Saturday
Suzy wasn't one to leave the clubroom unless absolutely necessary, meaning, barring classes and interviews, she was the journalism club's gatekeeper and defender, the proverbial judge and jury. That was why Dimitri had to wait to act until the weekend, when even Suzy wasn't hanging back- not for lack of trying, actually; she'd been kicked out of the school by an on-duty school deputy more than the school would probably admit. Next time meant suspension, and suspension for Suzy meant no weekly paper, not that anybody read it in the first place.
Dimitri ducked around the corner leading into the hallway, leaning forward to see where the lingering school deputy would head. He was an old man, not quite the age of the school nurse, but certainly getting there. He scratched at his bald head, unintentionally inching his working hat as far back as it could go without tipping off.
"Eh, coulda sworn I'd heard somethin'."
He readjusted the hat and turned to walk to the other end of the hall- away from the clubroom.
Dimitri turned the corner and padded over to the door, an ever-watchful eye following the officer down the hall as far as he could see him. He set one hand on the knob and turned it, sliding the door open one centimeter at a time. The lock on the door to their clubroom had broken somewhere in their sixth grade year and, courtesy of their inattentive club leader, was still yet to be fixed. It drove Suzy up the wall, and was also why she put her chore money up to pay for the lock on the filing cabinet- Dimitri's current obstacle.
He slid the door shut behind him.
"Let's see if I still remember how to do this…"
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the bobby pin he'd stashed away before he left the house. Suzy had taught him the ins and outs of lock picking at some point when he first joined, and though he'd paid attention, it wasn't like he went out and actively rummaged through people's things the way she expected him and Collin to. He would have looked for the key, but he knew Suzy too well- if she hadn't taken it home with her, she'd hidden it somewhere even he would never think to search. Picking the lock was the simplest solution- quickest, mostly painless, and effective.
He inched the bobby pin into the slot and went to work unlatching the chain.
Sorry about this, Suzy, but you started keeping secrets first.
There was a small snap, and the lock fell loose in his hands. Perfect. "Now to find out what you two were hiding from me."
The top drawer was usually empty, save for a few sticky notes with information Suzy was still convinced was relevant, like phone numbers and names with vague summaries below about why they should be covered. Some dulled pencils could usually be found rolling around in there, alongside some clippings from more legitimate newspapers, like The Mayview Times.
Sitting atop all of that were the papers he'd seen Suzy lock away. Dimitri ignored the CONFIDENTIAL stamp on the front and stripped the first page off the stack.
He read the first few sentences, then had to repeat them to himself again to be sure that's what he was actually seeing. Then again, and again. He read them until each word sank in, and the harsh reality of Suzy's latest scoop washed over him like an ice bath, like a tsunami of water so freezing it left him numb and paralyzed, standing there, holding reality in shaking hands.
The bathroom smelled like aftershave. The living room smelled like aftershave. Heck, the whole flipping house smelled like an Abercrombie and Fitch model came in and took a bath in a tub full of cologne! Max was practically gagging, and he knew even Zoe had to smell it from her room, and her door had been closed all day!
"I'm leaving to finally get all this extra hair trimmed off!" His dad paused at the stairs, raising a hand to fluff the ends of his hair. "Should I keep it a little longer, or go a little shorter?"
Max lingered by the dip in their family room floor, contemplating whether to sit on the couch or stand around until his dad left so he could get back to his bedroom quicker. He wasn't in the mood to watch TV, but his bedroom was even closer to the bathroom than the living room, and if the smell of "Blue Thunder" got any stronger, he was sure he'd asphyxiate. Max shrugged. "I wouldn't cut off too much. Can't have her thinking you're a well put-together business man, can you?" He was trying to get laughs, and usually that was something his dad might have chuckled at, but a quick glance in Dad's direction and he knew where his father's mind was.
He was staring past Max, down the hallway where Zoe's room was. Her door was locked and she hadn't answered anyone all day.
"She'll come around." His dad was focused on him again, looking startled; he'd probably interrupted a train of thought. Max turned away, looking to the floor, nearly hoping Pj would come fading in at any second and he could escape the awkward conversation- or at least push it to a later date, but Pj was somewhere else, wandering in the house in a room that Max wasn't in. Figured. The one time Max wanted him to pop out of nowhere and scare the pants off of him and he wasn't around to. "She's your kid, right? She'll get used to the idea eventually." That was the least mushy way he could figure to word it.
His dad crossed the room just to steal his cap and ruffle his hair. Max winced, but the familiar sensation of a smile was crawling across his lips. "I'll be home by eleven o'clock tonight, son. Be good!" He ducked out of the room before Max could even raise a hand to wave.
Meditation, though rewarding, was a trial all on its own. Instead of blank thoughts, Ed found his mind wandering to places that were dangerous, places that made him lose all concentration.
The way her hair hit his face on her way by.
The way she didn't acknowledge him- no look, no word, no wave- like he didn't even exist.
He toppled over. One of the other students cracked open an eye. He waved an apology and got back up on the slab of wood to begin again.
It was over. He'd lost her. Before he even had a chance to fix things, to fix himself, she was gone. He hadn't even tried to speak to her when he came home last night; he couldn't handle a repeat, couldn't handle her ignoring him again because if it happened twice it was real and he wasn't just imagining it. But he knew. She was replacing him, setting Max on the pedestal where he once stood, knocking his statue off and watching his bust shatter into thousands of jagged pieces. And why would she try to clean it all up? She'd only stab herself, and he wasn't worth the effort.
They weren't worth the effort.
He nearly fell off again, leaning too much weight on the front of his legs, but caught himself at the last second, straightening up.
He was almost jealous of Max, but the truth kept logic saddled on his mind; Max was the better friend for her. He wasn't some baby that ran away when she needed him, or some lazy coward who spent all his time messing around with video games instead of training to better himself as a man.
He fell backwards instead of forwards this time, bumping his head on the floor before the rest of him even hit the ground. Grunting, he got back up and tried again.
He was stupid! So, so, stupid!
And now she was gone, and all he could do was watch Max take his place, watch him be the better man… and it was already killing him.
Things would be better for her when he left. She could forget him entirely, and maybe he'd find a new best friend, too, though he already knew none would quite compare. She'd follow him around forever in his wimpy little heart, and it just hurt that he wouldn't be in hers.
He fell over again, and this time, something hard knocked him upside the head. "Ow!" A pair of slippers padded over to stand in front of him. "Hey, who did that?" His eyes trailed up the length of his foot before hitting the robe, and from there on, Ed already knew who he was looking at. He set his chin on the mat and gave his master his most pathetic pout.
Master Hashimoto frowned and looked from Ed to the thin wood he expected every student to balance on when meditating- something Ed still clearly wasn't the best at. "I am impressed you keep getting back up, child, but I am less impressed that you must keep trying. Why can you not concentrate?"
"Just..." Ed rubbed the back of his head where, what he was now sure was, Master Hashimoto's staff had left a small bruise. "I'm just tired is all." He forced himself to sit back up, moving to set his butt on the small plank of wood, thick and wide enough to stand on, hard to balance on- apparently. He presumed correct posture, crossing his legs and closing his eyes.
Hashimoto sighed, and was gone without so much as a drift in the air.
The clock hit 11:00 only seconds before Max heard his dad coming up the stairs. The first few steps were long between, like he'd been taking two steps at a time, and then the sounds of shoes against wood came faster, and he was coming up to the top in seconds. "Max! My son!"
He was sitting up from his place on the couch slowly, inching the bucket of popcorn off his lap (it'd been the only thing strong enough to cover up the smells of "Blue Thunder"). One hand reached over tentatively to pause the horror movie he'd been watching, heart beating a mile per minute.
It went horrible. It went terrible? She said she never wants to see me again?
His father opened his arms wide, then swung around on his heel with the widest grin he'd had in five years plastered on his face. Unlike the others, not that he hadn't been genuinely ecstatic to move back to his hometown, it was real and it reached his eyes and Max could feel it radiating sunshine in the dead of night from across the living room. "It went great! She was amazing!"
Max's hand froze before one finger ever set on the remote.
"... Oh?"
"She's got her own collection of Star Wars lightsabers- even one of the real models used in the first movie! How awesome is that?"
Max chuckled and raised one butter-covered hand to the back of his neck, wincing even when he tried to smile. "That's- that's great, dad."
His father started jumping up and down like a little kid, balled hands up to his chest, wide and toothy smile inching larger by the second. "And she was so beautiful! Blue hair, blue eyes! I could have sworn I was dating a mermaid!"
"Cool…"
"And you made the right call! She apparently" and here he reached a hand to twirl some strand of hair around his finger "loooves the men with some volume."
He was starting to feel sick. Every bit of his stomach that might have been peckish, every part that might have once wanted some of that popcorn- it was all disgusting. His insides churned, and he very nearly clapped a hand to his mouth to hold back the pound of vomit inching up his throat. It stung, and so did his eyes. The woman in the movie being brutally murdered, via axe-wielding serial killer, shrieked and wept, and Max chewed on the inside of his bottom lip.
He swallowed it all down. "Glad to hear it, Dad."
"It's all because of you, mine loinfruit!"
He didn't even have the energy to correct him, because it was a stupid joke and he didn't much feel like joking at all; in fact he wanted to throw a fit. He wanted to pick up his popcorn and throw it into his dad's face, because his mom's picture was sitting right there on the end table and how could he even think about another woman when her face was right there, right freaking there! It was wrong! It was demeaning! It was cruel and how could he say something like that about another woman?
Max slid off the couch and mumbled some excuse about being tired and not knowing how late it was, but the hour would be carved into his mind for a good while. He didn't even bother to shut the TV off; he was sure his dad would take it over when he went to his room.
He shut the door softly when he wanted to slam it, then rested against the wood and slid down until his rear hit the floor. He heard his dad start the movie over- he was in the clear.
Max rested his head against the door, then brought it up and slammed it back down four times, maybe five, trying to get the stinging in his eyes to go away. He wasn't some teary-eyed brat, he couldn't just cry over something so stupid!
He couldn't cry because his dad was happy…
He choked on air.
… even if it was with another woman.
He didn't want his dad to move on. He didn't want some stranger coming in, trying to be his mom, trying to play a part that never should have been open to begin with! He knew she made him happy, but that didn't mean she should! He tucked his knees to his chest and set his head against them, fingers clawing at the carpet on either side.
How am I supposed to even tell him?
