Ugly by flYegurl

The CSM. Coalition to Stop the Madness. That was my mom's stupid new group.

It's not like I thought they weren't doing good out there or anything. And it's not like I was against their motives. It's just that, any group that puts me and my flock on television is a bad group, period.

We weren't supposed to be advertised! We were supposed to be staying incognito! So tell me why the heck we were about to go to some stupid news program that would be interviewing us? 'Oprah' or something.

I straightened the outfit I was wearing. I, Maximum Ride, was wearing a dress, if you can believe it. Yeah. A freaking dress. It went down a few inches below my knees, and was emeraldy-green (luckily not pink or purple, I would have refused if that was the case). I tugged at the hem, trying to get it to go lower. I stared at myself in the mirror.

For someone who generally refuses to wear anything but ratty T-shirts and jeans, I was liking this dress remarkably more than I should have. I mean, I was a tough girl, right? A 'tom-boy'? You know? But wearing a dress made me feel… somehow… pretty.

Bleh. I was thinking like one of those girly-girls on Disney. I wasn't about to turn into one.

Then, suddenly, the rest of the flock appeared in the living room. Nudge was wearing a sky-blue dress that was silky with a low-cut neck and a hem that ended just above her knees. And I thought my dress was short. Hers had spaghetti straps, too, whilst mine actually had three-quarter sleeves.

Angel was clothed in a dress that was a lighter blue, sort of faded color. It was decked with white lace and ruffles, and she had a blue ribbon tied into her hair.

Gazzy had on a pair of baggy cargo-shorts and a green T-shirt with a white stripe across the middle.

Fang was wearing his normal black ensemble; tight black shirt with sleeves that went down to his elbow, and baggy black jeans.

Iggy was wearing a pale, pale blue long-sleeved shirt that perfectly matched his eyes and dark, distressed skinny-jeans, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Now, these outfits suit us all perfectly, even my dress (I did not just say that), they had been specially picked out for us. Apparently, this whole being on 'Oprah' was really, really big. Also apparently, the CSM had pulled a lot of strings to get us on. And how could I refuse, with Nudge chatting my ears off at all hours and Ella and mom looking up to me? They had bought the tickets way, way in advance.

Now, all we had to do was get to this stupid place.

"Wow, you guys!" I exclaimed. "Nudge, Angel, you're both gorgeous!"

Nudge blushed and tugged at the hem of her dress, and Angel smiled sweetly, her golden curls bouncing.

"Seriously?" Nudge said, giggling like a school-girl – something I did not want her to sound like. "Because I wasn't sure at first, you know, because the color is really blue, and I was sort of wanting pink or maybe purple or yellow or something, but it's really comfortable, and it feels nice, you know? The fabric's really good and everything, and I like the way it feels when I twirl, and I looked in the mirror and I think it looks pretty good on me… seriously?"

"Thank you, Max," is what Angel's reply was, and that was that.

"What about me?" Gazzy spoke up, jumping up and down and grinning broadly. "Huh, Max? What about me? How do I look?"

"You looked awesome too, Gasser," I said, ruffling his spiky blond hair. "As always."

"And of course, I look stoic, dark, mysterious, and handsome, right Max?" came Fang's voice, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Of course, as always," I replied, trying to sound sarcastic, but somehow failing miserably.

Fang smirked annoyingly and flicked his long bangs out of his eye – they just fell right back.

Iggy ran his hand through his long, strawberry-blond hair, and Nudge spoke up. "Shouldn't we be going now? I mean, the limo should be here by now. Or is your mom gonna come up to get us when it's time? And what are we doing again? It's Oprah, right? Gosh, I'm so excited! Is she going to ask me a bunch of questions about myself? Like, what it feels like to fly? Or my favorite color? Or my favorite restaurant, or food, or something?"

"I don't know, Nudge," I answered, struggling to keep from telling her to be quiet. "And yes, my mom's going to be coming up to get us, so we don't have to worry or anything."

"Yeah, so we have time still!" Nudge started, and the rest of us all rolled our eyes, except for Iggy, who closed his and began to massage his temples. "Listen, we should totally figure out what to be on the show!"

"What do you mean?" Gazzy asked eagerly, looking towards her intently.

"Don't encourage her," both Fang and I said simultaneously.

"Well," Nudge continued, "We should all play a certain part! I mean, Angel is so cute and sweet and pretty, and Max is beautiful, and I'm gorgeous, and Gazzy is adorable, and apparently Fang is 'stoic, dark, mysterious and handsome'! So we should act like that!"

"Yeah right, Nudge," I said. "I'm not acting like a stuck-up model or a British princess or anything."

"Yeah," Fang said. "And it's not like I have to act any different to come across as stoic, dark, mysterious or handsome." I rolled my eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder. "And what about Iggy? What part would he play?"

"Hmm," Nudge said, pausing and thinking. "What can Iggy be…"

"Don't strain yourself, it doesn't matter," Iggy said, turning on his heels, his voice flat. "I'm not going."

And he stalked off back into his room, slamming and locking the door.

I stood for a moment, exchanging shocked glances with the rest of the flock. Gazzy looked shocked, Nudge hurt, and Fang had assumed a sort of what-the-heck expression.

I turned to look questioningly at Angel, and she shook her head.

"You should go talk to him, Max," she said, sounding ominous, as always. "I think you'd both benefit from the knowledge you would gain."

I cocked my head, glancing back at Fang, who shrugged.

"O-kay," I answered, and started walking towards Iggy's room. "He just better not take too long… mom will probably be here soon…"

When I got to the door of Iggy's bedroom, I paused for a minute, staring at the wood grain. What the heck was that whole scene about? It's not like any of us said anything to set him off. I admit that in the past, we've all made comments unthinkingly that had been hurtful or insulting without meaning to be, but looking back, no one had said anything like that.

I reached up with my fist and began to bang on the door.

"Open up, Ig!" I called. "What's the deal? Why aren't you coming?"

I paused in my banging for a second to hear if he responded, but there was silence from in his room. Therefore, I resumed my knocking.

"Seriously, Iggy! What the heck is your problem?"

"Go away," Iggy replied.

Encouraged by his actually talking, I continued to knock ferociously.

"I'm not leaving until you open up this door and tell me what your freaking problem is," I said. "None of us said anything. So why would you actually refuse to go on a famous television show? I mean, you'll be seen nationwide."

"That's sort of the point," came Iggy's muffled response. I stopped my pounding at his door. He sounded kind of dejected.

I sighed and leaned up against his door.

"Gosh, Iggy, just tell me what's up," I said. "I'm sure we can work this out before mom gets up here. Why don't you want to be seen on television?"

"Because," Iggy said, and at that moment he unlocked and yanked open his door, causing me to stumble forward and catch myself on the doorway. "Because I'm…"

I looked up at Iggy to see that his hair was tousled and a bit messed up – he had obviously been laying in his bed. He seemed confused and a little hurt, and I was sort of shocked, seeing as I couldn't recall anything that could make him feel like that in the last thirty minutes.

"What, Iggy?" I asked, trying to sound comforting. "What are you?"

"Ugly," Iggy answered, and his cheeks blushed red. He reached up to cover his face with his long, pale hands. "I'm ugly, but you're all not, so I'll look horrible."

My mouth dropped open, and I gaped at the furiously blushing Iggy in confusion for a few long moments.

Iggy… ugly? Which dimension did he think we were in?

I looked him up and down, and really, the 'girl' in me was thinking "what the heck would make this god of hotness think he was ugly?" I mean, my flock was pretty much the epitome of amazing beautifulness. Fang, Iggy and I could be models if we wanted, and, really, so could Nudge, Angel and Gazzy.

"Iggy, why would you think you were ugly? No person in their right mind could look at you and say that," I told him, and Iggy scowled.

"Well, I've never exactly seen my face, have I?" was his reply, and I had no response.

Iggy had never seen his own face?

"Plus," Iggy continued, "No one has ever told me I look good before. How was I to know?"

"Seriously?" I asked. "No one? Not even me?"

"You're the one who's always calling me stupid, and idiotic, and a pig," Iggy said softly. "It doesn't exactly make me feel like the most handsome boy in the world."

I bit my lip. If I had never told Iggy a single thing about how he looked good, especially since he was really the only one who actually needed to be told, then I hadn't been a good friend.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm really sorry, Iggy. Listen, I'll tell you what you look like." I took a deep breath. "You're over six-feet tall, which is pretty darn attractive to most people. You have abs that aren't too obvious, which is good, because when they really stand out, it's gross. And you have lots of arm muscles, which is hot. And your eyes have this sort of piercing look, but also distant, which is kind of… I dunno… exotic, or something. And you've got long, thick eyelashes. Your hair is a totally gorgeous color, and it's thick and shiny and not too long, but not too short either, and it's styled just right. And you… your nose is good. And you have this, uh, really attractive crooked-smile sort of thing going."

Now I was blushing, because it's not like I've ever told a guy all the reasons he looks hot before. Not Fang, not anyone. It was rather embarrassing, especially to Iggy, since he's always teasing me for 'liking Fang'… bah. As if.

I looked up and saw that Iggy was smiling too, and his eyes were twinkling.

"Seriously?" he said. "Seriously? I'm not… ugly? I look good?"

I sighed. "You don't just look good, Ig. You're hot. But don't take any extra meaning from that," I added as an afterthought.

Iggy smiled broadly and reached up to run his fingers across his facial features.

"Wow," he muttered. "I'm hot. You have no idea how long I've thought…" He broke off and just smiled some more.

Iggy's smile was contagious, as always, and I found the corners of my mouth itching to smile as well.

"Now come on, Iggs," I said softly. "We're going to be on television, and you're going to have teens all over the country drooling when you come onscreen."

I reached out to take his hand and tugged him back out of his room. We were making our way down the hall when Nudge called to us.

"Max!" she said. "Your mom's here! So's the limo! It's waiting for us! We should go now, we don't want to be late, or they might kick us off. I don't want to be kicked off the show, I've been looking forward to this for so long! Did you get Iggy out of his room?"

"Yeah," I answered. "Yeah, he's here. Let's go."