Max squinted her eyes, silencing the morning rays of sunshine that pierced through her half-blinded window while she gingerly assembled the contents of her backpack. If she left soon, she could spend her entire Saturday out in the city, and never have to see Mom or Calvin. A goal worth striving for. Both of them were blessedly late risers.
The Polaroid instant camera, nestled comfortably on her desk, drew Max's attention. Her sole remaining passion, photography, afforded the excuse to spent most of the day out doors-away from the torture that had become family interaction. Unfortunately, Max's choice in instant photography was proving to be an inconvenient obsession. Calvin had established himself as the "bread winner" of the household, and saw little reason to spend his hard-earned cash on expensive film for a "fru-fru hipster" technology choice. For months now he'd been prodding Max to use a digital camera; he even offered to buy her one. That stunned Max more than anything. Calvin's obsession with her made little sense.
Like he could undo what he's done with a fucking present? Does he really think I'll reciprocate, and think he's a great guy, if he drops a few hundred bucks on me? "Sorry about all the abuse, here, have a shiny toy!" Get real. But I guess telling mom did actually have an impact. He never seemed bothered much by his behavior before. Not that telling Mom solved anything.
The bitter memory of telling Vanessa about Calvin froze Max in place. She became a statuette in the middle of her room, thoughts pulling her down into a maelstrom of dark memories...
"Maxine. This is my brother you're talking about. He would never do that."
"Mom," Max had cried, "I swear. I wouldn't make this up! Why would I make this up? Just ask him what he did last night while you were out. He'll do that wrist rubbing thing he always does when he-"
"That's enough, daughter-of-mine," Vanessa broke in. Max stopped mid sentence, like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.
"I don't know where this is coming from," Vanessa continued. "Some half-hearted attempt to shift blame? Making up stories won't change reality, Maxine."
The venom in her mother's words hurt, but Max was determined to press forward. She didn't want to do it. She bit her lip, and displayed what she assumed would be proof. Her hands lifted her shirt, exposing a bruise down her midsection. Vanessa allowed a small gasp escape her lips in response. Max let the shirt fall back into place, ashamed, yet confident that her point was made.
A stupid, naive assumption.
"So you think hurting yourself is the answer, now? And blaming your uncle? I thought we raised you better than this, Maxine. You were always such a good girl. I swear. What would your father think?"
Her mother's blasé rejection left Max stunned. It had taken weeks to summon the courage to have this conversation. Night after night of running through how it would go, trying to account for each line of dialog. But none of her simulations predicted this. Mom was supposed to break down-realize her mistake in trusting Calvin. This was supposed to be their moment to reconnect: for a mother to reaffirm her love of her daughter. Instead, things went in a different direction.
"Mom, p-please. I swear! I'm not making this-"
Once again, Vanessa cut her daughter off mid-sentence. "I won't hear any more of this. It's obvious I've been too lenient on you since your father's death. Allowed you to enter into all sorts of delusions of fantasy."
The insinuation that this was somehow fantasy forced Max to take a step backwards, and steady herself to keep from falling over entirely. A wave a nausea descended, and the very thought of speaking again made her queasy. Vanessa took this as a sign of admission.
"I swear, Maxine. If you bring this up again with me, or god help you, our friends, I won't be able to protect you. You do know what happens when girls cry wolf about this sort of thing, don't you?"
Max didn't know, but her mother's words instilled a terrifying reality into her mind. If her own flesh and blood thought she was a lair, what chance did she have? Who would believe her? Who would think this wasn't just some perverted cry for attention?
The conversation ended with Vanessa refocusing her attention to her phone's screen. Apparently a new tweet held greater appeal than sacrificing another moment of time to her daughter. Max slowly backed away, dejected, confused, and hurt. Her entire reality just had the rug swept out from under it, leaving no steady ground on which to stand.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I do deserve this...
Max snapped out of the painful memory when she realized her destination was coming up. Without a moment's hesitation she reached for the plastic cord above her that would request the next stop. Too little, too late. The bus blasted by 3rd & Pine, the coach driver completely ignoring her admittedly late request for a stop.
Not that it mattered much. Stops in downtown Seattle happened every few blocks, so all it meant was a few extra steps walking. Another something to fill the hours of the day. However, Max sullenly remembered why she avoided this next stop.
Stepping off the bus, she was greeted by the "Chase Space, a Modern Gallery to Capture the Spirit of the Times."
As if. And to think I fantasized about my photos being shown here.
But Max couldn't prevent the the current display from drawing her attention. It still exhibited Jacob Landhauser's work from last year's contest. Much to her chagrin, she was forced to admit he boy had skill. Possibly more than her own. Sure, his familial connections might have bribed his way into first place, but the actual photography was nothing to scoff at. It was clear he had a passion for it.
Max reminisced on the past few days at school, since her cringe-worthy display at the lunch time moderated panel. Victoria and her crew hadn't let up the pressure: it was as if they were determined to drive Max to her end-to force her to take a final solution.
Joke's on them. I enjoy being alive, thank you. I don't have so much pride that a couple of bullies could tempt me to end it. Fuck that.
Still, Max knew she was lying to herself if she claimed their repeated attacks didn't hurt. On Friday, one of them had managed to steal control of the morning's announcements. Which are voiced to the whole school, over the intercom.
"And today's hot lunch is pizza, at seven dollars a slice. Or, if you're feeling soft, Maxine Caulfield will give you something hot at half the price! Her phone number is 206-33..."
A teacher cut the announcer short before she could finish dictating the number. Max later learned that the incident was taken seriously by the administration, but not enough to actually dole out any meaningful punishments. The student who had made the announcement, Taylor, was given a slap on the wrist of two days suspension.
Benefits of having a dad that's friends with the principal, I suppose. Not that it matters. If it wasn't her, then it would've been someone else. Victoria's friends are legion.
Max shook herself free from Friday's nightmare and made her way towards Pike's Place Market. It was a cliche place for photos, Max knew, but she was hoping to get her shots framed correctly before the crowds showed up (as they always did).
The "piano man," as Max thought of him, always appeared with a spinet on rollers at the corner of an intersection of the market during the spring and summer months. Kind and grateful, the elderly gentleman played the most entrancing and somber melodies. They fit Max's mood perfectly. Finding the perfect photograph of him and his art became a quiet obsession of Max's-as if doing so could bring rationalization to her own state of mind.
The man himself didn't seem to care. Always making plenty off tips, he never paid Max any heed, and allowed her photograph away without any harassment. Max considered their silent relationship as a sort of special bond. They both recognized each other, and felt no reason to interfere in each other's art.
Of course, it was always possible that the pianist had never noticed Max, and this entitled familiarity existed entirely in her own head. After all, he was the one drawing crowds, a feat Max had only dreamt of. Though she had the attention of her peers, their focus was most certainly not derived from her accomplishments.
Thoughtlessly, Max stepped out into an intersection on her way towards the market. Half way in she realized her mistake. A gray clunker of a vehicle, a truck so weathered and torn that the make was almost indistinguishable, rushed through a changing light, and very nearly ran over Max's foot. Max took an involuntary step back, shaken at how close she'd come to being converted into a teenage pancake. Oddly enough the only thing that saved her was the trucker's driver, who had honked loudly while plunging through the intersection. The noise pierced Max's earphones, saving her life.
Some drivers! I hope there's a special place in hell for recklessness like that. Yellow means slow down, not speed up!
Lost in thought, Max crossed the road and started down the sidewalk on the other side. Like a sixth sense, she could feel the onset of focused attention. Slowly, she stopped, and looked around. Sure enough, Jacob Landhauser stood outside the local Mediterranean restaurant, holding a gyros in hand. He was flanked on either side by Victoria and his older brother Drew, both of whom were whispering into his ear.
Max had never interacted much with Drew, Jacob's athletic senior brother. Unlike Jacob, Drew had a large, intimidating presence, which he flaunted without hesitation. Freezing Max in her place with a glare, he called out, "Well if it isn't the little bitch herself. Seriously, check this shit out." He nudged Victoria, who nodded eagerly in affirmation.
"Girl thinks she's too good for us Landhausers," he continued. "Would be a pity if something happened to that ancient piece of shit she calls a camera."
Max gulped and clutched her Polaroid to her chest, while taking steps to slowly back away. A futile gesture. Drew closed the distance between them in seconds, a venerable body of muscle towering over Max, with a self-satisfied grin plastered across his face. Max tightened her grip on the camera, which she still held in front of her in defiance.
Drew smirked, and ripped the Polaroid from Max's grasp with the greatest of ease.
"No," Max pleaded as he held the camera high above her head, inches out of reach.
Seriously... this can't be happening! That camera is the one thing I have left...
Jacob, as always, looked bored. Victoria chortled, crossing her arms and leaning towards Jacob to whisper something. Jacob simply shrugged.
"You know, I always overhear your uncle complaining about this shit to my dad. How much does this little hobby cost your family, anyway? Three dollars a shot? Four? How about we-"
Max decided she had had enough. Gathering her will, she leapt into the air with both arms, gaining a handle on the camera. For a second she hung, suspended mid-air by Drew's single arm which also still held the camera. Drew's grin grew wider.
"Seriously, she's like a fucking cat, or something. Jacob, check this shit out!"
With a bored sounding "hrumph," Jacob finished his meal and threw the wrapper in a nearby trash can. Before Max could register what was happening, he snatched the camera from both Drew and Max, who had managed to lower Drew's arm back down to her own height. He considered the camera for a moment-and then, without a care in the world, tossed it into the street. Seconds later a passing semi truck smashed it to pieces. The driver honked, yelling "damn kids," or something similar, out his window as he passed. Max barely noticed.
Jacob returned to Victoria, who was just short of bowling over with laughter. Drew followed his brother, giving him a pat on the back. Throughout the whole ordeal, Jacob hadn't said a word. It was as if nothing of note had transpired. Holding back tears, Max stumbled for a few steps before breaking out into a run. She could hear Drew and Victoria's laughter grow louder as she put as much distance between them as she could, speeding aimlessly down the sidewalk.
After a few blocks exhaustion set in, and she slowed the pace to a brisk walk.
I can't believe that just happened. What the... the HELL? I haven't done anything. Don't they have anything better to do? And now... now what is there? Not as if I've got an allowance to replace my camera. Like I could replace that one anyway.
Max sniffled, remembering the happy memory of her fourteenth birthday. When her father had given the Polaroid as a present. Both her parents knew Max had wanted one since before moving, and receiving the camera felt like getting a piece of her childhood back.
Great. Now... now what? Maybe the universe is just telling me to give up? It's been one horrible thing after the other since, well, since moving here. So much death, so much...
Max shuddered, suppressing more recent, awful memories. Aimlessly, she kept walking, filtering through the growing crowds on Seattle's downtown sidewalks. It was mid morning now and the city was beginning to come alive with stores and restaurants opening for the day's business. After countless minutes, Max came to an abrupt and sudden stop. That haggard, dilapidated truck from earlier was parked sloppily against the curb. In a "load only" zone, no less. A quick glance up revealed it was parked just outside the Maddross Hotel. A place where you'd expect to see luxury vehicles, not something that looked one step away from an afterlife in a junkyard.
The driver was nowhere to be found. Max wasn't sure why, but she felt a sudden hatred for the vehicle well up within her. As if the truck was a bad omen. Without another thought she kicked a tire, as hard as she could. The only effect was a stubbed toe. But Max jumped clean into the air when she heard a shout directly behind her.
"Hey, feet off the goods!"
Oh, fuck. Just perfect. Like this day couldn't get any worse.
Max bit her lip as a forceful hand on her shoulder swung her around. And the person accosting her was... not what she expected. The truck's owner wore a head of blue hair, protected by a beanie, of all things. She was styled head to toe in a classic punk-rock attire. She gave Max an irritated scowl before squinting her eyes. There was something oddly familiar about this person.
"Wait a sec," the girl muttered, giving Max a studied look.
The floodgates of recognition opened for Max the same moment they did Chloe. Both took a step back, exclaiming, "Max?!" and "Chloe?!" at the same time.
But the moment was over as soon as it started. Chloe's amazed expression quickly soured, and she pushed past Max to open the driver's side door.
"Chloe..." Max said softly, reaching out a little with one hand.
Chloe paused, one hand on the opened truck door, looking away towards the street. "I guess ghosting your best friend wasn't enough, huh? Gotta vandalize her car too?"
Max closed her mouth, heart thumping loudly in her chest. More than anything, she wanted to say something. To ask for forgiveness... anything to keep Chloe from getting into that truck's cabin, and disappearing forever. Chloe hung for a moment more, giving Max another look as she chewing the side of her cheek and rested one arm against her vehicle.
"You almost hit me, earlier, when I was trying to cross the street..." Max cursed herself as soon as the words left her mouth.
Idiot! What the hell, Max? How about not accusing her of something right off the bat?
But Max felt like she needed to explain why she kicked the truck, and those were the only words that came to mind.
"Oh, so now it's my fault," Chloe replied. "Well, I'm so sorry Max. Here, tell you what. I'll get in, drive off, and you'll never have to worry about my sorry ass running you over again. This whole trip was a fucking waste, anyway. Makes perfect sense you'd show up though. Really completes this shit-tacular experience."
Max cringed at the implied sarcasm in Chloe's words, rubbing her arm while staring at the sidewalk. Chloe looked distraught as well, staring at the sky, the building, anywhere but at Max. After a few moments of silence, Chloe grunted, threw herself into the truck, and slammed the door. The truck roared to life and Chloe hit the gas, leaving a hurt and confused Max coughing in a plume of smoke.
"Maxine, have you seen my keys?" Vanessa pranced about the house frantically, looking under the haphazard array of cushions, pillows, and magazines that were strewn about their living room. She was dolled up with a revealing dress and several layers of make up.
Max, who had spent the remainder of her Saturday closeted away in her room, shook her head silently and set her focus back to the TV. Some mindless program was playing; Max didn't follow or care about its contents.
Just earlier, during dinner, Vanessa announced her plans to go out drinking with some friends. Max faced another evening alone with Calvin.
"How about you keep Mom company," Max had asked Calvin just an hour earlier, when they were seated around the family dining table, consuming a low-effort pre-frozen meal. "I'm sure her friends would love you..."
"Your mom needs her private time, Max. I wouldn't want to interfere," Calvin replied curtly as Max's question trailed off. He took another long swig of his beer.
That's his fourth drink tonight. And it's only 6:00.
The day had taken a toll on Max. From her camera being destroyed, to her bitter reunion with Chloe, it took every ounce of determination not to break into random tears. She had hoped Mom would stay in tonight. That her encounter with Chloe was the last of the day's cruelties.
But of course Mom's going out. And of course Calvin's just sitting around, getting drunk. I... I'm not going through this any more. Not today. I don't care what happens. This ends.
Max had thought of little else besides Chloe all day. Cursing herself over and over again for how she handled the situation.
We could've... I dunno... reconnected? She'd... she'd believe me. I'm sure of it. But she's so different! Those clothes, and that attitude. Totally not what I expected. It is pretty cool though...
"Okay, I'm off! You two have a good evening, you hear? I'll be back late so don't wait up!"
Max remained silent while Calvin responded with an assenting grunt. The front door opened and shut, leaving the two of them alone.
Calvin tapped the side of his beer can, and finding it empty, rose to grab another from the fridge.
Aaand that's number five.
Max curled her legs to her chest, and dug her head between her legs. She listened to as Calvin walked past and out into the back yard, sliding the glass door shut behind him. A quick glance showed he had went out for a cigarette. Heart racing, Max decided it was time to take action. She could grab some things, some food, some water. Extra changes of clothes. She knew being homeless had its own set of dangers... but anything would be better than this. The certainty of what would happen if she did nothing.
Max returned to her room and threw her backpack on to her bed. On her way over, she grabbed some granola bars and water bottles from the kitchen. Calvin had left his wallet on the coffee table, so she relieved it of a few hundred bucks. All the was left now was to pack a few pairs of clothes. Max quivered at quiet thrill of excitement. This was something she'd thought about daily-hundreds of times. But she'd never gone this far. She'd never had the will. There was something different about today.
Distantly, Max heard knocking on the front door, followed by someone ringing the door bell.
Probably just some salesman. No thank you.
Max gave her backpack, now full with clothes, food, money, and other assorted items, a satisfied look. She was ready. Her future was now an uncertain, scary prospect. But it beat the horrible reality of staying in place. Of doing nothing.
Her cell phone, set to silent, started ringing from inside her backpack. Without a second thought she silenced it by gripping the sides. The only calls she got these days were from classmates. And they were always mean.
With a sigh, Max double checked that she had everything she needed. There would be no going back after this.
Time to cross this Rubicon. Good-bye Mom, Calvin. I won't miss you.
A light tapping on her window caused Max to very nearly leap out of her skin. She swirled around, and saw what she quickly recognized to be Chloe's face staring back at her from the other side of the glass. Max gasped, frozen, totally confused about why she would be here right now. Didn't Chloe hate her guts, by this point?
Chloe knocked a few more times, her face changing to an expression of slight annoyance. As if by impulse, Max moved to her window, released the lock, and raised it up.
With only air between them, Chloe quirked her head to the side.
"So, gonna let me in, or what?"
Max blinked, and promptly backed up a few steps, allowing Chloe to awkwardly shove herself through the small opening in the window. Once inside, she arched into full stretch, and took in her surroundings. Her eyes landed quickly on the backpack.
"Going somewhere?"
"No! I, uh, well..."
Max let her words linger, unsure of how to proceed. Chloe crossed her arms, taking a few exaggerated strides around the room.
"Sorry about the whole window thing," she started. "Not trying to creep on you or anything. But no one answered the door, and you didn't answer your phone."
Shit. Wow, of course. Good job, Max. But... what is she doing here? I thought the way we left things this morning was pretty final. Not that I'm complaining... I swear I've had a fantasy just like this before. Have I finally snapped?
"H-how did you even get here, Chloe," was all Max could think to ask.
"Uh, with my truck? You know, that thing with four wheels? Consumes gasoline, has an engine? Helped create the modern world?"
"You know what I mean, Chloe. I don't remember ever giving you my address here..."
"Oh. Yeah, uh, my Mom got it from yours, before you guys moved. Figured if I was going to be up in Seattle, I could, you know, if I had the time. Could like, drop in. Or whatever." Chloe looked away, clearly embarrassed about something.
She's had my address all this time? Okay...
Both girls fell silent again. Chloe cleared her throat nervously. "Listen, Max. About this morning. I just wanted to-I was pretty pissed, right at that moment. And I sort of unloaded on you."
Is she... is she apologizing? Does this mean... maybe she doesn't hate me?
Max couldn't prevent the thought to giving rise to a ridiculous fantasy. Of grabbing her backpack, hoping into Chloe's truck, and ditching Seattle, along with all it's pain and misery. The two of them laughing, apologizing, and re-establishing their bond.
"No, Chloe," Max replied. "I should be the one apologizing. It's-"
Max paled when she heard heavy steps approaching down the hallway, outside her room. Mercifully, her bedroom's door was shut. With a scrambled, hairbrained look, she grabbed Chloe by both arms.
"Listen, Chloe, you've gotta hide. He'll go crazy if he finds you here."
Chloe's expression narrowed, a dark cloud forming across her face. She allowed Max to push her towards the walk in closet, where she hid herself without further words.
Seconds later, Calvin burst into the room. Max, relieved that Chloe was safely hidden, couldn't help but notice gun strapped to her uncle's side.
"Maxine Caulfied, you little shit. Did you steal from me? My wallet had three hundred dollars in it, and it's gone."
Moments later, he saw the backpack on the bed.
"Going somewhere? Planning a little... trip?" He took a step towards the bed, but then stopped, turning to give Max a furious glare. Max remained frozen, her heart pounding, the steady thump of its increased tempo ringing in her ears.
Even while drunk, Calvin could move fast. Max didn't even notice him close the distance between them. Angrily, he placed a firm hand around her throat, lifting her up to her toes.
"Hey! Fucker!" Chloe shouted as she threw open the door to the closet and stepped out. She pointed an accusatory finger directly at Calvin.
Oh god. Oh no. Please, no.
"Get your hand off her, you fucking freak!"
For a moment Calvin was too startled by the sudden presence of this unknown girl in "his" house to react. But the moment passed, and without words he dropped Max, who collapsed to the floor, struggling for breath.
Chloe, however, wasn't done. With a balled fist, she threw a punch at Calvin, and landed a solid hit his cheek. Calvin barely seemed to notice.
"Who... who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my house? This is trespassing, you know. That's illegal. I'll arrest you, right here."
"Yeah? So is domestic fucking violence, you prick," Chloe shot back. She appeared nerved that her best punch had done nothing to affect the man, but she kept her composure. "Just wait until I report this shit. You're going to federal fuck-me-in-the-ass prison."
That gave Calvin a start. He narrowed his eyes, fingers twitching at his side. They settled on his weapon, forming a tight grip around the pistol. Chloe seemed to notice, for the first time, the gun, and took a step back, raising her hands in front of her.
"H-hey, listen, let's-", she managed to stammer.
Both girls jumped when Calvin cut Chloe off, his voice raised to a barking roar. "Intruder! Stop, or I'll shoot!"
Chloe gave Max, who remained paralyzed with fear, a confused expression.
"T-the hell, dude? I'm just standing r-right here," she stammered.
"I said stop!" Calvin ordered. Another second passed, and Calvin popped open the strap that secured the gun in its holster. He raised the weapon, and aimed it towards Chloe's chest.
"Whoa, hey, man, put that thing away," Chloe's earlier swagger had left completely. Max's heart broke as she heard the fear in Chloe's voice. "Seriously, this isn't fucking funny-"
As the gun went off, Max screamed, though no sound left her lips. Helplessly, she watched as Chloe plunged backward, as if slammed by an invisible force. A well of red began to form between her breasts.
Then the whole world began to scream: as if every aspect of reality cried out in protest. Time began to slow-like some phantom train conductor had slammed the breaks, leaving only Max free to witness the effects. Just when everything had reached a standstill, Max saw the bullet casing, which had only a second prior hit the carpet, leap back into the air. She gasped in awe as the scene played itself backwards, and the rush of it filled her head with an omnipresent noise, cancelling out all else. Reality became a whirlwind of motion, blurry shapes darting back and forth, until the pressure became too much, and Max gripped her head, screaming.
The pain lifted, and the noise vanished. Max released her hands from her head, and fell silent. She was in her room. Neither Chloe nor Calvin were present. Her backpack was on the bed, but lacked bulk her clothes had added.
What. The hell. Did I just... what? What just happened? Am I losing my mind? Is this what it's like to go crazy?
As if to answer her question, she heard a light rapping on the window behind her. When Max turned around, she gulped. Staring back at her was Chloe's face. Alive and well.
