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Seven Minutes From You

Part 2

blamethebluebirds

Riding my bike to Chloe's house this late stirs up many childhood memories; most of which ended with the two of us in deep shit with her mom. I almost smile at the thought but then Victoria's face pops into my head and it's like being doused with ice water.

I pedal faster.

Before stepping onto Chloe's lawn, I unceremoniously chuck my bike into the neighbor's bushes. After scooping up a handful of gravel near the driveway, I slip ninja-like through the chain link fence and into the backyard. I carefully avoid the flood of light spilling onto the grass from the sliding, glass door until I make it safely around the corner and find myself straining my neck to stare up at Chloe's bedroom window.

The window is dark but the low hum of music tickles my ear so I ready my ammo of pebbles. I toss the first one and it veers off course, smacking against the side of the house uselessly. The second manages to make a nice little tap! against the panel of glass but I get no response. I arch a third, then fourth before the window is forced up with a squeak.

I see a messy head of blue hang out and I stage whisper, "It's Max."

"No shit," Chloe calls back, half her face cast in shadow. Even though she makes an effort to be quiet, I cringe as her voice seems to echo loudly across the yard. "Who else throws rocks at my window in the middle of the night?"

I make a show of pondering her question. "Aliens?"

She snorts, hanging further out the window. "I'm pretty sure they would just levitate me out of here if they wanted my attention that badly."

"I need to talk," I say, cutting to the chase.

"Hold on." Chloe's head disappears and the sound of shuffling followed by clinking glass reaches my ears. Though I'm fully expecting it, the rope still startles me as one end sails out the window and slaps against the house.

I freeze, listening for any sign of Chloe's stepdad coming to investigate the noise. Thankfully, Lieutenant Dan doesn't come raging around the corner and I breathe a sigh of relief until I realize I'll be climbing this spongy rope to reach a second-story window.

I've done this dozens of times in the past yet I've never been entirely comfortable with heights. I blame it on the time Chloe convinced me that if I believed hard enough, I could fly off to Neverland and fight pirates with Peter Pan. Let's just say the day ended with a trip to the hospital, two broken arms, and enough teasing to last several lifetimes.

I never fully forgave her for that.

Steeling myself, I scrambled up the knotted rope with feet interlocked like Chloe taught me during our tree climbing days. My arms burned by the time I was finally able to reach the windowsill. Grunting with exertion, I squirmed through head first until my best friend was able to grab the back of my shirt and haul me the rest of the way in. I slumped to the carpet, mouth breathing like a creepy, fat dude.

"You clearly work out," Chloe dead-panned, watching as I floundered around the floor until I was in an upright position.

"Thanks for noticing," I wheezed, stumbling over to the unmade bed and collapsing on top of a pile of laundry.

"Hey, watch it," she yelped. "Those are clean."

It took a great deal of motivation but I managed to sit up and spare the clean clothes. Chloe took the time to duck down behind the clunky contraption she called a TV. The old Halloween lights strung about the walls and ceiling lit up, casting an orange haze over everything.

My best friend glanced up, doing a double-take when she caught sight of my nose. "What happened to your face?" she asked incredulously.

"Oh," I self-consciously touched my swollen schnozz. It was now twice its original size, the left nostril stuffed with a wad of tissue. "I fell at work."

I immediately felt guilty for lying to my best friend but the last thing I needed was for Chloe to go flying off the handle.

"Max, honestly," she scoffed, hopping up to perch on the edge of her desk. "You're about as convincing a liar as a Sesame Street character."

I leveled my best glare at Chloe but she was too occupied with lighting up a cigarette to take notice. My eyes followed the smoke swirling about the orange glow like cream in a cappuccino then confessed in a low voice, "Some guy tripped me into a cabinet."

The resulting response was immediate. "What! Who was it? I'll bash his face in!"

"Shh!" I waved my hands about anxiously. "Keep it down."

She reluctantly fell silent but sat glowering and simmering as hot-headed as her cigarette. She shot me a dark look. I continued, hesitantly. "It was just some jock. I guess he thought it'd be funny to see me eat it or whatever. I don't know. Anyway, it's no biggie. Someone ended up coming to my rescue."

"Who? Your boy toy, Nerdilocks?"

"No!" I squeaked, affronted. "It was a girl. And Warren isn't my boyfriend."

"Uh-huh. Who was the chick?" Chloe asked, momentarily forgetting her earlier anger.

"About that." I began to pick at a loose thread hanging off the bed, conveniently avoiding eye contact. "That's why I wanted to talk to you in the first place."

How much was I going to confess to Chloe exactly? I knew for a fact that she was all too familiar with who Victoria was. Everyone in Arcadia bay did. Besides the fact that Victoria was, like, the richest girl in all of Oregon, she was also the greatest dancer to ever grace Blackwell's performing arts program.

"The—girl," I blurted, making up my mind not to mention Victoria's name at the last second. "who came to my rescue, well, um—I guess—"

"Spit it out," Chloe urged, growing impatient with my stuttering.

"Ithinkshewascheckingmeout!" I rushed, the words running together awkwardly. Chloe looked ready to burst into a fit of laughter so I took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm pretty sure I caught her looking at my ass."

As soon as Chloe chomped down on her lips to keep from laughing hysterically, I knew this was a terrible idea.

Should I just rewind here?

Before I could do my freaky superpower thing, Chloe was able to pull herself together enough to choke out, "And you're telling me this because?"

"Oh, well you see, I just thought because you're gay and all you could tell me—" What the hell is coming out of my mouth? Stop talking, Max. "—I mean, at least I was hoping you could tell me why I—"

Thankfully Chloe could see the horrible struggle wreaking havoc on my insides and came to my rescue. "Max, chill dude. Think about what you want to say then say it."

Breathe. Just breathe.

I sat in the stillness listening to the guitar drift stemming from the boom box and worked at getting my head on straight. When my thoughts were sorted into something resembling order, I confessed, "When I realized the girl was checking me out, I felt flattered of course but, more than that, I felt this sort of thrill go through me. I guess I'm just a bit confused. Shouldn't I feel, I don't know, something else—anything else?"

Chloe took a long drag, blue bangs falling into her face while she takes her time coming up with an answer for me. "Was she hot?"

Okay, that was not what I was expecting.

"What?"

"Just answer the question, Max."

"Well yeah, I guess." I could perfectly bring to mind the image of Victoria's face; the blue of her eyes, the sweep of her hair.

I remember the school put on a production at the beginning of the year, a way to start the school year off with a bang. I remember how Victoria glistened beneath the waxy colors of the spotlight. Her body twirling and bending and weaving a heartbreaking story to the sound of a lonely violin. How, in that moment, I wanted to capture her on camera more than anything.

"She's beautiful," I whispered softly and never have my words fallen so short before.

"I think you have your answer then," Chloe smirked, tilting her head back and blowing a circle of smoke. I was once again reminded that there were times when my best friend seemed wise beyond her years.

It's been several days since the Victoria incident and my nose has finally gone back to its rightful size. After my big revelation, I expected the world to seem different, altered in some way to fit the way I, myself, felt transformed. But everything was as it should be.

The Vortex Club still owned the school, the nerds still bullied into submission, and Victoria was still a raging, hormonal bitch.

Though there was one thing out of the ordinary: Victoria seems to be avoiding me. Well, as much as anyone can avoid someone who shares two of their classes.

The popular girl would usually take any opportunity to humiliate me but during science class, Ms. Grant called me out to answer a question about chromosomes and, of course, I didn't know what to say because science confuses me. That was supposed to be Victoria's cue to raise her hand, give the correct answer and then smack me down with a witty, snarky remark about my questionable intelligence.

Instead, she remained silent, diligently facing forward in her seat.

Mind blowing.

So now I'm in the photography department's dark room after school, waiting for my photos to develop so I can go home. I'm the last one here as per usual.

Sometimes being the teacher's pet has its benefits.

I'm just about to transfer the negative to the drying rack when I hear a commotion coming from behind the door. No one's supposed to be in here. As far as I know Mrs. Mueller only gave me permission to stay after class with the condition of that I lock up afterwards. I shrug it off, thinking that it's probably just a classmate that left something behind, when I hear what can only be Victoria's voice.

I hold my breath and listen. I can tell that she's conversing with someone and from the sound of it, it's a heated argument. I can't make out any of the words, just the hum of whispered voices.

I find it odd that Victoria is in the photography room in the first place. There's really no reason for it other than the fact that it's an empty classroom in a secluded part of the school.

Curiosity tugs at me, demanding I take a peek but I don't dare risk ruining my negatives. I shuffle closer to the door, anxious to overhear what's being said, when my shoulder brushes against a shelf and a box of clothes pins falls to the floor with a resounding clatter.

I'm mentally beating myself up when the voices abruptly halt and the sound of a door opening and closing can be heard. The resulting silence that permeates from outside tells me they're both gone.

Nice, Max. Real nice. Let's do this right the second go around.

I immediately hold up my hand, concentrating on my surroundings. Everything around me starts to whir backwards, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed. The scattered pins pile back into their box before it zips back to its original position on the shelf. The familiar ache starts to bloom behind my eyes as my last batch of negatives slip from the pool of chemicals on their own. It's only then that I start to slowly back off on the rewinding and as soon as my hand drops to my side, the world stops and I'm left with a terrible headache.

I've gone back far enough that my second batch of photos haven't even been prepped yet so I quickly turn off the closet's red, fluorescent light and inch the door open just a crack. Then I wait.

It's not long before the classroom door swings open once again and I hear Victoria's voice, much clearer this time. "Okay, we're here. Talk." She clearly sounds pissed.

"Enough with the attitude, Victoria." The voice that answers is masculine, older. It also sounds faintly familiar. "You know what I have to say about the matter."

"How can I possibly forget," she growls back. There's a set of light footsteps followed by a much heavier set. "You never stop reminding me."

"You know I only want what's best for you," Mystery dude states, his voice low and soft.

"Oh, like you'd know," She scoffs.

"I know you wouldn't get far without me."

"I can," Victoria states intensely, voice rising. "And I will. I'm doing this my way and I don't need your so called guidance."

A thick silence ensues, broken suddenly by a desk sliding abruptly across the floor; the noise loud enough to startle me.

"You really think you can make something of yourself without me?" The voice is at a lower register now and I shiver at the clear threat it holds. "I've worked with several girls that were just as talented as you and thought they could do this without me. Can you take a guess at where they are now? No? Then let me tell you where they are. They're on their knees giving head to anyone willing to spare a little cash. And before you start on about daddy's money, let me remind you that money can certainly get you places but not in this business. It's all about who you know and if you cross me, I'll make sure you never dance across another stage, you understand? I said, do you understand?"

There's what sounds like a small scuffle and I'm on the verge of intervening when Victoria spits, "Get off me." Even from my hiding place I can hear the waver in her voice.

There's another drawn out pause before the heavy footsteps start up and the door slams shut with a bang. I nearly breathe a sigh of relief until I hear a smothered sob that pulls at my thundering heart.

What the hell was that? Who was that guy?

My head is reeling and I want to rewind again just so I can interrupt whatever the fuck that was all over again but I know I can't. My head wouldn't be able to handle two rewinds in such short succession. Another cut-off whimper nearly causes me to explode from the dark room to offer some kind of comfort but the potential fallout that could result keeps my feet riveted to the floor. So, like a coward, I stay hidden, my heart threatening to split as badly as my head, listening to the sobs of a girl I never thought capable of crying.