back to my disporportionetness. My back hurt, and I kept leaning forward for some reason. Look, I don't know why, but I am. Blame the bird genes.

I sighed and pulled a t-shirt out of my drawer. I put it on and frowned. It showed some of my stomach . . . oh, well. I'll just "borrow" one of Fang's. I pulled on my jeans, which were a bit tight in the waist. I stuffed my feet into my worn out tennis shoes that had holes in the toes, but they were comfortable, so I dealed.

I walked out of the room and down the small hall, and slipped into Fang's room. He was still asleep, which was just weird. I shrugged and slid open one of his top drawers. Oopsies. I blushed furiously and closed it, then went down a drawer and it squeaked. I winced.

"What the Hell are you doing?" he asked, sitting up in bed.

"My shirt doesn't fit," I told him truthfully.

He raised an eyebrow. "And this has to do with me how . . . ?"

I sighed and opened the drawer. "I was going to borrow one of yours."

"Oh." He rubbed his eyes with his fists. "I want it back."

Damn. "M'kay," I said and pulled a black shirt out from his drawer. I walked out of Fang's room and into mine, and changed the shirt, not bothering to look down. It fit much better than mine. And I liked that shirt . . .

I sighed again and started to make a pile of dirty clothes. Who knew there would be so many of them after a week? Then again, I went through about five shirts a day because they were stained with either Fang's, Iggy's, Jeb's, or my blood. Rarely mine. Mostly Fang's. He just gets on my nerves sometimes.

After all of my dirty clothes were in a pile, I made my room relatively nice eough. I didn't have a bunch of junk all over my floor, so that counted as clean.

"Max!" Jeb called from the kitchen. "Breakfast is almost ready!"

"M'Kay!" I called back and put all my dirty clothes into a hamper, then exited the room. I walked down the hall and into the living room, and put the hamper down on the couch, next to all the other ones there. Laundry day. Fun.

I walked into the dining/computer room, and ruffled Gazzy's hair. He smiled up at me, but narrowed his eyes, shrugged, and went back to fidling with some wires. Alrighty then . . .

"Mornin', Angel," I said with a smile and kissed my baby's cheek.

"Morning, Max," she said and smiled at me. She threw her arms around my neck and gave me a big hug. I hugged her back, and when she pulled back, she was frowning.

"What's wrong, baby?" I asked her.

"You have something poking through your shirt," she said, and pointed at my chest. I looked down, and sure enough, I had big . . . lumps where my chest was supposed to be.

My eyes widened, and I took a deep breath, still looking at my chest. It only made it bigger.

"Jeb!" Iggy called. "Something's wrong with Max's chest!" How did the blind kid know that? I have no idea.

A loud clang of a pan sounded in the kitchen, and Jeb rushed into the room, and stared at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked Jeb. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Max," Jeb said and went to the computer. He seemed to be having a nervous breakdown. He kept fidling with his hands, and his jaw twitched every two seconds, and his eye kept jumping.

"That's what they always say before-" Iggy started, but Jeb cut him off.

"Iggy!" he snapped.

"Before what?" I asked, rubbing my arms, then crossing them in front of my chest, then repeated the rubbing and crossing.

Iggy widened his eyes and put him plams on the table, and leaned into me. "Before thay kill you."

My eyes widened. "J-Jeb? A-are you g-going to k-kill me?"

Jeb glared at Iggy, which was wasted since he's blind. "No, I'm not going to kill you."

"That's what they always say," Iggy said.

"Iggy," Fang growled. "Enough. She's creeped out."

"She should be," Iggy snapped. "I bet Jeb is gonna get her while she's asleep."

That's when I snapped my fist back and punched him straight in the eye. Most people think its best to hit them in the nose, because it's easy. But it takes real skill to get them right in the eye. He's going to have a black eye for another two to four weeks.

"Ow, Max!" he yelled, covering his eye. "What the Hell? !"

I bolted out of the room, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes.

I bet Jeb's going to get her while she's asleep. A tear slid down my cheek, and I ran into my room, and slammed the door behind me. I slid down it and wrapped my arms around my legs, and put my head on my knees.

A few seconds later, a knock came on the door.

"Go away," I said.

"Max," Fang said. "Open the door."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"NO."

"YES."

"GO AWAY!"

"NO. Max, open the door."

"I said no. Did you not hear me?"

He sighed, and I could almost see him running a frustrated hand through his too long hair. "Max . . . Please."

I sucked in a breath. Fang never said please. Ever. Not once in his or my entire life has he ever, ever said please.

Must . . . resist . . . dammit. I opened the door about a centimeter and looked at him. He glared at me. I opened it a little more, and he slipped into the room.

I walked over to my closet and pulled out a hoodie, and slipped it over my head. And guess what? It didn't fit right. I groaned and pulled at the hoodie, until it just touched the waist of my pants.

"Are you ok?" Fang asked.

I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I walked over to the bed where Fang was laying, staring at the ceiling. I layed down next to him, and put my head on my shoulder. "Yeah . . . I guess."

"Liar."

"I know."

We stayed in a comfortable silence for a little while, until Fang said, "You know he was just being an ass, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I do now."

We sat in silence for a little while, until someone knoced on my door. Why are they ruining the moment? Wait, what?

"Go away," I muttered, and sank into Fang, which was weird, but comfortable. Like I belonged there.

"Max," Jeb's voice said from the ther side of the door. "Open up."

"No," I said.

"I need to talk to you," he said, sounding annoyed.

"Well talk," I said and Fang put an arm around my shoulder. Weird again, but comforting.

" . . . I need to talk to you without Fang being in there. It's private."

"You said we don't keep secrets in this house, Jeb," I said. Jeb . . . said . . . funny. Maybe I should be a comedian.

"No . . . but this isn't a secret. Fang will learn when he's older."

"Why not tell him now?" I asked. I was mainly doing this just to get on his nerves, but I really didn't want Fang to leave. He was really warm . . . I did not just think that.

"Because, Max," Jeb growled.

I looked at Fang, and he shrugged. Thanks for the help . . .

"Whatever, Jeb," I said and walked over to the door. I opened it and glared at the Iggy he held by the scruff of his neck. "You're not bringing him are you?"

Jeb sighed. "No. Iggy, apologize."

Iggy mumbled an apology.

"What was that?" I asked him.

"I'm soffy," he said.

"Soffy?" Fang asked behind me, and chuckled. I jumped. He needed to stop doing that . . .

"I'm sorry, happy?" Iggy asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No. But I can't kill you, so I'll take the apology," I growled.

"Now, boys, go . . . fight or something," Jeb said, and patted Iggy on the back. I pushed his shoulders, and he pushed me back. We continued to push each other, until Jeb pulled us apart before I could cause him any more harm. Iggy stomped away, and Fang slipped past me without making a sound.

Jeb walked into the room, and closed the door behind him. Even though I knew Iggy was just being an ass, I made sure I was closet to the window.

He ran a hand through his hair an sat on my bed.

"Out with it," I said.

"Max . . . you need a bra," he said, and he sounded relieved that he could say it.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "A what?"

Well . . . that's it for now! I'll be updating soon because I really like this idea.

JP: *gags*

Tank: I think I'm gonna be sick . . .

Skid: Oh, stop being a bunch of babies!

Me: Yeah, it's not that bad!

JP: You're not a guy.