Max- Recovery After Gunshot

  My mom is a veterinarian, an animal doctor, so let’s all put our hands together for the irony there. She patched my wing while she and Jeb tried unsuccessfully to find out what had happened. I wanted to mull things over for a while, maybe do some research on the Chu-ster, so I just mumbled something about getting hit by a stray bullet in a freak accident.

  “You shouldn’t fly for at least a week,” my mom said firmly.

  I instantly interpreted that to mean three days.

  “And I really mean a week,” she went on, looking stern. “Not three days.”

  She was getting to know me.
...

  And that was how I spent my three days of forced rest. The flock saw all the Mayan wonders of the Yucatan, and I learned how to cook something besides cold cereal.

  So there was much amazement all around.

  But my wing healed, and soon it was time to leave. I was thinking of maybe going to South America.

- MAX: A Maximum Ride Novel, chapter 15