Maximum Ride: The Angel Experiment

25

But not that long.

"Angel's waiting for us," Nudge said a bit later. "I mean, she's like a little sister, like everyone's little sister."

She brushed some rock dust off her already dusty tan legs and scowled, picking at a scab on her knee. "All night, when we're supposed to be asleep, me and Angel talk and tell jokes and stuff." Her large brown eyes met Fang's. "I mean, am I going to have to sleep in that room alone, whenever we get home? Max has to come back. She wouldn't let Angel go, right?"
"No," said Fang. "She won't let Angel go. Look -- you see how that big hawk, the one with the dark stripe on it's shoulders -- you see how he seems to move one wing faster than the other when he banks? It makes his bank really tight and smooth. We should try it."

Nudge looked at him. That was probably the longest speech she's ever heard Fang make.

She turned to watch the hawk he'd pointed out. "Yeah, I see what you mean." But she'd barely finished before Fang had stood up, run lightly toward the edge of the cliff, and leaped off. His large, powerful dark wings caught the air and swooped him up. Fang flew closer to where the other Hawks were circling in a kind of hawk ballet.

Nudge sighed. She really, really wished Max were here. Was Max hurt? Should they go back? She would ask Fang when he returned.

Just then he swept past her, level with their cave. "Come on!" he called. "Try it! You'll fly better."

Nudge sighed again and brushed some chocolate crumbs off her shirt. Wasn't he worried about Angel? If he was, he probably wouldn't show it, she guessed. But she knew Fang loved Angel -- he'd read to her before she learned how to read , and even now he still held her when she was upset about something.

Well, I might as well practice too. Better than sitting around doing nothing. She flung herself off the cliff, unable to keep a bittersweet happiness from flooding her chest. It just felt so -- beautiful, to float in the air, to move her wings strongly and feel herself glide freely through space.

She flew along side Fang, and he demonstrated the move for her. She watched him and imitated it. It worked great.

She flew in huge circles, practicing the move and flying closer to the hawks, who seemed to be tolerating her. As long as she didn't think about Max or Angel, she would be okay.

That evening Nudge lay on her stomach, he wings flat out around her, and watching the parent hawks grooming their young. They were so gentile, so attentive. These fierce strong birds were carefully smoothing their fledglings' molted white feathers, feeding them, helping them get out of the best to practice flying.

A lump came to her throat. She sniffled.

"What?" said Fang.

"These birds," said Nudge, wiping her eyes and feeling stupid. "Like, these dumb hawks have more of a mom than I ever had. The parents are taking care of the little ones no one ever did that for me. Well, besides Max. But she's not a mom."

"Yeah. I get it." Fang didn't look at her. His voice almost sounded sad.

The sun set, and the hawks settled down in their nests. Finally, the raucous fledglings quieted. When it had been dark for an hour, Fang edged closer to Nudge and held out his left hand in a fist. Nudge looked up at him, then stacked her left fist on top of his. It was something the flock always did together before bedtime.

Except they hadn't done it when they'd fallen asleep in that cabin last night. And now it was just the two of them.

Nudge tapped his fist with her right hand, and he tapped hers.

"Night," she whispered, as if everything she cared about had been ripped away from her. Silently, she curled up against the wall of the cave.

"Night, Nudge," whispered Fang.