Wednesday, October 3, 2001
Arcadia Bay Consolidated Elementary
Max
The day had a chill to it, just enough to punish a child for misplacing their outerwear. A little girl, Max, zipped up her grey jacket in response to a gust of wind. With her sneakers, she kicked at a small collection of leaves. Jeans protected her legs.
Small woodland creatures gathered food for the coming winter freeze. At recess, children played tag and swung joyfully. The leaves had changed color and were in the process of falling. And it was only this last fact that currently interested the young girl, fiddling with her disposable camera.
Max's parents had allowed her this only after much pleading and promises. I'll be good! I'll never ask for anything again! I won't lose it, promise! Please please please…
Max had a suspicion she had been going to receive the camera anyway, but her father was rather a tease about these things. With all the hours her parents worked, perhaps they thought letting Max have the best toys they could afford made up for the lack of family time. In any case, she had yet to actually take a photo since last Saturday. All charges were left unused in the small yellow camera she held.
"Ok Max, you can do it!" She offered herself a small pep-talk. After all, she really hadn't made any friends who might offer her encouragement. Oh, sure, she spoke to the other kids, but stilted Kindergarten small-talk does not a friend make.
She peered through the small aperture at the top of the yellow brick in her hands. A rainbow of fallen leaves sat at the foot of the tree she stood before, and she centered the same in her view.
Click! Photo captured.
Bzt, bzt, bzt. She rotated the wheel on the camera, readying the next charge.
"I can't wait to see it!" She almost squealed with delight; barely contained joy vastly disproportionate to the small task completed. This faded quickly when she remembered what her father had explained last weekend.
You'll only get to see the pictures after you've taken them all and I get them developed for you, Maxine. But I'm sure they'll be great, sweetie.
She wished she had one of those antique instant cameras, so she could see her work immediately. She promised herself to get one when she was older.
She smiled and turned to hunt for her next subject.
Martin Prescott, a distant, estranged relative to the 'famed' Sean Prescott heading the Prescott Estate, apparently had other ideas. He swiped the camera from Max.
"Hey!" And that was the extent of Max's current assertiveness.
"That looks cool, Maxine, and you aren't, so it's mine now." He was a rather plump fellow, because even the fraction of Prescott Fortune he had access to was enough for excess. The extra weight and height scared Max.
"But, my dad, got that for me…" Max muttered, more to herself than to Martin. Tears threatened her eyes.
"Whatever, Maxi – ooof!" Martin's voice was cut off by a fist to the gut.
"Leave her alone, butthead!" This new girl was taller, and slim, but fierceness and anger rolled in her blue eyes. She ripped the yellow item back from Martin in his staggered state, then stared him down.
When Martin recovered, he glared back. "You don't know who you're messing with!" The Prescotts were like Rottweilers, except at least the dog could learn to love something other than itself.
Max was holding her breath, and this strawberry blonde (my savior!) didn't speak, but neither did she avert her gaze.
Martin, bored of the exchange, evidently, simply huffed once and left the girls. He wasn't so tough after all, I guess.
The blonde took a few deep breaths, and Max let out the breath she had held. From behind her, Max regarded the confident stance of her impromptu protector with a childish awe. She wore a dark red windbreaker to keep out the cold, with faded jeans below, a hole in the left knee.
She's so cool! The awestruck kindergartener found the courage to speak, "Th-Thank you!" The other girl turned to face Max and gave a toothy smile. Max thought she might go blind by the brilliance, but retained the presence of mind to ask for the camera. "Can -can I…?" She held out her hands.
"Can what?" Came the reply. She looked down, to where Max was reaching. "Oh, this thing, yeah, for sure, all yours." Again with the smile, and Max felt like she was on a cloud.
With camera back in hand, Max secured it again in her 'camera bag.' It was a disused, compact purse with shoulder strap her mother had let her have. Her treasure fit quite nicely inside. Zipper closed, she met the blue stare of her savior.
"Uh, what's your name?" Max managed under the weight of tropical ocean eyes.
"I'm Chloe! You wanna be a pirate with me?" Chloe bounced on her feet a little as she spoke. The energy emitted was infectious.
Max hesitated. Normally, she would decline outright. She was more comfortable with her camera, on the edge of the playground, watching the others rather than participating. Chloe seemed to sense this.
"I mean, you could use that camera whenever, you know? And I will be like, your bodyguard, or whatever. Yeah, yeah!" Max melted to the smiled once again, and sheepishly nodded her head. When Chloe offered her hand, Max took it immediately. It felt right. They walked off together.
"Oh, duh, hey!" They stopped abruptly. Max bumped into Chloe, and they both giggled at the sudden contact. "What's your name? Martin the Meanie" she spat the moniker out like she hated the taste, "called you, um, Maxi? Or Maxine?"
Max felt her cheeks flush a little at the attention. Are we… friends? Is this what it's like?
"…Max, never Maxine."
"Ok Max! Let's go claim a fort! I'll be Captain first, then you tomorrow, 'kay?"
Max nodded in agreement, then considered something. "Wait!" She retrieved the camera from its protective bag, and framed Chloe in the shot. Chloe, pleasantly surprised, gave a mischievous grin that highlighted her smooth features. She's so pretty!
Stowing the camera, their hands joined again, and they raced off to a wooden play-set to 'claim' it.
Max thought perhaps this was the beginning of a grand adventure, two pirates versus the world.
And, maybe, she wasn't far from the truth, after all.
Arcadia Bay Consolidated Elementary
Chloe
Ugh, where is the brat!
Chloe was pissed on this day. And the reason she was pissed had a name.
Martin. Martin 'The Meanie' Prescott.
It started in Art class, when Martin stole her blue crayon. It was her favorite color, in a pack that named its colors after animals, and this one was 'Butterfly Blue.' It was the only crayon like it left in the whole art room (I know, I checked them all!). Martin said he needed to 'borrow' it. (I'll give it right back, he said. Liar.) When he was done with it, he got Chloe's attention, broke the crayon in half while she watched, and threw it in the big trash bin.
Then, as if the previous transgression hadn't filled his daily quota, in Gym class, as she readied a dodgeball's arc to crash into his head (I'm so glad it's free-play day today! She thought with a streak of malice), she heard him tell his friend (Daniel… Dan… Dirty Dan… Dumb Dan… I'll think of a good one later, ugh) that she had kissed him! Gross! Boys were gross, and Martin was the grossest of the lot.
You're gonna get it at recess, Meanie, she later thought from the 'Penalty Box.' The teacher, Mr. Stone, had seen her drill Martin from behind with the dodgeball. The Penalty Box was where he put unruly students who didn't play nice with others. Like Chloe. Not that she cared much, she didn't really have 'friends,' just people who didn't irk her as much as others.
"You have to stay here for the hour Chloe, I'm sorry." Mr. Stone had said, voice deep and relaxing, perfect for radio. Chloe thought the apology was odd, and reflected this thought in her confused facial expression to him. Mr. Stone shrugged, turned half away from her, and said through a smirk, "It was a nice shot."
Seems even the adults were not impressed by the Prescott Legacy.
Recess came later, and Chloe sought her target. She hadn't thought through exactly how the confrontation would go, but planning was not really her area of expertise. I act, don't overthink, like Daddy does. And he's my hero. So he must be right.
Chloe climbed to the top of a nearby play-set for a better view. She scanned, anticipating the round profile of Martin to stand out amongst their peers, especially as their 1st Grade class shared their recess time with the Kindergarteners.
Aha! Found you, butthead!
She hopped down, and hurried off to do… whatever it was… she was gonna do.
Call him a butthead?
Eh, good start.
He was with another girl, much smaller than either of the First Graders. She slowed her approach, curious as to what interaction was happening.
"…you aren't, so it's mine now." He held some sort of yellow rectangle in his hands, and the little girl looked positively crushed.
A weak voice escaped from the freckled brunette (I love those freckles! Why don't I have freckles…? Focus, Chloe.), "But, my dad, got that for me…"
He had stolen it. Of course. Chloe felt the anger rise within her. Her eyes hardened, her fists clenched, and her breath shortened. Her glare tightened on Martin. She walked forward to close the distance.
"Whatever, Maxi – ooof!" He didn't finish his sentence before Chloe drove her fist into his stomach. She felt better already, even though her knuckles began to hurt. She hadn't hit anybody like that before. She snatched the object back before Martin got his bearings. It's a camera? That's pretty cool, I guess.
"Leave her alone, butthead!" Yes! Butthead name-call perfectly delivered! Chloe felt proud, doubly so since she was helping another girl, now behind her as she rounded on Martin, who glared at her, standing up.
"You don't know who you're messing with!" Always more bark than bite, Prescott.
True to form, Martin huffed and left without another word. Chloe hoped the Price Death Glare she was levying on him would make him pee his pants, or something equally embarrassing.
With Martin gone, Chloe closed her eyes and focused on her inhales and exhales. She was calmer with him gone, and almost forgot about the girl she saved until she heard "Th-Thank you!" from behind her. She turned to face the freckled girl, and flashed her best smile. She thought over the day; this might be her first genuine smile of the crap day she's had. Her reverie was interrupted by the girl, asking her something.
"Can –can I?" She held her hands toward Chloe. Her eyes, a darker, more oceanic blue than her own. They were damp, as if she had been close to crying.
"Can what?" She would have raised her hands in confusion, but she was holding… oh, duh. "Oh, this thing, yeah, for sure, all yours." She smiled at the brunette again, and she visibly brightened at the effort.
Chloe watched as her new acquaintance (maybe she'll be my friend? I totally just saved her, we're like bonded for life) stowed her disposable camera in a shoulder bag. Their eyes met briefly, until the freckled one darted her eyes away. Still, she asked Chloe "Uh, what's your name?"
"I'm Chloe! Do you wanna be a pirate with me?" Chloe bounced a little, eager in her spontaneity. She hadn't asked anyone to be a pirate with her yet, that was hers alone till today. But there was a hesitation in the other girl, and Chloe thought maybe she was too forward.
"I mean, you could use that camera whenever, you know? And I will be like, your bodyguard or whatever. Yeah, yeah!" Chloe convinced herself first, then smiled and checked for the shy one's reaction. She got a nod and sheepish smile in response. Yay! Chloe offered her hand, and it was taken immediately, no hesitation this time. It felt right. They started to walk off together.
"Oh, duh, hey!" She stopped on a dime, but her new friend didn't, and they lightly collided. They both giggled at this. "What's your name? Martin the Meanie," she felt like even his name was painful, "called you, um, Maxi? Or Maxine?"
Maxine blushed. "…Max, never Maxine."
Oh, ok. "Ok Max! Let's go claim a fort! I'll be Captain first, then you tomorrow, 'kay?"
She turned to go, but heard "Wait!" from Max, and turned back. The photographer-to-be readied her in her sights, so Chloe posed with her best 'Pirate Trouble' grin.
Max smiled briefly, but turned serious when operating her camera, which she stashed away when finished in her bag. She's actually extra cute when she's all serious.
Hands joined again, they ran off to conquer and pillage, Pirate Partners in Crime!
Chloe thought they might be partners forever.
And, maybe, in a way she was right all along.
Prescott Family Property, Arcadia Bay Outskirts
Nathan
'He hates you, Nathan.'
He does not! He's my Dad.
'He hates you! You are a terrible son.'
Oh, he hates you. You'll be lucky to live past today.
No! No! Stop it, just stop, please!
You are weak. Nothing like him.
Nathan sat in his father's truck, and waited for him to finish his business in the Barn. Often, he would have to accompany his father to this place after Nathan was done with his private tutoring. He pulled at the collar of his sailor outfit. He wasn't even sure why he had to wear it, just that his grandfather had served in the Navy.
Father pays for my private tutoring! He wouldn't do that if he didn't love me!
'He thinks you are dumb. You are dumb.'
How can you be a good son when you are this pathetic?
Nathan was never allowed inside, not even a peek. He was not allowed to even set foot outside the vehicle, lest he draw the wrath of his father. And he didn't wish to get the switch again. He asked, once, what was inside. His father had said, with a rare smile, "something marvelous, my son."
'You'll never see inside, Nathan.'
I will! He says I can when I'm older, and prove myself.
The only thing you can prove is your inferiority, Nathan.
STOP!
Nathan clutched his head, as if in pain. And he was in pain. He couldn't explain it, and his Other Voice was right: if he told his father about the Others, he would seem weak, and maybe the first Other would be right then too, and he'd never see inside the Barn. He was startled by his father opening the driver's door.
"You alright, son." It seemed a question of concern, yet sounded more a statement, and delivered with the warmth of a December snow.
"Yeah, yeah, Dad, I'm ok." Nathan lied. He was not ok.
Can't even tell your own father about your problems. Tch.
You know I'd seem weaker for it.
'Can't be weaker than the weakest, Nathan, and that's where we are.'
Mr. Prescott gave a noncommittal grunt in response. The truck, recently repainted in a silver color (Dad sure liked to repaint the truck, didn't he?), roared out of the drive and made its way home, carrying both the Prescott King and his heir.
They arrived a little less than an hour later, and Mrs. Prescott was outside to greet them. She had impeccable timing, as always.
"How are my favorite two men today?" Mrs. Prescott smiled at the pair as they exited the truck, and Nathan made to run to his mother, full of warmth like the summer sun.
As he picked up speed, however, his father called out. "Nathan! Walk, like a proper gentleman, compose yourself." There wasn't anger, per se, just disappointment.
Again, you fuck up, Nathan.
I just wanted my mom…
'Because she coddles you, Nathan.'
"Sean, please. Just because you never run to me anymore doesn't mean he can't." Nathan had walked the rest of the distance to his mother. With tears beginning, he hugged his mother, burying his face in her floral pattern sundress. She took her wide brimmed hat off her own head and placed it on Nathan's, helping obstruct the starting puffiness from Sean's prying eyes.
"That's enough, Diana. Nathan knows what he trains his life for, as do you." Mr. Prescott's wide build contrasted wildly with his wife's slender frame. Sean wore a brown colored business suit, no button out of order. He owned one such suit for every day of the week.
Diana sighed, reached close to Sean and pretended to straighten his tie (it was never not straight, Sean was perfectly sure). "I know, Sean. But he is still just a child, even as prestigious as his position might be."
"Hmmph," was all Nathan's father had to say.
Do you feel the disapproval, Nathan?
No, f-fu-fuck you! I'm doing my best, every day!
'Swearing won't help us not be disappointing, Nathan.'
Argh!
Sean set his right hand on Nathan's shoulder, and returned the hat to Diana with the other. If he noticed the red eyes of his son, he didn't show concern.
"I'm not upset, Nathan. Please ready yourself for dinner, now." That same monotone, betraying no inner thoughts or feelings.
Nathan squeaked out "Yes, sir," before starting up the white steps to their mansion. His mother called before he got very far, however.
"Wait! Before you two go, I want a picture." She twirled and retrieved her handbag from under the lawn chair she had been lounging in. From it she produced an instant camera.
Mother likes the 'metro feel' of the instant camera. Me too.
It's 'retro,' not 'metro.'
Oh, right.
You are a failure.
'Indeed. You'll never make it.'
I made a simple mistake! It's not that big…
Failure, Nathan.
"You can't be serious, Diana."
"I am, and you'll do this for me, or I won't do anything for you, later." She winked.
Sean grunted again. "You will regardless," he muttered, and Diana's face darkened, if only briefly. Nathan was confused about the exchange, but was anxious to be dismissed. He felt bad enough about today already.
Sean, knowing his wife wouldn't want a personal photo with his full business attire, and being ready for a shower after his work at the Barn, removed his tie, undid his dress jacket buttons, and loosened his cuffs. Diana, happy with said development, hummed lightly, and situated herself in front of her 'men.'
"Sit on the steps, dears." They did. Sean flinched when Nathan scooted closer to him.
"Ok!" Diana seemed blissful, framing the pair in the aperture. Nathan would remember this moment as the one where he decided to take up photography; if his beloved mother could be so happy with it, perhaps he could too.
"Smile!" Came the command.
Father spoke to son from the corner of his mouth, the other corner slightly upturned in an attempt at a smile. "Don't fuck this up, son."
Nathan cried. The flash went off.
Weak.
'Sad.'
Help me.
Nathan had a thought that being a Prescott meant he would never be free.
And, maybe, just this once the Others were right all along.
Yes.
'Yes.'