AN: Ok, so just a quick note – I am setting this in England, so if there's anything you don't get about the Englishness - like school or whatever – just ask me. Also, I don't own Max Ride – duh

Max POV

"But Dad, I don't want to go!" I yelled at him for like the tenth time today, and countless times this week. My Dad, Jeb Batchelder was a stupid scientist, who takes his work way more seriously than me, and he's been given this big new dumb project that requires him practically disappearing off the edge of the planet for 3 years! So guess what? He's shipping me away from my school, away from my friends, away from my house to go live in the countryside with my Mom, who I haven't seen since I was way too young to remember her.

You see, my mom and dad never really got on all that well. Dad claims that staying with my mom, settling down and having a kid was all part of one of his "experiments" into human behaviour or something crap like that. Anyway, it's not all as bad as it sounds, but he didn't need to stay with my mom once I was old enough to talk, that was all he needed for his experiment, but of course, when he left my mom devastated, he took me with him to kind of see how I "developed". I know, he sounds crazy, and honestly – he is. But he's my Dad; he's always taken the best care of me. And now he's leaving me. And I don't even know my Mom, or her other kids!

"I don't care Maximum, this work is important, and I'm not leaving you here on your own, and that is Final. You leave in the morning, so pack your things already, and remember, you can only take what you can carry on the train."

UURGH, my Dad is so annoying! I can't leave any of my things! What would I do without my books? Or my guitar!

I sat with my arms crossed on my bed glaring at him as he left my room, and then sighed and signed onto chat with my friends on my laptop.

Sam: Hey Max

Max: ..Hey

Sam: What's up?

Long pause – I haven't told anyone yet. Deep breath.

Max: I'm leaving

Longer pause…

Sam: WHAT?

Max: Sorry

Sam: What do you mean, you're leaving?

Max: Dad's doing a scientifical disappearing act, so I'm being sent to my Mom's

Sam: Oh…

BOB (for all intensive purposes - an unimportant character, who'se name was changed) has joined the conversation.

Max: I'm going in the morning

Bob: What do you mean? Where are you going in the morning?

Sam: She's leaving us Bob.

Max: Hey! I don't want to go.

Bob: Where? Why?

Max: Sam can explain, I have to go pack. I'm really sorry guys. I'll miss you loads!

MAX has left the conversation.

Oh God, I hated that. I really should have told them in person weeks ago when I found out. I guess I was just still holding on to that shred of hope that I wouldn't really have to go.

I sighed and pulled a bag out of the cupboard and started shoving clothes in. When it came to clothes, I didn't really have a lot. Just stuck to jeans, relatively simple t-shirts, the occasional hoodie and my converse's in various stages of falling apart. I shoved in my bathroom essentials and a few books where they could fit. Then I stuffed my laptop into it's case, and shoved my guitar music in the front. Then I got another bag out, and filled it with more books, who cares if I did have to carry it? Then I got my trusty acoustic guitar off it's hook and found the case under my bed.

"Just me and you now," I muttered, and yes, I did just talk to my guitar. You try feeling this alone. Sighing, I picked up things like my phone charger, ipod and speakers and shoved them into spaces in the bags until I didn't think I could fit anything else. And then, on second thought, I located my sketch book and pencils and jammed them into the back of my laptop bag.

Then I collapsed back onto my bed and took the photo from my bedside table that my Mom had sent me on my sixteenth birthday last week, with a note attached on the back about how excited they all were to having me come live with them. It was a photo of her, her second oldest daughter (after me), Ella, who was nearly fifteen, her son Gazzy (seems like a weird name to me) who's ten, and her youngest daughter Angel (also strange name, but sweet and totally suited the girl in the photo) who's eight. They looked so happy and "family"-like in the photo, that I felt like I was completely going to intrude their little bubble.

Eventually, I settled for going to bed, after sending a text round to the rest of my less "close" friends, saying sorry and that I would miss them. I didn't sleep very well at all that night, well I never slept easily, but this was especially bad.

Somehow I must have drifted eventually though, because when I opened one eye, I saw the full summer glare streaming in from my windows, it was still the summer holidays, so light arrived way to early in the morning, but when I checked my clock I realised I only had about fifteen minutes to shower, get dressed and get something to eat, which proved to be the most time consuming thing as I tend to have a HUGE appetite, and Dad ended up yelling at me from the car, having already loaded my stuff.

When we got to the station, Dad helped me carry my stuff to the platform and gave me a disapproving look when he lifted the bag with the books.

"Honestly, Maximum – how are you going to carry all this?"

"Stop calling me Maximum, Dad." I glared at him. He only did it when he was trying to assert his authority over me.

"I'm sorry Max." He looked me in the eyes, it looked like he was crying. "I really will miss you kid."

"Urgh, 'Kid' is even worse. Don't make this worse than it is Dad." I said and stood there looking at him awkwardly, well, I wasn't going to cry. Maximum Martinez-Batchelder never cries.

"Alright Max, I love you ok. See you soon."

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't be doing this, and no, you won't see me soon, you're disappearing for 3 years."

"Well, about that, it may be more like 5 now…but I do love you Max, honestly. You're the only thing that's really worth anything to me, apart from my work. I'm sorry."

"Ok. Bye Dad." I stood there almost regretfully as he left looking really sad by my lack of a soppy goodbye, well what did he expect?

But that's the difference between me and him, he'll always love his work more than me, and ok, I'm not the most open person when it comes to affections, but he's still my Dad, he still raised me, and he still comes first. Or at least he did, I thought sadly as the train pulled up behind me and I lugged my very heavy bags on, regretting the last few books I shoved in.

Time for my new life to begin, I thought as the train slowly pulled away and started speeding up. Bye Bye city life.