What God Has in Store by SilverScreech

What God Has in Store

By Silverscreech

Warning: This fic is rated PG-13.

Disclaimer: I own Maximum Ride and all related characters/settings/events. I'm also the Queen of Mexico and keep my own personal man-harem of which Fang, Edward Cullen, and Brad Pitt are all members. (If you didn't get the MAJOR sarcasm alert here, I would be very careful. You are more than likely hopped up on valium).

Description: "The fifth command is as follows; honor they father and thy mother." It's something that you never forget, the loss of a parent. The guilt, not matter how undeserved, that follows it is unavoidable. An Ella centered aghast fic. Sequel to "The Freshman". Kingda Ka

What God Has in Store

The rays of light shone down on the delicate garden, dancing in and out between the blossoms made all the more beautiful by the rarity of such a site, coming straight out of winter into these early spring mornings. Ella watched from her bedroom window as the petals swayed in the remnants of the winter winds. She moved about her room, preparing for the day. It was a rather large room really, as if it was meant to be shared. When she was little, Ella used to pretend that this room was meant for two, that she had a sister somewhere just waiting to come and join her here in this room. But this was just a silly childhood fantasy and not at all relevant to daily life. The windows are wide and let in lots of light and her name is painted in sparkling capital letters across the door. Still Ella finds there's a sense of sadness in this room. As if it once held a great treasure that she lost.

The room really should be perfect. It held all of Ella's favorite things. The soft purples and whites she loved, a min fridge, and even a descent computer that her friend Bobby had tricked out for her (though exactly what it was supposed to do, Ella could only guess.)

Ella sighed heavily as her gaze trails around the room. It's not the same one she had last year, the year dad died. They had moved not long after that. It had just been too… hard. Neither of them wanted to remember anymore. SO they came here, a house that had apparently belonged to a man called Jet… Jab… something like that. An old friend of her mom's. He sold it to them real cheap, but it was in excellent condition. Almost as if it had been designed for them.

Ella glared at the window sill where more light was dancing across the purple and white striped curtains. She stared them down, as if they held answers, could tell her why everything had happened to her, why her mother had to hurt like this, why they all had to hurt like this.

Tell her why her father had died.

Finally Ella drops her gaze, she looks fleetingly around the room for a distraction, any distraction, finally coming to rest on her desk and the computer screen glowing dimly. The desk itself is a pit, piled with plies upon piles of old textbooks and missed homework assignments. A handful of photos are pinned to the top; one of her parents, another of Bobby making stupid faces into the camera, another of her friends from her old school (of which only Bobby still bothered to force his parents to trek halfway across town to visit here), and the last one was of a girl with bright blue eye and flaming red hair.

It was this last one that caught Ella's attention. Molly, a young girl who'd moved here from Ireland when she was four, was now one of Ella's best friends. But the friendship came with a lot of baggage. They had met in the hospital a few years after her dad had been diagnosed. Molly went to a different school and a different church and was generally different from Ella in every way. Molly liked classical, Ella liked punk. Molly liked JCPennny's, Ella liked Limited Two. Molly liked green, Ella liked purple. Molly's father was an English teacher, Ella hated English. But none of that really mattered to either of them, because Molly's mom had been diagnosed with cancer. Molly's mom and Ella's dad had lived in rooms next to each other. That was how Ella and Molly met. They had formed a very close bound. One that had been tested after Ella's dad died, because Molly's mom continued to live.

Ella wrenched herself out of her thoughts and sat down at the computer. A couple rounds of solitaire and a yahoo new scan informed her that very little would be amusing her today (except for a rather interesting report about a number of unexplained explosions in a remote part of the Colorado Rockies.)

Ella opened her Facebook and scanned her "chat-available" friends. Neither Bobby or Molly was on. Ella was just about to log out and ask her mother to drive her to school early today when the sharp ringing of her cell phone startled her.

"Hello?"

"Ella." The voice on the other end says wearily, as if mentally absent from the conversation.

"Molly?" Ella asks, suddenly worried.

"Yeah." Molly says softly in that same absent tone.

"What is it?" Ella asks, standing up and looking around for her purse. If Molly needed her, Ella's mom would give her a ride. "Is everything okay?" Beat. "Is your mom okay?"

"My grandma's flying up from Texas. We're on our way back home." Ella forces herself not to gasp. She know Molly's got enough pain of her own to deal with right now. It had happened, they were finally equal. Ella wished they'd stayed unbalanced.

"Me and mom will meet you guys there." Ella promised, finally fishing her purse and jacket from underneath her bed. She could take a day or two off from school. Her mom would understand. Molly needed her. The same way she had needed Molly at her own father's funeral. It was the very least she could do.

"Thanks Elly." Molly whispers before hanging up.

Ella streaks out of her room, sliding down the rail because taking the stairs took to much time. She rushes into her mom's room and in a rush explained what had happened. Dr. M breaks several traffic laws as they make it to Molly's in record time. ON the way, Ella relives that horrible day, the one where these situations had been reversed.

ONE YEAR PERVIOUSLY

Ella sat in a small, hard back chair, her arms crossed stubbornly over her chest in a desperate measure to appear indifferent. Her hair, that usually held itself up a in a neat and tidy ponytail, brushed out in all directions. Her black dress felt increasingly uncomfortable and Ella knew it did nothing for her anyways as her grandmother had bought it and it was sorely out of style. Her face and eyes were blank and dimmed, as if she was acquiring a nasty cold.

But Ella wasn't getting sick, she was already beyond help. Ella hated herself. Because she hadn't been there when her father had passed on. She'd at school, on the playground. Because her father hadn't thought she should have to worry. In some ways, Ella hated her father even more, for thinking she shouldn't have been there in his final moments.

Ella began to count the breaths she took, willing herself not to cry. But even a three year old could have seen she was fighting a losing battle. Her eyes were red and puffy and her nose was beginning to drip. She was in for one ugly cry feast and everyone knew it.

That was probably why Molly found it necessary to grab her hand and yank her from the room, running with her, not knowing where they were going. Only know that she had to get away and Molly was providing an escape.

Finally they reached a small abandoned chapel room and Molly turned around and hugged Ella tight. Ella started to cry.

Molly squeezed her as hard as she could. Molly didn't say anything, Molly just held Ella while she cried. And Molly cried with her.

FOUR DAYS AFTER THE PHONE CALL

Funerals never change, not over time or by experience. They're always sad, comes with the territory. Ella is sitting with the rest of the general section when Molly's father gets up to speak. Molly looks back at Ella then, like she going to break down. Silently, Ella gets and goes over to her friend. Molly scoots over to make room for two on the chair and Ella puts her arm around her.

Molly starts to sob quietly, shifting so Ella can get both arms around her and hold her tight as Molly's father whispers his final goodbyes into his wife's' open casket.

"Death that haft sucked thy honey from thy breath has no power yet upon thy beauty…"