Max walked into her first class on Monday with her earbuds in. If nothing else, she was better rested than last week, having slept almost the entire day Sunday. Her nightmares had lessened since her trip with Mr. Jefferson to the cliff. She still woke covered in sweat and gasping, but it was a quieted panic now. One that she recovered from faster than before. She wasn't completely recovered by any means, but it was a noticeable difference. It gave her hope.

Approaching her desk, she noticed paper was on top of it. It was the Arcadia Bay Beacon. Blanching, Max looked around. Everyone in the classroom was silent, all watching her. Her stomach flipped. They were all waiting for her reaction. With deliberate steps, Max approached her table. She could see a large color photo on the front. It was a photo she had seen before. Pressing her lips together, she turned the newspaper around. Sure enough, Victoria's original "everyday heroes" picture took up half of the front page. Max sucked in a deep breath before looking at the article.

One Dead in Drunk Driving Accident

Arcadia Bay is known for its sleepy town atmosphere. With crime at an all-time low, most residents feel safe. That was all broken these last few weeks due to one Roger Buckham. Buckham, 49, had been a long-time resident of Arcadia Bay and a known regular to the area's bar scene. He gained recent notoriety when he nearly hit a Blackwell student, Max Caulfield. Luckily, her teacher, photographer Mark Jefferson, saved her from being struck. We are still investigating that story and hope to have more for you at a later date.

Unfortunately, this luck streak did not extend to Buckham. Buckham was involved in another incident this weekend, this one taking his life. According to police reports, Buckham was seen leaving one of the local watering holes around 2AM Saturday morning with an acquaintance. He got into his car, alone, and drove off. Six hours later, his car was found having struck a tree with Buckham inside. His blood alcohol level was reported as three times the legal limit.

Funeral services will be held this Thursday at noon.

*Picture provided by Blackwell Academy.

Max reread the final line. Despair and anger twined together, each vying for the top spot. All Max had wanted was to place this behind her. Now, it was going to be rehashed. What was worse was that her name was now attached as well for everyone to see. Gripping the newspaper, Max rose to her feet. She didn't even look at Victoria despite the fact that the girl was watching like a hawk. Instead, she strode out of the room and stalked down the stairs.

Frustration was starting to win out. Bursting into Mr. Jefferson's room, Max caused a far larger stir than she intended. Upon seeing Mr. Jefferson look up in alarm, Max felt her throat tighten. Her emotions were starting to bubble up despite herself. "Max, what're you-"

Max thrust the newspaper into his hands. Words weren't able to convey her emotions right now. Throat tight, Max watched for his reaction. Mr. Jefferson's eyes narrowed as they scanned the picture and the article. After they scanned the last line, Mr. Jefferson set his jaw.

"My office. Now," he stated, pushing her towards the door. Max staggered a few steps before catching herself. She hadn't expected the force behind his push, and she had forgotten just how strong he was. Walking out, she heard Mr. Jefferson continue, "I will be back. Use your smart phones wisely until then."

He closed his door after stepping outside. Without a word, he led her towards his office. Max had never been inside Mr. Jefferson's office before, as he usually wouldn't be found there. When she entered, she couldn't help but notice that it was larger than Principal Wells'. She glanced around. The walls were covered with either art or shelves of art books. Mr. Jefferson had a quotes calendar situated on his desk, facing outwards instead of in. Today's quote: "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." - Dr. Seuss

"Did the newspaper call you at all before this was printed?" Mr. Jefferson inquired, shutting his door. She could see by his posture that he was tense. Honestly, he seemed just about as frustrated as she felt.

"No. I found out this morning when that was left on my desk," she explained, her own voice softening. Her emotions were starting to fatigue.

Mr. Jefferson scowled. "Left on your desk? By whom?"

"I don't know. It was there when I walked in this morning," Max answered. Sitting down into a guest chair, she sank into it. It was also nicer than the ones in Principal Well's office. "I have my suspicions, though."

"Without evidence, suspicion means nothing," Mr. Jefferson remarked. He paced back and forth, his hands clenching. "If anyone from the newspaper contacts you, do not answer. Do not call them back. Silence cannot be quoted."

Max nodded as she watched Mr. Jefferson's movements. They seemed almost unnatural. But then again, she had never seen him this wound up before. "Do you think they'll reach out?"

"No doubt someone will reach out to you before long. Arcadia Bay is too quiet of a town for them not to. It would be quite the story. A teacher rescuing a student from almost certain death? It has everything a journalist could possibly ask for - a sympathetic victim, bravery, teacher-student dynamic, a positive ending. Made even more powerful with photographic evidence of the moment in question," Mr. Jefferson scoffed, his brow knitting.

Max watched how sharply he turned on his heels. He reminded her of a tiger stalking through the jungle. His eyes flickered back and forth, never lingering in one spot too long. Never looking at Max herself. Gently, she asked, "Do you think it was Victoria? As revenge for not accepting her photo into the contest?"

"Which I did as a favor to her. No, Miss Chase must have played a role, but I do not believe she was the mastermind," Mr. Jefferson responded. His voice was getting a bit louder now - a bit more heated by whatever thoughts were brewing in his mind. "No, there is only one person who gains by this becoming public news."

Principal Wells.

Letting out a sharp breath, Max felt the information sink into her mind. "How did he find out about the picture?"

"I'm afraid that was my fault," Mr. Jefferson confessed. He squeezed the bridge of his nose in exasperation, finally stopping. "There was recently a meeting about adding speed bumps to the road in front of the school. I used Miss Chase's photograph to drive the point home."

Staring at him, Max realized why he hadn't been able to look at her this whole time. He had unintentionally given the principal the final piece needed to go public. "I don't blame you, Mr. Jefferson," Max said, feeling an instinctual need to settle any doubts he might have. "It's not as though you yourself gave the picture to the Beacon."

"Still, I should have known better when Principal Wells asked where I got the photo from," Mr. Jefferson snarled. His anger wasn't directed at Max, but she still shuddered. Mr. Jefferson could certainly be very intimidating when he wanted to be. "He must have approached Victoria after the meeting. And unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about it being published. They received permission from Victoria Chase, who took it, and the principal of Blackwell, where it was taken."

Max sank into her chair upon hearing that. "So there's nothing we can do?" she whispered, hating this feeling of helplessness. All she had ever wanted was to leave this all behind her. And now it was out there for everyone to see.

"There is. I know they didn't get permission to print my name. If they didn't get permission to print yours either, we have a case," Mr. Jefferson said. He glanced at the clock in his room. "I'll contact my lawyer this evening to speak to him about it. I'm sure he will have more answers than I do. In the meantime, Max, keep what I said in mind. Don't give them any more fuel than what they have."

Pausing a moment, Max inquired, "Are you going to sue them?"

"Yes," Mr. Jefferson replied without hesitation. He looked directly at her, and she could see the anger burning."And he'll represent your interests as well."

That made Max's head spin a moment. "I'm not sure I can afford-"

"Don't be stupid, Max. On my dime," Mr. Jefferson cut in. Max was startled by his response. Noticing her expression, Mr. Jefferson knelt down to meet her eye-to-eye. His entire figure seemed to soften. To open. "Pardon my language. I'm just frustrated."

"Because they used your name to get more publicity?" Max breathed out. Her heart jumped about, fearful of his response.

Mr. Jefferson gauged her a moment, his eyes seeming to trace every feature of her face. "That is one of my reasons."

Max tried to quell her hope upon hearing that. Swallowing hard, she noticed his hands on the armrests of the chairs. Her own hands were on her bag. But he was so close to her that she could smell his cologne again. The cologne that had signaled her safety on the day of the incident. His eyes bore into her, a gentle affection remaining there. It was unmistakable. Perhaps she wasn't wrong? Maybe her suspicions had an inkling of truth to them?

There's only one way to know.

"And what's the other, Mr. Jefferson?" Max pushed. She felt bolder now, in the shelter of his office but security of the school. He was in front of her, not as her superior. And she ached to know the truth.

"Personal," Mr. Jefferson said, his voice containing a terse finality to it.

Max felt the wound cut deep into her heart at the implication of his words: "None of your business." Of course, she should never have let her heart swallow her logic. Her eyes burned, watering despite her willing them not to. No matter what, she wasn't that special. Without a word, she rose to her feet, causing Mr. Jefferson to look up in surprise.

"Thank you for your time," she murmured politely before walking towards the door. "Please let me know what is going to happen when you know."

"Max!" Mr. Jefferson called out in distress.

A tear silently rolled down Max's cheek as she turned the corner from his office. She refused to look behind her. Just as she reached the stairs, she felt someone grab her arm. The pull sparked a memory, which ignited when her face found his chest yet again. Then the hand settled in her hair. Jaw tense, Max willed herself to stop crying and her heart to settle down .

"Let me go," she weakly objected, trying to pull back. Her hands pressed firmly into his chest.

Mr. Jefferson's arms flexed as he kept her there. "Max, what do you want from me?" he hissed into her ear.

"Nothing," Max answered, keeping her head down.

"You're a better photographer than liar," Mr. Jefferson said. His chest reverberated with every word. "Tell me and I'll let you go."

"I-I just - I just wanted-"

A door opened. Immediately, Mr. Jefferson released Max, stepping back almost too far. Mr. Madsen stepped out of a room and looked over at them quizzically. Max could feel her cheeks starting to turn pink.

Saved by the door.

"We'll talk more about this later. I'm sorry that you're dealing with bullying," Mr. Jefferson said, ensuring it was loud enough for Mr. Madsen to hear. "Do not doubt that I will look into it."

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson," Max managed to croak before scrambling up the stairs. She didn't want to have to deal with Mr. Madsen. After everything that had transpired, she doubted she would be able to convince Mr. Madsen that nothing had happened. Not, at least, without giving away her disappointment in that fact.

Now, she just had to figure out how she was going to deal with being in his class. She knocked on the door to her World History class before stepping in. All eyes fell on her once more. Her teacher didn't even care to interrogate her. The newspaper on the desk told Max why. No doubt, the entire town would be buzzing with the news.

You really should call Chloe after school. No doubt she'll hear about this from Joyce.

The morning passed by relatively quickly, probably because Max was throwing herself into everything she possibly could. Her notes today were meticulous… and color-coded. A few doodles dotted the pages, but those were simply distractions during the passing period.

Finally, lunch hit. Max sought out Warren. If anyone could keep her distracted, it was certainly him. She found him at his locker, putting away his books from this morning. "Hey, Warren," Max greeted. "Would you like to eat lunch together?"

"I never thought I would see the day. Max Caulfield asking me to lunch. I'm flattered," Warren jested before slamming his locker shut. "Where would you like to sit today?"

Max answered, "Anywhere that gets me out of here a while."

"Yeah, I feel you there," Warren said. "Mrs. Grant totally reamed me today for not using proper scientific precautions for my experiment. I've never been chewed out so bad by a teacher before."

"She takes her safety really seriously," Max concurred, remembering when Mrs. Grant had been frustrated with another student for not wearing his goggles properly. She talked for almost ten minutes after the period ended. By the time Max got to the cafeteria, it had almost been picked clean.

Heading towards the entrance, Warren replied, "Yeah. I mean, I get that it's important. It's just that I feel like sometimes she's too - you know?"

"Yeah," Max said, actually understanding what he meant. Mrs. Grant certainly had come off as overbearing. But then again, that was probably because she was usually so mild-mannered. Seeing her come undone was jolting, if nothing else. "I think it just means she cares."

A sharp pain assaulted her shoulder. Max gasped, stumbling backwards. "Watch where you're going," a sneering voice announced. Victoria. She stood in front of Max with her hands on her hips, as if waiting for an apology.

She's going to be waiting a long time.

Brushing herself off, Max turned and started towards the cafeteria again. Warren silently followed, keeping one eye behind them as they walked. Obviously, he felt just as comfortable about the situation as she did. No way that they were just going to be able to leave this encounter. Not if she knew Victoria at all.

"Hey!" Victoria yelled. And there it was. Victoria was trailing after them. "Where did you run off to this morning?"

Max knew what Victoria was really asking: "What did you say to Mr. Jefferson?" But she wasn't going to give her the pleasure.

"I went to ask about the article posted in the paper," she vaguely responded. Max gave her a strained smile. She needed to make sure Victoria didn't gain any leverage. "How is it going, by the way? I only worry because you have… two weeks left, I believe?"

"Go fuck your selfie, Max," Victoria snarled. But Max had seen it - a small flash of fear in her eyes. So she hadn't made any progress with Mr. Jefferson then. Victoria then stormed into the school, no doubt on her way to intercept Mr. Jefferson. If he was lucky, he would already be gone.

"What was that about?" Warren inquired, watching Victoria with the same amount of apprehension one would a tornado.

Max had almost forgotten Warren was there. "I don't know. I was just trying to be nice."

"I don't know why you waste your kindness on her," Warren said, his usually cheerful voice lowering to a somber tone. "She doesn't deserve it. She's only nasty to everyone she knows."

"She's nice to Nathan Prescott," Max pointed out.

"Probably because his family owns Arcadia Bay," Warren said.

Bitterness doesn't suit him.

Max nodded towards the cafeteria. "Come on. Before they run out of food."

"Race ya!" Warren exclaimed before sprinting.

"No fair!" Max shouted, gripping her bag. She chased after him, unable to go her full speed with the luggage that she was carrying. "You got a head start!"

"Sounds like someone's just making excuses for being so slo-" With that, Warren ran right into the cafeteria door. He fell onto his butt in an almost comical way.

If Max hadn't been more concerned for his well-being, she would have laughed. "Whoa, Warren, you alright?" Max asked, stopping in front of him.

Rubbing his head, Warren replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. Got a head made of granite. That's what my mom always says."

"Then get up, granite head," Max said before offering him her hand.

Warren grasped it but didn't use her as leverage, instead rising to his feet on his own. As soon as he stood, she let go. Warren, however, didn't. "Max," he said, his voice turning tender.

Max knew that tone of voice. She had heard a couple of people have it before. Usually, it was the voice she heard before a terrible first date ruined the friendship. Forcefully, Max pulled her hand from his grip. "I need something to nosh on," she said before pushing open the door. "Try to keep up, slowpoke!"

"Max!" Warren called out. However, Max ignored him.

I'm such a coward.

Max hated that part of her. No matter what, she never wanted to risk anything important to her. And Warren was important to her. He had been the first friend she made at Blackwell - the first person who really made her feel like she belonged. For that, she would always try to be there for him. Just not as his girlfriend. And there was the rub.

Why couldn't he just be into Brooke? They would be really cute together.

Max took her time figuring out what she wanted to eat for lunch. Warren left her alone as she did so. By the time they reunited, Max hoped Warren would reconsider telling her. She really didn't want things to become awkward for them. And from her experience, teenagers didn't exactly do well with rejection.

Maybe that's how Mr. Jefferson feels about you.

An upsetting thought that Max quickly dismissed. She didn't need to spend any more time today thinking about him. Approaching Warren, she offered him a small smile. Warren's wide grin relieved her. As soon as she walked over, he was back to talking about their newest science experiment. Max listened attentively as Warren got his nerd on. It seemed they would be okay for today. And that's all Max could really ask for.