"First of all, I'd like to apologize," Mrs. Newton said from the front of the classroom. "There was a bit of a typo in one of the problems, so it didn't have any answer."
Tension was in the air as papers were passed back. None of the other students seemed to notice it, perhaps it was only in the air around Max, some kind of localized cloud that she breathed in as she waited to see the verdict. Her spot in the back of the classroom had ensured that every single person in front of her would see her grade, a fact she realized too late to change seats.
Truth be told, her anxiety wasn't only about her grades. Her back left molar was hurting enough to wake her up once or twice, and she'd finally watched the next episode of Doctor Who last night, against her better judgment. The preview should have been enough to dissuade her, really. Rose had made the same mistake Max had two months ago, and paid the same price, just with daemon bats instead of a tornado. One more thing to have nightmares about. Forcing herself to finish the episode just to prove she could had been an especially bad idea.
Bet I'm the only person in the world who needs a trigger warning for time travel, she thought ruefully as her paper finally arrived.
The ink at the top of the paper stared at Max, and she stared right back.
"85% B. Much Better!"
"If you'll take a look at number twelve on the second page? Yeah, I got a sign wrong, there are no real roots. Sorry." Papers shuffled, but Max was still staring at her grade. "I marked it wrong on a few tests before someone-who's apparently been reading ahead in the book-caught it. I think I went back and fixed them all, please let me know if I missed yours."
Problem 12. Is that the one I... she finally turned the page to confirm it. "Good Catch! +1" Mrs. Newton's red pen had scrawled next to her attempt to use the quadratic formula, which had ended in a square root of a negative number. Math rube or not, she'd at least absorbed that that was a Bad Thing. Which was going to make today's lesson hurt her brain even more than usual.
"Now, this next unit is going to cover imaginary numbers..."
Max spent photography the same way she always had lately: Not Looking at Victoria Chase. Max had been thinking about her more and more since getting back from break, and she'd almost managed to convince herself that it was because of their shared supernatural troubles.
"Now don't forget, when you're using a fill flash with ambient light you have to make sure you get the color temperature right. If you don't your photo will look like this."
The simplest technique was to actually try and focus on the lessons. It made Mrs. Cameron think Max was her most attentive student, and as a bonus she even learned something every once in a while. That was the easy part.
The harder part was not looking like she wasn't looking at Victoria Chase. That could draw more attention than staring, and more attention was exactly what she didn't want. People might get the wrong idea. Or worse, the right one. Either would be a disaster on so many levels, starting with the fact that Vic would probably never give her the time of day again, let alone a refill for the dwindling supply in her stereo speaker. And then good luck getting more out of her about visions or nightmares. Or helping her not slit her femoral, if that was still a thing that could happen.
"The flashes you'll be working with, like most, are daylight temperature. I'm going to suggest you just work in full daylight rather than try to adjust, but if your vision demands twilight or tungsten balance just get in touch with me and I can provide gels."
In truth she was probably being paranoid. She still sat in the back of the classroom, behind the monitor, as inconspicuous as ever. And really, nobody ever looked in her direction. Except Victoria Chase.
Why won't she just admit what she saw?
Victoria sat alone in her usual seat; her purse sat alone in front of her on the table. She was like the antithesis of Max. Perfectly coordinated wardrobe, perfectly manicured nails, and a purse that cost as much as Max's new laptop. Max on the other hand... well she showered most mornings, and at the moment she wasn't resorting to the sniff test to pick her outfit, but that was the best that could be said. If she was being honest, she couldn't even use the crippling depression and trauma as an excuse; she'd hardly been much better back in Seattle.
Aside from the obvious reasons. Like it's insane. Like it shakes our understanding of reality to the core.
But there Victoria sat, looking quite unshaken.
"I'd like to see at least... oh, fifty shots of your subject, ten from each camera angle, but with different flash placement for each shot. And don't just show me the good ones; I want to see your failures as well as your successes."
Guess I'll have to borrow a few flashes from the school stock. And a camera. Max was pretty sure Polaroid didn't even make a camera with a hot shoe, and she didn't have $150 to spend on film either. Unlike Victoria, who didn't even blink at the assignment. She probably had all this stuff and more just lying around her dorm room.
Is she actually okay with it all? Or in denial? Maybe she's just really good at pretending...
All signs so far pointed to the latter. Her poise never slipped, but lately she'd been even quieter than Max in class. She answered a question earlier and the entire class stared at her like she'd grown a third nose. Except Max. Max was Not Looking at Victoria Chase.
She's still taking photos though. Good stuff, even.
"I wanted to congratulate Miss Chase for her second-place finish in the Oregon Tourism Commission's 'Oregon is Alive!' contest."
Another contest that Max hadn't even entered. Victoria smiled graciously on the outside, only the clenching of her fist hinted she was fuming inside at not getting first. She was getting turned down by galleries a lot lately too, and she'd been complaining loudly about that to anyone who would listen. But she was still sending her portfolio out.
Why can't I do that?
Max had escaped conversation about her half-assed half-project with Mrs. Cameron yesterday, and today's class was right before lunch. No way she'd try and keep me here afterwards. Not after I 'fainted' the other day and blamed it on being hungry.
"Now before you all leave for lunch I'd like to pass on this opportunity. The Simms Gallery in New York is running a contest for seniors, and entries are due before Christmas."
What the fuck am I supposed to do for that? Truthfully, in three weeks she could do plenty. But she wouldn't.
"The theme of this contest is 'New Beginnings'. The winner gets a $500 scholarship and a trip to New York City."
Shouldn't they try that in April or something when stuff's growing? Not that she'd've done that anyways; it'd be way too obvious.
"The last contest got a disappointing total of two submissions from Blackwell. I expect everyone in this class to enter this time, and it's going to count for a grade." She looked pointedly toward the corner of the room.
Max responded by glowering, then sinking lower in her chair until the monitor blocked her from view. Is that some lame attempt at art therapy again? Not gonna fucking happen.
She pushed away the part of herself that knew that Mrs. Cameron didn't choose the contest topic, and doubled down on bitterness. Whatever the teacher was saying now didn't even register.
The instant the bell rang she escaped the classroom walking quickly, her face buried in her phone to dissuade anyone who wanted to talk. She pushed her way past a still-perfectly-poised Victoria, nearly running into her, and even rushed past Kate, who looked like she wouldn't have minded a chat.
She stopped halfway down the hall, and gave a cheerfully-decorated locker an undeserved punch. Moments later the hallway was flooded with students and she caught herself, pushing her feelings back inside. When did I turn into such a miserable asshole?
The answer to that was pretty easy; it started with a vision of a tornado and ended, well... Look at all of them. Running around in their perfect fucking worlds like it actually means something. Feelings like that came every so often. Should've let the tornado raze the whole fucking town. They usually passed just as quickly.
Victoria rounded the corner; she caught Max's glare full in the face and recoiled a little before they both averted their eyes. Victoria continued on her way, ostensibly on to her own perfect little world, but Max knew better.
