Angel

52

IF BY “INTERESTING” I meant uncomfortable, awkward, infuriating, and horrible… then, yes, it was going to be most interesting.

I met Max II’s eyes coolly. “I distinctly remember totally not trying to kill you.”

I just couldn’t believe it. I’d been so miserable since Fang had left, crying in the shower, crying up in trees, not sleeping, losing weight… so pathetic that they’d made me go to my mom’s house—and in the meantime, Fang had quickly replaced us, gotten a haircut, and bought some new clothes. He looked perfectly fine. I clenched my fists under the table. Plus, he’d totally replaced me with me. It was so unfair.

“Anyway,” I said. “Give me the scoop. And a menu.”

Over the next half hour, Fang told us all the stuff they’d found out about the Doomsday Group, about the rally and Beth and the One Light. We told them about how DG fever was sweeping Arizona, how fast it was spreading. I also told him about seeing the weird computer guy out in the middle of the desert. Fang frowned.

“So basically, these people are talking mass destruction,” said Dylan. “They’ve managed to alter who knows how many people”—he gestured to Fang’s gang—“and to brainwash even more. But where did they come from?”

“We don’t know,” Fang said curtly, not looking at him. “That’s what we’ve been saying.”

I saw Dylan’s jaw set. “Yeah? Is that what you’ve been saying? I must have missed that part. I thought you were still comparing pointless details.”

Hey, wait a minute! Digging Fang was supposed to be my job…

“We’re here to make a difference,” Dylan continned. “So let’s get to the point. The mission.”

Fang’s eyes flashed, and the energy that passed between him and Dylan could have made a hot dog sizzle. Gosh, guys are so cute, with that alpha male stuff. It’s adorable!

“I agree,” Max II jumped in, and somehow I felt like she was trespassing on my territory. “The question is, are we gonna join forces?”

“Yeah, Max,” I said snidely. “That’s a good idea. Put our two happy little families together. Then sit back and watch the fireworks.”

She looked at me matter-of-factly. “My name isn’t Max. It’s Maya.”

“Maya? You’re kidding, right?” Now, I’m not saying I’m not usually obnoxious, ’cause, actually, I admit that I usually am. But I don’t think I’m usually this obnoxious. At least, not to someone who wasn’t a whitecoat or some other misguided, controlling grown-up.

Max/Maya blushed, and I could tell she was clenching her fists under the table. “Shut up,” she said. “Who asked you?”

I stood up so fast my chair tipped backward. The other Max—I mean, Maya—stood up fast too. I was ready to punch someone’s lights out.

“Catfight!” The guy wearing the shades snickered, and the icy blond girl elbowed him in the ribs, but she was smiling.

Dylan pushed back his chair, watching us carefully. Gazzy paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, as if gauging how many bites he could take before a battle broke out.

“Max,” Fang said firmly, “we’re not going to do this. Not here, not now.”

Dylan frowned. “Don’t tell her what to do! This is all your fault anyway!”

Fang looked at Dylan as angrily as I looked at Maya.

“Come on, Max,” Fang said, throwing down his napkin. “Let’s take this outside. You and me. It’s time to settle this.”

“Fine,” I said, turning and stomping to the door. It was about time.