A/N- After being bitten by a cat and spider the other day, I really hope some super powers are going to show up. (Sort of like my Hogwarts letter, which I'm sure is lost in the mail.)

A bit of an explanation – That Night will be updated, but irregularly; it's just a pet project, while this is my main story.

Reviews? Cool. Funny reviews? Cooler. Funny reviews that make me snort milk over the keyboard and cause me to have to somehow explain to my parents why I need a new keyboard? Coolest.

Disclaimer- I'm a teenage girl currently singing along to Taio Cruz's Dynamite. For all I know, JP might do the same thing, but I'm doubting it. Still, I think that proves that the characters aren't mine. But who knows? I'd love to have a dance party with JP.

Whoever said love makes the world go 'round should be shot and forced to live out their days watching cute puppies being herded over cliffs.

Liars like that deserve the worst punishment possible. (Well, not the 24-hour Twilight marathon that Nudge and Angel once held. No one deserves that.) It kills me that such a popular quotation is completely wrong.

Love, certainly, would not make me stand in the freezing cold for hours on end.

Love wouldn't make me be surrounded by a bunch of prepubescent girls who should learn that makeup is supposed to make you look good, not like you tripped in a paint store.

Love wouldn't make me go to a Justin Bieber concert.

But that's what love did, and that's why it's all a big, fat lie.

Of course, it was Nudge's idea, since she had Bieber Fever just like all the other girls in the universe who don't have musical taste. (Look, I'm sorry. That was a cheap shot. I don't like cheap shots, because they're too easy to make fun of. Those include France, Sarah Palin, and Robert Pattinon's ridiculous hair.)

I should probably explain.

We were either in Michigan or Minnesota or Montana – they all start to blend together eventually. Nice place, though. It was a few months after the fall of Itex, but we were still gallivanting around and trying to deal with the few stragglers who had survived. These people just won't die.

Max's Mom had given us a few hundred bucks, which paid for food, water, and hookers. (I'm kidding on the last one, but Iggy wishes I wasn't.) It was a nice set-up. Still, it feels weird to call her Max's Mom… what should I call her? I guess Dr. M works, but that feels weird, as if she's all evil or something.

But that can't be. She's the nicest lady around. It's not like she would blow up an airport or anything. Now that would just be weird.

Anyways, moving on.

We had heard rumours from Jeb - is he a good guy or a bad guy? I can't tell any more - that there was still an Itex plant in operation near the Canadian border. Maybe they were going to try and create zombie moose or something. Now that'd be cool. I wouldn't mind fighting zombie moose.

I can't keep on track, even in my own head. That's just pathetic.

I was sitting with Max, Gazzy and Total in some café where all of the hipsters were glaring at us and our brand-name clothes. Dr. M had spent a fortune on them, but it felt nice to have sleeves that didn't have holes the size of Swiss cheese.

And the best part? I had sunglasses. Actual, badass I-have-a-machete-in-my-hand-when-I-go-to-sleep badass.

The four of us had opted to stay in the café with my laptop to do some Googling for a nearby motel. The rest of the Flock had gone out to enjoy the last of the sunshine.

The cafe was a quaint little place, with posters for upcoming indie performers tacked onto the wall, and Christmas lights strung up months early. It was filled with soft chatter and quiet laughter of people too hip to pay us any attention.

And then Nudge burst in.

It was dramatic and Kramer-like as she nearly tripped over her own feet. She got some killer glares from the baristas behind the counter. She was panting by the time she walked up to us in our corner table that made us all look anti-social, but was actually quite useful in determining who in the café wanted to kill us. The rest of the Flock straggled in, bemused.

"You're not going to believe this."

Well, crap.

Let me refresh my memory on the last few times Nudge has said those exact words.

November 4th, 2008: Every single pair of pants I owned was burnt to a crisp and baked into a pie. I'm not kidding.

January 1st, 2010: Kansas. Iggy. Tigers. Mexicans. No other words are necessary.

July 12th, 2010: Nudge posted Dr. M's address online and said that was Taylor Lautner's. When we left a month ago, we still had girls camped out on our lawn.

"What happened, Nudge?" The look on Max's face was wary. I'm sure she was repeating the same things I was in her head. "Is everyone okay?" I followed her line of sight and counted everyone behind Nudge. They were all there.

Of course, I was doing my best not to reach over and spontaneously make out with Max.

Freaking hormones.

"Everyone is fantastic!" she said, slamming her hands onto the table in emphasis. She looked at me as if she was staring into my soul. "Fang. If you love me you will do this." She dropped the serious voice and stuck out her tongue. "But not, like, creepy love. You know, brotherly-sisterly love. If you look at me like you look at Max then I'm outta here and this creeper-fest."

My mouth opened to snap back with a witty remark, but nothing came. Max was equally as speechless – probably because Nudge was right.

Max and I were madly in love with each other. I knew it. She knew it. The whole world knew it.

And we were both too shy to do anything about it.

Luckily, Total saved us from talking. "Can you elaborate for those of us who can't read minds?" He was stuffed in an oversized purse, since there was a poster banning dogs from the building. He looked to Angel and Iggy, who were leaning against our table. We looked like a gang of thugs. Just well-dressed thugs with sick sunglasses. "Do you guys know?"

Angel obviously did, but Iggy shook his head. "I think she was looking at a newspaper or something when she dropped it and sprinted off. I have absolutely no idea what it was though." He tapped his head. "You know, blind kid speaking and all." Still, that blind kid could make a crème brûlée that would make you want to sell your soul for another one.

Nudge sat down at a chair at the table next to us. She put her hands on her knees and leaned over for extra effect. Her voice was deadly low, as if we were talking about the codes needed to launch a nuclear war and destroy mankind. "One night only. Today. Eight o'clock. Lansing. Justin Bieber concert."

I was right. It was going to destroy mankind.

In perfect timing, me, Iggy, and Gazzy groaned, while Max and Angel smiled.

"I would rather be eaten by sharks," Gazzy said, while Iggy commented, "Can't we do something fun, like, bash our heads into walls?"

At least I figured out we were in Michigan, if the concert was in Lansing. Even though I was geographically challenged (a better way of saying I scored a negative twenty percent on that geography quiz when we'd been in school in Virginia) I still knew about Lansing. That place has some killer sandwiches. Literally - I once saw Max take out a guy with a ham and cheese combo she'd ordered from Subway.

I'll admit I was relieved I didn't have to ask where we were, since Max would never have let me live it down. It's always a good idea to know what state you're in, I do believe. ("I do believe" in a British accent is my favourite sentence in the history of ever.)

"Isn't that expensive?" Max asked. From her raised eyebrows and smirk, she was obviously amused – but I couldn't tell if she actually wanted to go or not. If she did, then we needed to have a very serious conversation.

"No! It's a charity concert to benefit the victims of the Pakistan flooding, so all you have to do is pay as much as you can. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" Now she sounded like a cheesy car dealer. You know, the kind who sells you a car that's going to drive you over the edge of a cliff.

Personally, I'd much prefer Bernie Mac as a salesman. Then I could drive a Transformer. Frick, that would be so cool.

"Why don't we vote on it?" There goes Max and her Maxocracy. She folded her hands on the table, and I was so tempted to reach over and pick one up… (SHUT UP FANG, JUST SHUT UP.) "Whoever wants to go, put your hand up."

Nudge.

Angel.

Total.

Wait, wha-

"Total?" Gazzy asked, disgusted, as he saw Total's black paw thrust into the air. "I mean, really?"

Total did this weird rolling thing with his shoulders, which I guess was the dog form of a shrug. "His music is sort of like champagne. Horrible, addicting, and better when you're drunk."

Righty-o. Max's voice was even as she spoke. "Sorry, Nudge, you're outvoted."

"But, Max!" There were tears in her eyes. Aw, crap. "Max, this is the one chance that we have to be normal. To be like everyone else! Can't we just forget about our crappy lives for three hours? That's all I want!" Now the tears were falling. Crap, crap, crapiddy-crap. I can disable an Eraser with a pencil with fourteen different moves, but tears were just... no.

She continued on, oblivious to the way her words were twisting us all. "There's nothing wrong with wanting fun for one night. Please, Max, please. As a favour."

Frick.

Max looked at me.

I looked at Nudge.

Nudge looked at the floor.

Frick, indeed.

With an apologetic glance at the guys, I nodded. Max sighed. I knew she didn't like going back on her original decision. "Fine, Nudge, we'll go, as long as you agree that you won't run off alone and that you owe us your eternal gratitude."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Nudge sounded as if she'd been proposed to. Perhaps she thought this was better. With a huge grin plastered across her face, she leaned over the table and gave Max and me a huge hug. I may or may not have enjoyed how I was pressed tightly against Max. "You guys are the best."

Of course, I wasn't really listening. All I noticed was that Max's shirt matched her eyes.

Why yes, I am that pathetic, thank you very much.

Let me spare you the boring details of our flight to Lansing; sure, having wings is awesome, but there weren't any flying lions or floating pieces of Bacon to make the flight exciting. It was just cold and windy and uncool. Gazzy was quite vocal about all of those things.

Of course, it was nearly impossible to have a conversation while flying, but Max and I have mastered the conversation-with-eyes thing that looks like we're either having a staring contest or both of us are constipated. With a tilt of the head and certain physical cues, it was actually rather simple.

Isn't this a security nightmare? I asked. We were flying beside each other, with our wings in sync. Aww.

The sun was starting to set, so it was becoming difficult to see her eyes, but I could make out clearly enough, This is for Nudge. And how bad could eleven-year-old girls be? Our eyes flickered to Nudge, who, at eleven, could easily kill us while we slept. Well, most eleven-year-olds, she added. But we'll be on guard - all of us.

Let me tell you something.

I wasn't exactly looking forward to the concert-

But concerts provide an excellent excuse to be inappropriately close to a certain someone. (If you say Iggy, you die.)

We managed to touch down in a city park a few blocks away. Nudge, naturally, had ripped the article out of the stolen newspaper and guided us along the streets with bouncing steps. I noticed, when we hit a main street, that Iggy, Gazzy and I were the only guys on the overflowing sidewalk.

That could be both a good and a bad thing. ("How many of them are wearing short skirts?" Iggy asked, but Angel punched him as an answer.)

The concert/charity event/excuse for a million girls to congregate was taking place in an open-air amphitheatre. I have never seen that many girls in my entire life in one spot. I could feel the pulsing estrogen in the air, along with the melange of thick, cheap perfume that almost made me puke my guts out. That would've looked so hot, I know.

You know, if a guy wanted a girlfriend, all he'd have to do is go to one of these concerts with a guitar and a dodgy haircut and wait.

"Excited?" Max asked from beside me. Somehow she'd managed to either buy or steal cotton candy already, even though we'd just arrived in the building. Skill.

"Like you wouldn't believe," I said sarcastically, causing her to grin and pop a piece into her mouth.

She gestured to the blue-and-pinkness. "Want some?" I dug my hand in, grabbed a piece, and shared a moment so perfect that maybe, just maybe, Justin Bieber isn't so bad.

"I never thought Hell would sell popcorn," Iggy muttered as we tried to find our way around. We'd already dropped off our donations. He was eyeing the concession stands (Popcorn! T-shirts! Useless junk!) lined against the curved wall. Still, even Iggy had to smile at the joy in Nudge's voice as she nearly had an aneurism as we got closer to the gateways that lead out to the giant field.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh," she chanted, which matched the voices of thousands of others. It was loud, of course, but it made me feel better to see a few girls dragging along what looked to be like soon-to-be-ex-boyfriends.

Total, stuffed in Angel's backpack (she'd used rather... unmoral techniques to get him past security) was squirming, making it look like her backpack was alive. A few of the girls gave the backpack questionable looks, but no one stopped us.

And then the announcement came on the PA system, saying the event would start in ten minutes.

Joy, joy, joy.

We were all shoved, pushed, and corralled into the main floor. I can't tell you how many times I was an inch away from smacking someone in the face.

I was doing this for Nudge, but more directly, for Max. For love.

...Now that was cheesy.

Somehow we ended up by the speakers, of course. It was gigantic, throbbing mess, and a nightmare for Erasers or Flyboys. At least we had the open roof. A downside of that was how you'd be surprised by how cold it gets in Michigan in early September, even with thousands of screaming girls pressing you against the railing close to the stage. (Nudge had almost melted.) Basically, it was worse than those crazy medieval torture devices-

But of course, there was nothing that could have prepared me for what happened next.

I can't believe I have cliffhangers in my own mind.