Summary: Not all childhoods are perfect. In fact, if you think yours was, there's probably a big lie hidden somewhere in there. Max Martinez is seventeen and loving life. Sure school isn't the most exciting thing-not much in her life is-but she has a loving family and great friends. But when Nick, the annoying new kid, starts prying into Max's life things go downhill as everything she has ever been confident in is revealed as a lie. The people who she's been calling Mom and Dad he whole life aren't really her parents. What does that make her? Who does that make her? Max decides to find out for herself.

-Prologue

She ran through the forest, ignoring the sharp pain that pricked her feet with ever bare footed step and every sting of the bramble and thorns that her torn skin encountered. Her breathing was labored, every breath sent fire searing through her lungs yet she spurred herself forward, trying desperately to evade her pursuers.

She felt the panic inside of her surge as she heard the ever present sounds of pursuit growing closer. Her already queasy stomach tightened in knots at the mere thought of her trackers reaching her.

She clutched the squirming bundle in her arms closer to her chest. She knew it would be easier to leave the bundle, the use of her arms would improve her impaired balance monumentally, but she couldn't. Not after all she'd gone through to get it this far.

She saw the faint haze of lights in the distance and they ignited a spark of hope in her heart. She had no idea where she was exactly, somewhere in Montana. Not far enough away from them but it would have to do. The vegetation started to taper from the thick trunked deciduous trees to shrubs and young saplings. The sound of snapping saplings rang loudly in her ears, only trifled by the ragged sound of her own breathing.

With a final scraping of her shins she broke through the confines of the forest. Her feet encountered a cold albeit slippery surface and her first thought was relief that she was no longer subjected to the harsh terrain of the forest. However, the relief was short lived as she slipped on what she now recognized as dew laden grass. Her despair crept like dark tendrils through her veins as she was forced to stop to regain her balance.

The sound of baying hounds suddenly ripped through the night air, uncomfortably close behind her. She knew that they weren't ordinary dogs. They were Erasers; half human half lupine hybrids, chasing her from her personal hell all of these hundreds of miles away. The epitome of what she was trying to escape. What they were trying to escape. The child in her arms squalled as she grew impatient. She'd be hungry, it had been a few hours since the newborn girl had been fed but she could do nothing about that right now.

The paw falls grew closer, the shouting louder. Her head whipped from side to side in jerked motions, much like what she assumed she would look like if she was being controlled by a marionette. The haze of light she had registered earlier was now a brightly lit halo surrounding a large home, a mansion really, on the top of the hillcrest. Without hesitation she headed towards the warmly lit home, her tired legs crying in protest as she braved the steep hill. Every two steps forward rewarded her with a small slid backwards on the grasses moist surface. Agitation leaked into her as she bit her bottom lip and pressed forward. At last she came to the wooden veranda of the house. She wanted nothing more than to sink onto its surface, or perhaps one of the many lounge chairs that adorned it, but the cry of the baby in her arms as well as the yelping of the Erasers were a constant reminder that she was not out of danger yet. Far from it in fact.

If the Erasers caught her…well she'd simply die. But if the Erasers caught the child! Oh they'd bring her back. Back to her parents and that evil place. She couldn't allow that. She couldn't allow an innocent child to be exposed to that when she had no chance to object.

The woman carefully set the bundled child onto the welcome mat at the base of the double glass plated doors. She knocked three sharp raps before darting around the corner of the house, cloaking herself in the shadows.

She listened tersely as locks grated against one another and the door opened.

"Oh my god!" a woman's voice exclaimed as she took in the sight of the crying infant. "Oh sweet baby girl who left you here?" The voice asked. The exhausted woman chanced a look around the corner and saw a silhouette, backed up against the warm yellow light of the home, reach down and pick the child up. The sound of soft words of comfort drifted to her and as she watched the shadow turned and search the vicinity for any signs of the baby's guardian. Finding none she sighed and whispered to the child.

"Let's get you inside."

And with that the child was gone, the light from the home's interior cut off by the doors closing.

The woman had no time for tears, only relief, as her begrudging legs once again carried her across the lawn, hoping to draw her pursuers away from the child.

It worked.

She heard the footsteps follow her as she slipped and slid down the incline and into a neighboring backyard.

Then another.

And another.

She ran through backyards, the Erasers gaining on her. They were so close she could practically smell their rancid breath, feel them breathing down her neck.

She burst out of a backyard and onto the shoulder of a sparsely lit two lane street.

Headlights were barreling down the road at an alarming rate.

The hunting party was so close and she knew without looking that satanic smiles stretched across their elongated snouts as they realized that they had her cornered.

Indecision flashed through her mind for a mere second before she pitched herself out onto the road.

There was no doubt in her mind that she preferred it this way. She'd rather die from a car accident than an Eraser attack. Or worse yet, be brought back to that place, so they could deal with her.

Cries of frustration and anger rang behind her and a smile twisted her lips knowing that she had the final say in her story.

Just before the car hit her she thought: At least the baby would be okay. At least Maximum Ride would survive.

…..

Chapter 1:

Seventeen Years Later

All our lives we, as children, have been taught to admire the person who has raised us. A baby's first word is always "Mama," or "Dada," hell there's even a holiday to celebrate and commemorate those two special people in our lives.

So what happens when those two people you know as Mom and Dad have lied to you your whole life? What happens when, suddenly, those two people are strangers?

Because you've found out the truth.

That they aren't your parents.

What happens then?

Well, that's just the problem. I didn't know.

….

"Aaaannnnnddddd…..TIME!" the coach called as I rounded my final lap on the track. My feet pounded the shock absorbent pavement as I slowed down to a walk. "Five minutes twenty three seconds Martinez, good job! Hit the showers!"

I have a feeling he's waited his whole life to say that line. None the less I turned and headed off through the dry Montana heat and into the locker rooms that smelt like a combination of socks and perfume.

Coach was pretty cool once you got past his cheesy comments which I couldn't really nitpick on because I liked to use clichés of my own. He was one of the few adults that treated me like a human being around here, and not just a way to suck up to my parents.

Juan and Valencia Martinez were huge benefactors to the Lerner School for Gifted Children, which was just a fancy name for a stuck up private school decked out with uniforms and everything. The faculty members were always sucking up to me, hoping to get more money from my parents. I think their minds worked a little like this: make Max Martinez like science and bam! The science department gets more money.

Not happening. Science, quite frankly, gives me the heebie jeebies. And math and spelling? Pfff, forget it. Really, I'm an average student except for gym. Athletics are where I excel. Sitting in class all day listening to teachers ramble on about what someone else did makes me itch, I'd much rather be out there experiencing things first hand. Including breaking the record for fastest mile in the school's history. I did that freshman year. Now I'm a senior and star track athlete in the county, hell the state probably.

As I hurried into the locker room I estimated that I had about five minutes to myself before the other girls finished the mile. I took advantage of it, quickly showering and getting dressed by the time the rest of the school pricks joined me.

I absolutely loathed my school uniform; it made me look like Barbie playing dress up in my knee high navy socks, red plaid skirt and navy blazer. The only testimony to my individuality were my white three quarter sleeved shirt that I'd used in substitute for the classic gender neutral button downs, and my braded bracelet.

I left the locker room and headed towards coaches office. I had to turn in my permission slip for the track meet next week. We were driving to Missoula to take part in a track and field competition. Missoula was an hour away from where I lived in Philipsburg and the school was supplying a bus for me and my teammates. I was up for anything that got me out of school.

I knocked on the door that read 'Coach Paul Whitfield' before I let myself in.

"Hey Martinez, how's it going?" He asked as he leaned back precariously in his chair. Paul Whitfield was about six-two, fit, tan, and a true cowboy. Whenever he wasn't constrained by the school's employee uniform he wore button down shirts, washed out jeans, and cowboy boots. Hell, I'd once caught him with a cowboy hat too.

"The usual." I replied. "Just me in my plight for world domination and all that goes along with it."

"Well I think the only thing we'd have trouble with in Dictator Max's world would be finding enough cookies to placate your demand." He chuckled.

I gave him an offended look before morphing it into a hopeful one. "I don't suppose your wife baked me any, did she?" Amy Whitfield was twenty nine years old, like her husband, and was an amazing baker. Her chocolate chip cookies were to die for!

He shook his head. "I told her not to until we win the competition next week. Just think of it as an incentive." He winked.

"Evil bastard." I stuck my tongue at him and he chuckled.

"What brings you to my humble abode today, Maxie?" he taunted, leaning further back.

"The only thing humble about your abode is the smell, Pauly." I said with mirth.

"That my dear is the smell of success."

"And some god awful BO." I rolled my eyes. I loved my witty banter with Coach, he was one of the only people, aside from Nudge and Iggy, who understood that I meant nothing offensive; I was just having a good time.

"If you hate it so much then why did you come?" He asked, becoming serious as the bell rang in the background, signaling the end of the day. Teachers were just as eager to leave this hell hole as the students.

I pulled my permission slip from my messenger bag and slid it across the desk to him. His chair landed on all fours with a thump as he read it over.

"Cutting it kind of close here, Max. Another day and I'd have been forced to leave you." Coach attempts for a serious voice but fails as relief trickles through.

"You know me, I live on the edge." I smirked. That and I'd totally forgotten about the permission form until this morning when I'd had Mom sign it as she walked out the door. "Well, if we're done here I'm busting out of this prison. Hasta luego Pablo."

"See ya kid!"

I sighed and hitched my messenger bag over my shoulder before making my way off of the school's campus. The Lerner School for Gifted Children was situated on ten acres of prime grassy land. I kid you not the school looked like a castle and it even had a prestigious gate at the front to 'keep out the rift raft'. I headed down the grassy lawn and to the side road that led towards my development. It took only ten minutes to walk from the school to my house but in the April heat it felt like miles.

As I walked I couldn't help but grimace at the sight around me. What started out as modest homes transformed into huge multimillion dollar mansions in the blink of an eye.

Honestly, I'd rather be living in the modest family homes, you and your family are closer together and get a sense of love and family. In my home we had four people living in a three story home. Hardly the close family I craved, but my parents and sister, Ella, were loving.

I continued walking up to the apogee of the hill where my house resided. It had a demanding presence from a distance that grew with its size as you approached. Constructed entirely of brick the exterior spread over the hilltop and crested in several peaks on the roof. The house faced east and its multiple windows allowed for maximum natural light in the mornings

A U shaped driveway lead up to the house and the two BMW's sitting in the driveway signaled my parents' presence. My own car, a 2005 Jeep Liberty, sat concealed in the garage. It made no sense to drive to school when it was just as easy to walk.

I cut across the perfectly manicured lawn and towards the front of the house.

"¡Mamá! ¡Papá!" I called as I slipped inside the double mahogany glass plated doors. "I'm home!"

"How was school?" Mom called back from the kitchen. "Did your coach let you turn in your permission slip?" I headed down the hall my shoes sliding on the freshly waxed hardwood floors as I made my way to the living room. The walls were a dark yellow that was offset nicely by the dark woods that flowed throughout the home and the furniture was black and artfully arranged around the room. Pieces of modern art adorned the walls as well as family photos. I tossed my messenger bag onto the floor and flopped onto the couch.

"Yeah," I called back, kicking off my shoes and making myself comfortable, feet propped up on the glass and ironwork coffee table in front of me. I picked up the remote and turned CNN on the plasma television that was in its own entertainment center across from me.

My twelve year old sister Ella suddenly shot past me, sliding over the waxed floors in her socks. She waved as she passed, her curly black hair flowing behind her like ribbon in the wind. We looked nothing alike. She was short, brown, and dark haired like my parents, and I was tall, blond, and my skin was only slightly bronzed by the sun. In fact, the only attribute I shared with my family were my eyes. Everyone said that I had my mother's eyes, a pretty milk chocolate color. To be honest, I thought hers were prettier.

As I watched Ella continued to slide at an impressive speed over the floors. That is, until her foot caught the corner of moms prized Persian carpet and she was sent stumbling into the kitchen, arms pin wheeling as she tried to regain her balance. There was an echoing crash followed by Ella's cry of surprise and pain and my mother's cry of dismay.

I was off the couch before the clanking finished. I whipped around the corner that separated the kitchen and the living room and froze.

Then I busted up laughing at the sight before me.

The kitchen itself was a cranberry color with dark cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. The counters were bare aside from the stove where pots and pans and cooking ingredients were laid out.

Ella sat, legs sprawled, on the kitchen floor covered from head to toe in what looked like broccoli casserole while mom scrambled to clean it up.

"Ella!" she cried out as she worked "What were you thinking?" Ella, on the other hand, was too busy glaring at me to pay attention.

"It's not funny, Max." she groaned, trying to stand up but falling back flat on her butt from a mixture of slippery floors and slimy casserole.

"You wouldn't be saying that if it were me." I chortled as I offered her a hand up.

Just then dad came around the corner and froze, surveying the damage. He'd probably been in his office and hadn't heard the crash, or so said his look of surprise.

"Girls," he said slowly.

"Yeah, Dad?" We said in unison.

"What's going on?"

"Just…trying out a new look." Ella said, running her hands through her hair, effectively worsening the already tangled mess.

Dad nodded then spun on his heel and headed back to his office, muttering something about crazy pre-teen years that left us all laughing.

"Ella, go get cleaned up." Mom ordered as she straightened up. "Max, go order some pizzas."

I silently cheered. I hated broccoli casserole.

And I'm back! I have missed writing so much these past few months. And I apologize for the delay in posting this story, a combination of writers block and too much schoolwork has had me on edge lately.

Something you guys should know about this story:

It has been stuck in my head for over a year now and I've just finally gotten around to writing it. Its different from my other two stories because, as you can tell, I've decided to include some of the original Max Ride plot: ie: Erasers, mutants, evil scientists, the works. I'm not quite sure how it will turn out but I couldn't resist the urge to write it. Please let me know what you think so far! I'm aware that after the Prologue this first chapter was boring but I'm working my way up to the action. I need you to be patient because nothing will be jumped right into (yes I am not so subtly hinting at FAX).

Read and Review!

Peace!