"Are you sure this is safe?" Dylan asked, peering timidly over the edge of the roof.

"Of course," I said quickly, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. "Us bird-kids do this all the time."

"If you say so…" He didn't seem so sure, but held his tongue, probably remembering what I'd told him about not arguing with me.

"I say so. Now stop whining." I waited until I was sure he was listening. "Now, the first thing you're going to do is stand on the very edge." I changed my voice into my super sweet, persuasive tone that I always use when I'm trying to convince adults that I'm not going to steal from them. "And then I'm going to push you."

The goof actually seemed kind of excited. "I'll have my wings out and ready, right?"

"Oh, God, no!" I said, making a horrified face. Dylan looked confused. "Don't worry," I assured him. "Most amateurs make the mistake of thinking that, too. But trust me, you do not want to try and use your wings the first time you jump off a building."

Now he was even more confused. He glanced over the edge, quickly, and then back at me, as if he was afraid I would shove him without warning. (Maybe he was smarter then I'd thought.)

"So I'm just going to… jump?"

"Exactly! Before you learn to fly, you need to know how it feels to free-fall. To get used to the… um… sensation of the, uh, air. You're just gonna let yourself drop to the ground."

"Um, Max? I know I don't know much, but… won't that hurt?"

"It's just a tiny little leap, Dylan. Besides, it would probably hurt more if you just whipped your wings out mid-air. No amount of magic healing spit will be able to snap those babies back into their sockets." He wasn't convinced. "Honestly, Dylan, even Angel was able to do this right when she was first learning to fly, and she was like, two." I sighed deeply, and stepped closer to him. I slipped my hand into his, and put the other on his bicep, causing him to shudder just a little, like it was the most pleasant sensation ever.

So I milked it, stroking his arm just a little. "Don't you trust me?" I purred.

There was no hesitation. "Of course I do, Max," Dylan said softly, blue eyes staring into mine intently. The poor naïve sucker.

"Great!" I gripped his hand and dragged him toward the edge of the roof. "Then stand right here!" He did exactly what I said. "Pull your wings in a little more. Tighter… tighter… perfect!" I had to give the boy a little credit- he only looked slightly afraid that he was possibly about to plummet to his death.

Which, of course, was exactly my plan.

"Ready, Freddie?"

"Not qui-"

"ONETWOTHREEGO!" I mercilessly shoved him over the edge.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaxxxxx!" The word dragged on as Dylan fell to his doom.

And then I realized the true horror of what had just happened:

I had shoved Dylan off the roof.

On the side of the house where my mom had just planted her new rosebushes.

Shit. If he fell into them, his body would undoubtedly crush their branches. In which case, I'd be dead to my mom.

And also, he might survive.

I couldn't let either of those things happen. The consequences were too terrible to think about.

But by the time the rest of me caught up with my brain, it was too late. There was a loud thump, and I knew Mr. Perfect had just made his crash-landing.

I took a deep breath. Don't panic, Max. If he'd hit the rosebushes, the noise would have sounded more like a crunch.

Yeah, because that was my luck. I took another breath and forced myself to look over the edge, ready to catalogue the damages-

Nothing. I blinked in confusion.

There was nothing on the ground that was out of the ordinary (except for what, after a few seconds of examination, I realized was the charred remains of a lawn gnome. Gazzy and I were going to have a serious talk later.) There was no dead bird-kid. No blood or guts. Nothing but dirt.

It was too good to be true.

"Dylan?" I asked, hesitantly.

No reply.

"Dylan?" Louder, now. "DYLAN?!"

Nothing.

This. Was. Awesome.

I gave myself a mental pat on the back for my unique problem-solving skills (How to Get Rid of Your Stalker 101!) and decided it was time to get back inside for a celebratory make-out session with Fang. He'd be thrilled to learn that I'd just obliterated the source of all our relationship problems. Thanks to moi, everything could go back to the way it was supposed to b-

"Hey, Max!" There was the sound of footsteps on gravel, and a cough. "Max!"

No. NO. No no no no no no no no no no no no!

It couldn't be. There was no way. I'd just pushed him off the roof, for God's sake!

"Max? Are you still up there?"

Try as I might- and believe me, I tried- I just couldn't make myself believe that this particular voice was a delusion.

"I'm here!" I called back, hating my incompetence. (Seriously, how hard was it to kill someone these days? Was I losing my touch?) "Are you hurt?" I couldn't quite keep the longing tone from saturating my voice.

If Dylan heard it, he didn't let on. "Nope! I'm fit as a fiddle!" (…Fit as a fiddle? Who says that?)

Praying that this was all a huge mistake, I peeked over the edge.

And lo and behold, Dylan was standing there. Perfectly intact. Without so much as a scratch.

And his hair wasn't even tousled. Asshole.

"No freaking way!" I yelled. His bones should have been crushed the second he'd hit the ground. He had no right to ruin my plan. No right to look so damn pleased with himself.

At the very least, he could have gotten a papercut on the grass or something.

"That was great, Max! You were right! I could totally sense the air as I was falling! It was like I could feel the thermals-"

"You're not hurt," I said dumbly. I was shocked. "Seriously?" I glared at him suspiciously. "You didn't hit the rosebushes, did you?"

"Nope! I did exactly as you said, keeping my wings in tight! And then I just kind of… fell. And landed on my feet." He got a speculative look in his eye. "Maybe there's cat DNA in my genes."

Sure, Dylan. Or maybe you're just an invincible freak. One who's on steroids.

"That… was crazy." Dylan seemed too happy he'd survived to hear me. "Not cool, dude."

"It was way cool, Max! Seriously, what a rush! I'm so jumping off of the roof more often!"

"Great." I didn't bother trying to sound enthused.

And then, I got it. My most brilliant idea yet.

"Great," I said again, more enthusiastic this time. "You were really great, Dylan. An A-plus-plus for flying lesson number one. Tomorrow we'll be able to move on to the next step."

His face lit up like Nudge's during Paris Fashion Week. "What's that?"

"More of the same."

He scoffed. "Easy!"

"Oh, it's really easy."

And then I smiled at him, a real authentic-looking smile.

Because next time, he would be jumping off a cliff.

A/N - Heheheh. You can tell I had fun writing this. Review?