FANG: A Maximum Ride Novel

I have grown up with Max, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Gazzy and Angel. Or to say I have grown up and they have have been fossilized in time. For me though, Nudge will always be the same age as I, and Fang, Max and Iggy will always be my elders, even though I am on my way to passing them in age (especially after this last book). They still stand strong through the glory and pits of my middle school life, the one thing I remember solidly from 6th grade.
Some kid is biking down my driveway. I really want to show him a piece of my mind, but I don't want to make something of nothing...
Since when have people, besides BP, of coarse, comment on the max ride books I read? Paula pointed at my FANG book today and gasped "You have it! I want to read that book." I just nodded. Is it selfish that I want to keep the flock to myself? Even as these books get worse and worse, I don't want others to find joy in them like I did, because... there mine. You know?
So many 6th grade science classes staring out the window, imagining max flying by. She would tap at the window, and no one would hear but me. She'd grin, dive under the tinted glass and throw a rock, and in the ruckusa nd shrieks as it shatters, I'd jump out too. Max would catch me. And I wouldn't come back to the magical world of periodic tables ever again. The only thing I got from that unit was that sulfur was 6. And sulfur was the stuff Gazzy and Iggy used to blow stuff up.