This is probably a bad idea. In fact, it's probably the worst idea I could imaginably come up with. Starting a fourth story just before school's about to start? Hmm...
I couldn't help it! This idea has been bugging away at the back of my mind for a while now. I hope to make it slightly longer than my last stories, provided that the first chapter actually wets any of your appetites. Let me know! I'm all excited ;)
Happy reading!
x
My eyes were burning in their sockets.
God, this is embarrassing.
It's a well known fact that I generally do not cry. It's not that I want to seem tough or badass, but somehow I just don't fancy shedding bodily fluids is the way to release emotions. I didn't cry when my Grandma died. I didn't cry when Harley, my beautiful Great Dane, had to be put down. I didn't cry when there was a flood in the house and I lost everything I owned.
But here I was, crying. Weeping. Like a wimp.
The window I was staring out of had a large jagged crack running through the pane of glass like a lightning bolt. The downpour made it difficult to see clearly, but through the sheets of cascading rain, I kept my eyes trained on a figure banging the door to his car boot shut. He wiped his hands down on his pale jeans and picked up the leather bag at his feet before throwing it into the back of the silver Mercedes.
He hesitated. I stopped breathing when his eyes flickered up to the window I was standing at, with my arms wrapped around my torso like a shield. His dark hair was plastered onto his face, and he had a contorted expression, probably from trying to see through his glasses. He turned away from the window at last and slipped into the driver's seat, before starting the car and driving away. I watched until the car was lost to the mist the rain had created.
"Max." I felt Mum's arms move to gently hug my shoulders. I cleared my throat hurriedly, trying to push back the tears, but I couldn't help it – she was holding me, and everyone knows that when you're sad, and someone is holding you, you just can't help but let it all out.
"It's okay, honey."
No it isn't. It wasn't okay. It was far from okay. Why the hell was she even using a word that had no meaning or weight whatsoever? – nothing was ever "okay".
"Sorry, sorry. It's not okay." My mother knows me too well. Or maybe I was glaring defiantly at her through my tears. She rubbed my arms in a comforting manner. "But we'll get through it together, right?"
I sniffed hard and attempted to offer her a small smile. It probably came out as a grimace. She smiled gently, and I just knew that her heart was breaking inside. Everything about her seemed to droop. Her ponytail was loose, her face free of makeup, her eyes framed by deep and dark bags, even her earrings, green and silver, were hanging in a dejected manner. I sighed and allowed myself at last to relax in my Mum's arms. She wasn't much of a crier either. But I knew the pain she was suffering was much like mine, probably worst. I stood on tiptoes, lifted my right hand and brushed my fingers gently along her cheek.
She looked down at me and smiled.
"At least I still have you."
...
"This is really stupid."
"Oh, don't be such a killjoy."
I sighed and looked pointedly at Ella. "I just feel that at the age of sixteen and eleven months, I shouldn't be required to attend childish and culturally lacking events such as this."
"Max, it's a funfair."
"Exactly."
Ella took hold of my right arm and looked up at me with excitement twinkling in her brown eyes. "Robert's going to be here."
"I couldn't care less."
Ella released my arm. For a few moments we walked in silence and she stared at the toes of her boots. "Max."
"Mmm?"
"I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"Answer honestly, okay? I won't judge you for it."
"Shoot."
"Our friendship will always be strong, no matter what answer you give me now."
"Ella, just ask the fucking question."
She sucked in a quick breath. "Are you gay?"
I stopped walking. She stopped at the same time and began chewing on her bottom lip, not quite making eye contact with me. I sighed and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. A tired gesture. I was a tired girl. "What the hell is your problem?" I demanded at last.
"Max, you can hardly blame me! Anyone who does not find Robert Sommerfield or any other boy in the entire school at least remotely attractive is either gay or has mental deficiencies."
"You didn't offer the second option."
"I was getting to it."
I sighed again. "Ella. Every boy in this school is either incessantly horny or just needs help with their Maths homework."
"You could still show interest."
I turned to face her, glaring accusingly at her rosy face. "You didn't bother showing interest until earlier this term!"
Ella rolled her eyes. "Yeah. It was only earlier this term that I realised in being friends with you, I have resigned myself to a doomed life, never getting married or having anything in the means of a social life."
"I'm hurt."
We continued walking. I dragged Ella to a stop by the candyfloss stall and paid for two, ignoring her comments about my greediness.
"Be grateful that I'm even thinking about you." I said as I handed the stick to her. As I delved my face into the pink fluff, she squealed excitedly.
"There he is!" I ignored her before I felt a sharp pinch on my elbow.
"Ow." I mumbled through my full mouth. "Wha-?"
"There he is!" She pointed. I looked. A tall boy with thick, wavy blonde hair was lounging against a van and talking to two other people. Even from a distance, his bold green eyes and twisted grin were easy to see. "Just tell me he's not hot."
"He is..."
"Knew it!"
"But I don't-"
I was cut off when my back pocket began to vibrate. I sighed and moved the candyfloss away from my face, where I had been holding it so I could at least smell it when Ella wouldn't let me consume it, and took my phone from my pocket.
I stared at the screen displaying the Caller ID.
"Mum?"
"Hey Max."
"What's wrong?" I was naturally wired to suppose that if my mother ever contacted me through a mobile phone, something was amiss. She hated the devices, and was usually too busy at work to call me anyway.
"Where are you?"
"At the funfair with El- hey!"
Ella snatched the phone from my hand and held it up to her ear. "Hi Mrs Martinez! Yes, it's Ella... Fine, thank you. I just wanted to ask you something. Wait one sec."
Ella lowered the phone and pressed the Loudspeaker button, before holding it flat in her palm and speaking again, ignoring my glares. "Mrs Martinez, don't you think Max should get a boyfriend?"
There was a silence on the other end of the line before my mother's hesitant and slightly crackling voice came through. "I'm sure that would do her a lot of good, Ella." Ella grinned at me. "Now, would you mind handing the phone back to Maximum for a minute, please?"
I frowned as Ella allowed me to turn Loudspeaker off. My Mum never called me Maximum. It was like an unwritten rule in our relationship – she knew how much I hated my full name. It could only mean that something was badly wrong.
"Yeah?"
"I'm so sorry, honey, but I need you to come home."
"That's alright. Want to tell me what's going on?"
She sighed audibly. "I'll tell you as soon as you get home."
She hung up without so much as a goodbye. I frowned at the phone, then at Ella as I stuffed it back into my pocket.
"I have to go home."
"How come?"
I shrugged. "She hasn't said yet. But it's got to be something big, right? Mum's never home on Fridays and she never calls my mobile."
"Mmm." Ella looked thoughtful. She walked with me as I returned the way we had come. "It might be something to do with her job."
"Maybe." Unlikely. She wouldn't need me to go home if something had happened at work. We stopped walking when we reached the big, metal fence separating the grounds of the funfair from the outside world. "I'll call you as soon as I can."
Ella nodded, before giving me a quick hug. I smiled as she pulled back. Ella knew how much I hated hugs, and only offered them to me when I was really upset. "See you." She squeezed my hand one more time before I turned to walk briskly to the bus stop. I was aware her eyes were on my back as I moved away.
A drop of something wet landed on my forehead and slid slowly down my nose and onto my lip. I sighed. This wouldn't be good for the people at the funfair. I collapsed onto the bench at the bus stop and waited for number 32, trying to keep all unfriendly thoughts at bay.
...
Fifteen minutes later I was standing outside my front door, with a newspaper I had picked up on the bus held over my head to keep the rain off as I struggled to stick my key in the lock. It was always a toughy. Eventually, I twisted the key and shoved the door open with my shoulder, stumbling hurriedly into my dry and inviting home.
"Max?"
Mum was standing in front of me as soon as I lifted my head. I smiled.
"Hey."
She sighed and moved forward to pull me into a hug. Woah.
"Mum?"
"Mmm?"
"Um... why are you hugging me?"
She dropped her arms back to her sides and sighed, looking sheepishly at me. "Sorry. I'm not... all there, you know?"
I took her hand in mine and pulled her into the kitchen where we dropped into two chairs facing each other. She leaned forward and clasped her hands together, looking at her fingertips studiously.
"Something has happened."
"I gathered." I retorted, sitting back in my seat. She gave me a look before training her eyes back on her hands.
"Honey, promise you'll listen until I've finished."
I frowned. "Okay."
"It's... your father."
It felt like someone had stuck me suddenly into a freezer. Everything lost its bright glow beneath the light bulb on the ceiling and seemed cold and uninviting. I felt my stomach clench. "Jeb?" A steely voice came from my mouth.
Mum looked up at me, and all her defences seemed to fall away. She groaned and dropped her head into her hands. "Yes. Jeb."
I waited for her to continue, but all I saw was her taking a few deep breaths, her shoulders heaving with each intake.
"What about him?" I demanded.
"He... he's coming back."
I stood up, the chair scraping back behind me. I was going to be sick.
"Coming back?" I repeated weakly. Mum looked up at me and bit her lip. "Here?"
"With his family."
Silence. Neither of us breathed for several moments. The world was dropping away around me. He was coming back. With his family.
"How do you know?" A stranger's voice.
"He called."
"You spoke to him?" I spat accusingly. Mum's face hardened slightly.
"I don't plan on acting like a two year old, Max."
I breathed out slowly and felt myself collapse against the wall. Dad. My Dad was coming back. After eleven years, with no word as to where he was and what he was doing. Did he think we were going to roll out the red carpet, welcome him back home with loving arms? He had broken all our hearts! He had destroyed my childhood. He had run away, like the coward he was, and now he's coming back because he has reinforcements and he's not scared any more.
"I'll be damned if I let that son of a bitch back into this house."
"Max!"
I ignored her. All I could think of was getting away, leaving the thoughts behind with her.
"Maximum Batchelder, stop right there!"
I spun around, feeling heat rise in my face. "Don't call me that!" She stared at me. "Never call me that! My name is Martinez. I will never share that bastard's name. Hear me? And he is not coming back!"
Mum moved forward swiftly when I was done screaming to grip my shoulders.
"Max, honey." My head throbbed painfully.
"What?" I croaked weakly.
"Max... he's coming. I said he could come over for dinner."
I stumbled away from her arms like she had slapped me. "What do you mean?" My voice was quiet now, deathly.
She bit down on her lip hard. "Tonight. He's coming back. Tonight."
...
I sat cross legged on my floor, staring at my reflection in the mirror on my wall. I had stuck post-it notes and stickers all around the edges, but in the centre was my face. My pale, drawn-looking face. I had my dirty blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. My skin was smooth and white, my nose covered with a spray of freckles and my brown eyes stared at myself in the glass, looking worn and tired.
I hadn't texted Ella.
I reached forward to where my phone was charging at the wall and opened up a new message. Inhaling deeply, I allowed my fingers to press the buttons on the phone.
Everything is shit. Tell u later.
Anger consumed me again and I threw the phone at the wall roughly, just before the doorbell sounded.
I heard something bang somewhere else in the house, and a groan that could only be my mothers.
"Max?"
"What?" I replied coldly to her muffled voice.
"Answer the door, please. I'm still not ready."
I stood up slowly and viewed my outfit of pale, skinny jeans and a loose knitted red jumper with the sleeves rolled up, before opening my bedroom door and moving down the stairs slowly. Usually I would busy myself assembling the perfect scowl to greet my idiot of a father with, but right now I was too numb to even think about acting like me. I reached the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang again.
"Max!" My Mum's shrill scream came from upstairs.
I rolled my eyes before pulling the front door open.
My breath caught in my throat.
"Maxie?"
He was there. Standing opposite me. His dark hair had fallen out slightly, but his blue eyes were as full-of-life as I remembered from my childhood, his silver-framed glasses still pushed back on his long crooked nose. His skin was fairly tan and he wore a white flannel shirt with the top two buttons open, and pale jeans.
A sickened feeling overcame me.
"God, Max. My little girl." He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms.
That was when the tears threatened to spring from beneath my closed eyelids. I dragged in a deep, steadying breath before releasing myself from his grip roughly. He adjusted his glasses and frowned slightly.
"Jeb?" I heard my Mum scurry down the stairs.
"Valencia!" He grinned and lifted a hand in greeting. I continued to stare up at him, numb everywhere. "God, it's been a long time."
"Eleven years." My voice was rough. Jeb looked at me in surprise, something which resembled guilt crossing his face.
"That's how long it's been. Dad."
Woo. Feisty Max :P Fang, my love, shall be appearing in the next chapter and you won't be getting rid of him till the end of the story. (My imaginary Fang: Damn Right.)
So? Any appetites wetted? I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU REVIEEEEW :D
x
