The Angel Experiment: Rusty

1

Above is how I visualize Rusty

                              • • • •

The first thing I noticed when I awoke today, was that my window was wide open.
Once again I'd forgotten to close it when I came back from my training last night.

Yawning I climbed out of bed, shivering as the cool air nipped my exposed arms and legs.

Next came stretching.

I grinned when the satisfying sound of my bones cracking filled my silent bedroom.

I then unfurled my wings until they were stretched out to their full length. Their reddish-brown, black tipped feathers gleamed in the sunlight.

After looking through my dresser I quickly changed into a pale blue tank top, a thin, grey button up shirt, dark blue jeans, and a pair of black and white sneakers.

Glancing at my mirror I did a quick once over, making sure everything was in order.

Long, rusty-brown hair? Check!
Freckles on my cheeks and nose? Check!
Steel grey eyes? Check!

Content with my appearance I left my room, tip-toeing down the hallway until I reached the stairs.

Tying my hair up in a ponytail I raced down the stairs, jumping off the last step gracefully.

Walking into the kitchen I spotted Max searching for breakfast.

Perhaps I should explain a few things.

My name is Rusty, after my rusty-brown hair.

Max's full name is Maximum Ride, she's also the leader our group. Known as the Flock, we are a group of seven kids with wings. Four years ago we escaped from the school, the organization that created us. A man named Jeb Batchelder had helped us to escape. He even took care of us in this big, E-shaped house until two years ago, when he disappeared without a trace.

"Please tell me you aren't considering making us breakfast." I moaned, crossing my arms while I leaned against the entryway to the kitchen.

Max ignored my comment, as usual.

Hearing the sound of footsteps behind me I turned, smiling when I saw the Gasman - Gazzy for short - walking towards us while still wearing his pjs.

"Morning, Gaz." I greeted, ruffling his blond hair.

"Mornin', Rusty." Gazzy replied, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Mornin', Max." he mumbled, shuffling towards Max.

"Morning, Gazzy." she said as Gazzy slumped at the table, rubbing his back while dropping a kiss on his forehead.

Gazzy's name, the Gasman, came from his funky digestive system.

I know.

We have a lot of strange names in our flock, but most of our names were chosen by us - like Max. While others - like me - were given to us because they suited us perfectly.

Gazzy blinked, glancing between Max and I with his cute blue eyes

"What's for breakfast?" he asked.

I looked over at Max, 'Yeah, Max. What is for breakfast?' I thought, smirking at her.

Looks like me or Iggy will have to make breakfast, again.

Once again Max ignored me, "It's surprise," she told Gazzy, even though she clearly had no idea what we should have.

"I'll pour juice," Gazzy offered, such a sweet little boy.

Sighing I collapsed onto the couch, deciding to wait just a little longer before I made breakfast.

A few minutes later Iggy came downstairs, slouching his way into the kitchen.

With his eyes closed he fell onto our beat-up couch with perfect aim, landing right next to me.

The only time I've seen Iggy have trouble with his blindness, is when Max and the others forget and move furniture or something.

"Hey, Ig, rise and shine," Max said, "You too, Rus."

"Bite me," Iggy and I mumbled, a little louder I added "And don't call me Rus!"

"Fine," Max said. "Miss breakfast."

'That's kinda hard to do when we're the ones who can cook.' I thought, but kept my mouth shut.

Biting my lip I looked over at Iggy, blushing when I noticed how close we were on the couch.

Iggy and I were both six months younger than Max, yet somehow, Iggy seemed to be the tallest kid in the Flock. His skin was pale, his strawberry blonde hair was still a little messy from waking up this morning, his blind, pale blue eyes were still closed. He looked so peaceful that I couldn't help but smile, my freckled cheeks stained an annoying rosy pink.

Turning my focus back to Max I smiled when I noticed a familiar dark figure standing behind her. Figuring out who was behind her Max turned around, "Will you quit that?" she said.

"Quit what?" Fang asked calmly, "Breathing?"

Max rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

I couldn't stop myself from laughing out loud.

Fang was the second oldest after Max. He had olive-coloured skin, black hair so long it desperately needed a haircut, and he preferred wearing black clothing.

He also had a habit of being so quiet, he could walk right up behind you without so much as a single sound.

Sadly though, Fang wasn't the only one around here that could move so quietly.

With a grunt, Iggy staggered upright. "I'll make eggs," he announced.

"I'll help!" I volunteered, following Iggy into the kitchen. Heating up the stove I patiently watched while Iggy got the ingredients we needed.

"If you even think about putting that spicy hot sauce in my eggs again, Iggy, I while feed you to a bunch of man-eating sharks," I said calmly, not looking at Iggy while I started cracking the eggs into a large bowl.

A scary thing about me is that I lack a filter, and when I threaten somebody I normally follow through with it.

Unfortunately, being my best friend meant Iggy was almost completely immune to my death threats.

"For the last time, it was just a stupid joke," Iggy groaned.

"A joke that ended with my tongue burning for half an hour," I snapped irritably.

"It was Gazzy's idea!" Iggy tried defending himself.

"But you're the one who touched my food!"

I could feel my cheeks heating with anger, out of everyone in the Flock my temper was the worst.

Taking a deep breath I forced myself to calm down. "Do you want me to make the toast?" I asked, eager to change the subject.

Iggy nodded.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence for almost ten minutes, until I spoke.

"And no hot sauce," I added teasingly.

"Sometimes, I wonder how I manage to put up with you," Iggy grumbled.

"Oh please," I laughed, "You'd be lost without me.