Hi.

Here's Chapter 11.

Enjoy, my little Munckins.

Uhhhh, ignore that I said that. That was weird.

This one's a little short, but I hope you still like it :)

Highlight of the day: Today I started to make a smoothie, but then halfway through I realized that I didn't have any milk to put in it. So I used Five Alive juice instead; they're practically, the same thing, right? :P

"Hey, Max."

I turn to face whoever has disturbed my peace because it's about time people learned not to bother me.

Tyler Hemmingway smiles nervously. "Sorry if I startled you or something."

The air rushes out of my lungs like lightning because he is so close to me, about one yard apart right now and the last time I stood this close to him was on the night of the incident. I've seen him around the halls and everything, but up close he looks much worse than he has from afar. He's ridiculously skinny and his face looks a little shallow. Dark circles surround his eyes from sleepless nights, and his hair is wiry and thinned. He looks like he's come back from the dead.

He might as well have.

I swallow down hard and force a smile; I hope it looks vaguely sincere. "I heard you were back."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess my parents got tired of having me at home, so they sent me back here to this hellhole. Clearly they love me too much," his expression matches his sarcastic tone, but then his smile wavers and he shakes a bit as he lowers his voice. "So how have you been?"

I glance behind me to make sure no one is eavesdropping on this conversation, but no one is around us and the hall is almost empty. "I'm surviving, for now."

Tyler holds my gaze. "I'm trying, but it's a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, you know?"

I'm just staring at him and his hollow face and pale skin and how he's such a complete mess right now, and it's horrible. How could Tyler fall from being healthy and attractive to what he is now? He looks like a walking skeleton. I don't think I can look at him for much longer, and I can feel my stomach starting to shift. I want to tell him so badly, but I can't.

He seems to notice something's wrong, and he awkwardly wraps his arms around me in a hug. I can feel his ribcage pressing into me as his wiry arms in case me, and all oh my God, I think I'm going to be sick.

I start to snap my fingers.

Let me go, let me go, let me go, Tyler.

He releases me from his grip. I heave in a breath as I can feel my pulse returning back to normal and I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. I don't know what to say with him, but I do know that I can't handle being around him much longer.

He seems to recognize this. "You know, being back here is difficult. It just emphasizes everything, seeing everyone's faces, but she's not here anymore. It's just hard."

And he leaves me there.

Yes, it is hard. Oh Tyler, you don't even know.

I straighten up and fuss over my clothes until I feel calm again. I look back into my locker only to meet my small, magnetic mirror face to face. Tyler looks like a disaster and I look just as good as I did before, maybe even better; not broken at all. I fucking hate mirrors.

I pull it off the locker door and throw it, face down, to the bottom of my locker.

Mirrors are suck fucking liars.

Page Break

"So you were hanging out with your best friend's boyfriend behind her back."

It's not a question or an accusation, it's simply a statement.

I keep my face stoic as I slouch back into my seat. I pull the sleeves of my sweatshirt down to cover my hands as I think of how I'm supposed to respond to this. For some reason, I use the truth. "I don't know why, but we just were comfortable around each other. It was simple; we were friends."

Dr. Wyatt raises a sceptical eyebrow. "It's funny; nothing about that situation seems simple at all."

Page Break

Nick's house is familiar to me by now; although I'm not sure whether this is something to be proud of or ashamed of.

I decide it's a little bit of both.

I gaze out the window facing the backyard and just stare at everything out there: the barbecue, the wooden picnic table in the back corner which is covered in paint stains from when me and Nudge used to finger paint. The tool shed is on the right side and the green paint is peeling off the side of it, but what really catches my attention is the swimming pool. There is nothing really special about it; it is simply a kidney shaped in-ground pool with a dark blue liner. Nudge and I used to swim together and play on the deck when we were younger: countless games of 'Marco Polo', splash wars, and fighting over inflatable toys. At least, until I almost drowned.

My mom wasn't too keen on letting me swim much after that.

"You okay?"

I turn towards Nick, and I contemplate faking a smile at him, but then I realize that it doesn't matter if I do because it's Nick, and he understands. I don't need to pretend with him.

"I'll be fine," is my answer as I move away from the window. "Are your parents around? I haven't heard them or anything."

He shakes his head softly, his long-ish hair shifting with the movement. "They're away on some sort of business thing."

I smirk at him. "Way to care about the whereabouts of your 'rents."

"They're hard to keep up with."

He doesn't say anything else about it, but there's just a weight in his voice that tells me everything not everything isn't just 'peachy'. I don't press it though, because I know if he wants to tell me, he will.

The couch in Nick's house isn't small, yet somehow we end up pressed against each other as we watch re-runs of The Simpsons. My mind is half focused on the television and the other half is far, far away. I glance over at Nick from the corner of my eye. I still find it amazing that we have come so far from where we used to be at the beginning of the year. I'm awestruck by how close we've gotten over the past few weeks and how easy it is for me to be with him, how much I trust him.

I know Lissa is supposed to be my best friend and all, but sometimes I feel like I can't tell her anything because she wouldn't understand it. Or other times, if I'm feeling sad Lissa wants to cheer me up by talking about my problems, except I don't want to talk about my feelings. I hate emotions; strangely Nick and I seem to have that in common. We don't pry into each other's lives about things that we don't want to talk about.

I glance back over at him, only to catch him looking back at me. I don't know why, but I'm instantly compelled to look away and blush.

Something must be terribly wrong with me. Maybe I'm sick and it's causing me to act like an idiot.

And later after the television has been turned off and we're just sitting in the dark of the room together, all I can think is that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. I sigh lying back and stretching my body out across the couch. "Sometimes I wish could back out of life and take a break. Does that make any sense?"

Nick nods slowly, flicking my foot which is resting on his lap. "Oddly enough, it does. I get that."

"I mean," I continue, staring at the ceiling, "and sometimes I just feel like no one understands me."

I can fell Nick shifting in his spot. "It's as if you act like someone else just because who you really are won't ever be accepted by anyone. I know what that's like."

And then we fall into this silence, and I close my eyes because I feel at peace for the first time in a while. Nothing is on my mind, and the sensation is kind of beautiful in a eerie way. I can hear the vent system and the sound of the dishwasher going, that slight humming noise, and it's all so relaxing. Like nothing is going on in the world and time has taken a break.

It isn't until about twenty minutes later that Nick speaks. "I make playlists."

That breaks me out of my trance and my eyes snap open. "What?"

"Musical playlists, like on iTunes sometimes," he explains as he looks at me with no expression on his face. Except I can see the softness of his eyes, and the way his fingers are dancing anxiously in his lap and I know that he's not exactly comfortable with saying this out loud. "They just make me calm and stuff. I make playlists for important things in my life, just look for songs that I feel describe what is going on and how I feel as soon as I can't express it in words."

For a few moments I don't say anything because I'm confused as to why he's telling me this and what point he's trying to get at.

He seems to realize this. "I don't think anyone else would understand that. I've never told Lissa or Jeff or anyone because they would probably just think I'm messed up or something."

I see his jaw tighten, and his eyes narrow a bit. I know what it's like for people to think you're messed up, and I know it well. I sit up and rest my head on his shoulder. "Everyone is messed up a bit. Some more than others, but they're still a bit messed up. Don't worry about it."

And we let silence take its place again.

I leave his house at 11:57, but before I go I stop to say, "I won't tell."

He half-smiles at me.

When I drive home, I have a sudden moment of panic when I can't feel the necklace and I clutch my neck to make sure it's still there weighing down on me: it is. The thing that bothers me the most though is that I hadn't really felt it, felt the weight of it while I was at Nick's house; it was as if I was free of it for a few hours and it leaves me feeling uneasy. My stomach fills with dread.

You're being ridiculous, Max. You'll always feel it. Every day for the rest of your life.

I can't get distracted now, because I'm already halfway to where I want to be, and no one is going to disrupt that. I need to remember what I'm supposed to be doing, what I'm supposed to be paying for. My burden.

For the next two days I can't eat a thing.

Page Break

"Your mother was concerned that you had an eating disorder."

Dr. Wyatt peers at me. I try not to roll my eyes. "I didn't have an eating disorder."

She flips open her little 'Max' folder and goes through page after page until she finds one she is satisfied with. "Valencia said that she was worried that popularity and peer pressure might have been making you feel insecure about your body."

I can't help it, I laugh sardonically; because in a twisted way, this is kind of funny. "I did not have an eating disorder."

She gives me a look.

I shrug. "I wasn't purposely starving myself; I wanted to eat, I just couldn't."

Page Break

I stare at the plate in front of me, and it looks delicious. Steaming, but not too hot, the spaghetti and meatballs look absolutely perfect in any way food could: perfectly coloured sauce, meatballs being nearly 100% spheres, and evenly spread out spaghetti. And I want to eat it so badly.

I just can't.

Every time I pick up the fork and prepare to stab a meatball, or pick up some pasta, my body freezes up; something in my body just won't let me eat it. I can't explain why, but for some unknown reason I'm not able to eat the damn food.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Are you okay, Max?"

Mom's eyes are practically drowning with concern, and normally I'd snap at her and say I was fine and that she needed to stop worrying about me so much, but today I feel too pathetic. So instead I just shake my head slowly. "May I be excused?"

I close my bedroom door behind me and lie down on my bed. This is the sixth meal I've missed in a row, and my stomach is rebelling in against itself. I feel that hollow ache as I lie there in pain, hungry beyond belief, and yet not willing to go back downstairs to the perfect plate of food—I don't want to look at something I can't have.

I think I'd rather be dead than feel like this.

My stomach is curling, crying out for food and I want to scream, yell, punch something; anything to make it all go away.

And in the midst of the pain I can't help but think: maybe this is exactly what I've wanted: to be in pain.

To finally get what I deserve.

I lie awake for hours hoping my stomach would eat itself and then the rest of my body until I eventually disappeared in this bed and everyone would wonder where I went, but I'd just be gone.

Page break

"You couldn't eat?"

"It's a simple concept; my body wouldn't let me eat. I would just stare at the food, but I wouldn't be able to force myself to eat it."

"You scared the shit out of your mom and sister."

"I know; but it wasn't my fault. It's not like I could control it."

Page Break

"Why are you here, Max?"

I'm practically caught red-handed. Nudge is looking up at me with big, confused eyes. I swallow my nerves and fake a smile. "Nick and I are working together on a project for Functions."

In my head, I'm praying to God that I sound believable.

Maybe God listens, because a big smile encompasses Nudge's face. "Okay. I'm just heading over to Michelle's house for a sleepover with some of the other girls from school. Ella's going to it too; did Ella tell you about it? Never mind, she probably didn't because she says that she's been doing homework all day and hasn't had much time to do anything, so I highly doubt that she would've had the time to tell you about it. Michelle says that she's heating up the hot tub, so I'm totally pumped for that because apparently they did some stuff on it and it looks a lot nicer now. And then we're going to watch movies and stuff. Doesn't that sound like so much fun?"

I think the term "verbal abuse" needs to be redefined. "That sounds like so much fun. I hope you enjoy yourself while I'm stuck doing math."

She laughs, and I smile for real; Nudge's constant happiness is just infectious. Like swine flu. Nudge hugs me. "I guess I'll see you around, Max."

I nod as I watch her disappear into the garage, and I stand still until I hear the sound of the car leaving. After I'm certain that she's gone, I head down the hallway and down the stairs into the basement.

"What took you so long?"

Nick peers at me from where he lies on his bed.

"Well, I had a run in with Nudge. I told her all about the project we were working on for Functions class," I say, half-annoyed. "Next time, could you please warn me if other people are going to be in the house?"

He smirks playfully. "I didn't realize she was still here; it won't happen again."

I go and flop down next to him on the grey bedspread and the entire mattress shakes. "Well I guess I can forgive you this time...maybe."

"You'll forgive me," he says in that cocky voice I used to hate so much.

Now I just really, really, really don't like it.

I scowl. "Nope."

He rolls over to look at me. "Yes you will."

"No, I won't."

"If you won't forgive me, I'll make you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

And then he attacks me. Tickle attacks me. It was only about half a second before I burst into laughter. I struggle against him and squirm, but the second he finds my weak spot—the most ticklish part of my body, right between my ribcage and hip bones on both sides—he's won. I'm laughing so hard, I can't breathe and I have no control over it.

"Are you going to forgive me now?"

Nick has an unbearably smug look on his face as he continues to tickle me.

I'm squirming like crazy, and Nick is holding down my arms and legs so that I can't kick or hit him. "No."

"Okay."

Then he tickles me even more. My laughs are on the verge of being hysterical, and I'm gasping for air; I don't know how much longer I can take this. "Stop it!"

Nick smirks slowly. "So I'm forgiven?"

I manage a snarky, "No!"

"Well I guess I can't stop then."

And he continues at it and I seriously think I'm going to die if I don't get air soon, so I manage a gasped, "Fine, I forgive you."

"Are you sure?"

He always has to push it, doesn't he? I squirm. "Yes!"

Nick finally lets me go and I lie on the bed, catching my breath. When I finally get my breathing back to normal I stand up and walk away.

"You look like you're about to kill someone," he says calmly, like this is an average, everyday statement.

I turn and glare at him. "Yes, I might kill someone. Guess who?"

I finally get to the bathroom and I turn on the lights, and my jaw drops immediately. "Shit my hair!"

I can hear Nick snickering from the bed. "Wow max, I never took you as the kind of girl who was obsessed with her looks."

I glare at him accusingly. "I look like I just had sex!"

It's true though. My hair is mussed incredibly, and my clothes are bunched up and crumpled; everything looks very suspect. I try to flatten it out, while Nick materialized behind me in the mirror and tries to hold back laughter.

I narrow my eyes at him in the mirror. "Shut. Up."

And then something weird happens.

He reaches his fingers up to my mangled hair, smoothing out some tangles with a slow, delicate hand. I feel myself freeze up and shivers run down my spine. "What are you doing?"

I turn to look at him directly instead of using the mirror. It's only then that I recognize just how close we are. My mouth opens to say something, but no words come to me. And I always have a sarcastic comment to say.

Except right now my voice fails me.

Fuck you, vocal chords.

His hand reaches up to brush my damn sex hair out of my face as he whispers, "You aren't half as bad as I thought you were."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" It's meant to sound snarky, but it comes out too softly and sounds kind of lame.

Instead of answering (because he's rude like that), he kisses me, suddenly. I feel my eyes widen in shock for a second before all of my sense gets drowned out by kissing.

Worst of all, I can't help but compare the way Nick kisses to Jeff. Jeff is much more hesitant and careful, while Nick is confident and overpowering. Jeff asks permission while Nick just takes charge and does what he wants.

And I think I might like it.

One of his hands curls into a fist around my hair while the other travels down my side and settles at my waist. My fingers are tangled in his soft, dark hair as he presses our bodies even closer together. He pushes me back until I hit the bathroom wall, kissing me so fiercely I can't describe it. My head is spinning and I'm getting dizzy, but I can't figure out why.

Oh, right. Air.

He breaks away from me and we are both panting like we've just run a race or something.

That's a bad similie, but my brain isn't back to being 100% functional yet. Making out will do that to you.

When we've caught our breath, we just sort of stare at each other because my stupid brain finally processes what just happened; Nick and I just made out. Like, seriously made out. And we were both sober.

What. The. Fuck.

Nick's eyes have some unknown emotion in them as we gaze at each other as if we're in a trance. I snap myself out of it as my eyes travel down to his lips, which are slightly swollen and red from kissing and I can't believe that I did that. My eyes meet his again, and I don't even know what to feel because all of my emotions are swirling in a strange sort of cyclone inside me and I don't know how to handle it.

But then I do. Nick and I say it simultaneously. "I won't tell."

And he kisses me again.

Page break

"So attic bedroom with Dylan, huh? You better use protection. Wouldn't want you kids to have a perfect blonde little baby who was good at everything and super smart."

I punch JJ, despite the fact that she's driving and may very well kill us both in a fiery, bloody car crash. "Shut up! I don't make fun of you and Tyler like this."

JJ rolls her eyes. "That's because Tyler and I don't have very much to make fun of. I mean, we aren't robots sent from the future where everyone is perfect so that present day humans feel inferior."

I punch her again. "There are lots of things to make fun of you guys for!"

"Like what?" she scoffs.

I grin evilly. "Like how incredibly cliché you guys are, and how he calls you his 'jellybean' and you call him 'Ty bear' and you act like an old, married couple. Gross. And you're just so...cutesy."

As if to emphasize my point, I gesture towards the sticky note on the dashboard that says:

Hi my little jellybean, I hope you're having a great day. You look gorgeous.

Tyler had written that and stuck it in her car, which is mushy enough on its own, but it's even worse since JJ has kept the note for the past month (yes, I know—it's disturbingly adorable).

JJ blushes instantly, but she manages to keep her cool about it. "Yeah, whatever Max. You're so totally jealous of us and our nicknames and our cute little notes. Deep down, you're green with envy."

"Whatever you say," I let it slide as I roll down the truck window and let the breeze hit my face since there's no air conditioning in this "old shit-box from pre-historic times" (JJ's words, not mine).

JJ's playful glow disappears a few seconds later and I can see the concern painting itself on her little farmer-girl face. "So have you told anyone about the panic attacks yet?"

Page break

Breathe; one, two, three. Breathe; one, two, three. Breathe; one, two, three.

I lift my head to catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I look terrible, but I guess that's a good thing; my outside appearance finally looks the same way as my inside does: fucking disgusting. Inner beauty? Bullshit.

I collapse to the floor, focusing on my breathing which is progressively slowing and regaining its rhythm. I snap my fingers: Breathe; one, two, three.

Everything is out of control, and I'm not supposed to let that happen. It's my job to keep things steady—it has always been my job—and now it's all threatening to fall over on me.

You can do this, Max. You owe it to her at the very least.

I can't forget it all, and all I can do is move forward. I know what I want; it's just that sometimes I get a little distracted. But I'm back on course, I promise. I'm going to see The Plan through. I don't know how I've gotten so soft, since last year I was able to manage all of this and more.

I can do it.

With shaky legs I stand up and straighten out my clothes. I'm not messing up this time because people can only make so many mistakes, and I've made enough mistakes to last a lifetime. No more messing up, it's time to get things right.

I'll get things right this time.

No more getting side tracked, no more procrastinating. I can't let myself get away with all of the things I've done.

I'll make it up to you.

Because that's what you deserve, and that's what I deserve.

I promise, Jen.

And maybe I can finally fix things.

I won't stop until things are right.

Page break

Thursdays suck.

They're just so taunting; you're so close to the end of the week, but you still have one more day to go. It's even worse when you mistake a Thursday for a Friday, and you're all excited until your alarm clock goes off at precisely 7:21 AM and you realize you're stuck in hell for one more day.

But this Thursday sucks even more than normal Thursdays because it's raining, meaning that instead of eating outside we're confined to being in the school cafeteria. It always smells like stale French fries and slight B.O. in here, and there aren't nearly enough tables to accommodate the entire school population so everyone is crammed together at tables although there's no way all the students can really fit.

I'm sitting next to Nick and Lissa and Jeff are facing us from across the table. Lissa is telling us some story about how some kid kept saying 'orgasm' during an oral presentation in her Biology class today and no one stopped to tell him until the end. I pretend to be interested, but I can't really concentrate on anything because Nick's hand is on my leg underneath the table and it's kind of (extremely) distracting.

He slides his hand up the inside of my thigh and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from hitting Nick. Could he have worse timing? He brushes back the edge of my plaid skirt, and I'm totally cursing the school for enforcing uniforms. And cursing him as well, of course.

I sneakily elbow him in the ribs. Fuck off.

His ribcage shakes slightly, as if he's laughing or something; maybe containing his laughter, and I want to punch him because this isn't fucking funny. His hand slides up higher and my hands curl around the hem of my shirt.

Fuck off you fucking moron, before I fucking stab you with my piece-of-shit plastic cafeteria knife, you dumb son of a—

"What do you think, Max? God is she deaf? I've fucking had to ask four times."

I cough nervously. "Sorry, I zoned out for a second. What did you say?"

I can practically feel Nick's invisible smirk, but I know for a fact that his face is stoic and I refuse to look at him right now. So instead I look of the other side of the table.

I feel Jeff's foot nudge mine underneath the table, and I look up to see his eyes going over me once. He sends me a small smile.

Seven? He mouths when Nick and Lissa aren't paying attention and I force myself to nod at him. Because I still need to pass stupid Bio and Physics to graduate. So 7:00 it is.

I inwardly groan.

I glance between Lissa, Nick, and Jeff, and how much the dynamics of our little group have changed so much since the beginning of the year. And how I'm in the middle of it all.

Look at how you've fucked things up, Max.

When the warning bell goes off five minutes before classes start back Jeff sends a wink at me and Nick gives my thigh one last squeeze before we all get out of our seats and disperse and I'm finally alone while I make my way towards my next class.

What a mess I've made.

I'm a little shaky on this one, so please review? It really does help.

Question of the day (I missed the last one, so I'll do two this time):

1. Who's your favourite Maximum ride character? Mine's Iggy. I'll love him forever (L)

2. What's your favourite movie(s)? I'd have to go with "Mulan", "Mean Girls", and "How to Save A Life". If you haven't seen any of these, I highly recommend them.

Until next time!

Meows