Chloe: meet me at two whales diner after class and the little warren thing you talked about

Chloe: lovebirds

October 10th

Today's dream was… almost nothing. Just someone falling? Don't get what it meant but there wasn't much else to it. Better than the crazy vivid dreams from yesterday.

Speaking of dreams, I'm over the moon right now, Emma. Not as much as I thought but still am. Basically at like, fucking Pluto right now. I don't even know how it happened. On the drive to the cliff with Warren, I didn't feel anything. Just two friends going to hang out. But as soon as we got to the Lighthouse, it started to blanket me. When we came back I really thought I'd wake up today and totally regret it because I was so into the moment like a drunk hook-up. But I don't. Not so far at least. Gotta try new things, right?

We went for some shitty school breakfast before the first bell rang and then hung out after our last classes to plan the party. Turns out he's gonna be somewhere around two hours late because of some tests he has to retake. Luckily the party starts I think… five for the early birds and at least until nine since that's when the contest winners get announced. So he should be here by then. Is it bad that I don't care? Geez, that sounds super mean. More like, is it bad that it doesn't really matter that he's gonna be late? It's not like we didn't just hang out for a bit at Lanel Cafe. Don't know how this whole dating shit works, to be honest. Maybe Chloe can fill me in when we get to her house.

Also turns out Kate is not going. I asked her today during photography and she said she'd rather be in her dorm sleeping. You know, I would too, but there's a raving punk dragging me into this. And after everything that happened to her, it's for the best.

What do I wear? Don't have a dress but don't think I need one. Would be weird to go in a suit that my dad accidentally packed.

Chloe has to have something, even if she's kind of tall compared to me. If that doesn't happen, then probably the patented grey jacket and blue jeans look that everyone knows me by.

Speak of the devil look who's here. Later Emma.

Chloe—dressed in a grey beanie, hoodie, and sweats—barges through the door and immediately spots me sitting in the corner booth closest to the jukebox playing some country. She sits down across from me, facing the Lighthouse through a window. "Dude, you gotta spill the beans." Her arms lay spread out on the red booth cushions. "Who liked who first? Do you fall asleep at night thinking about him? Is he a good ki-"

I shake my head as if to throw the blush off of my cheeks. "I already did last night over text. Also, where's Joyce?"

She rolls her eyes while looking back at the open kitchen-filled chefs running back and before between stoves, sinks, and the waiters. "Took the day off."

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah. Just kinda rolled her ankle down the stairs. Or well, the last step. And since everybody is probably coming here before, during, and after the party, that would've been hella moving around for her. How did your little hangout go with Warren?" she says with a smug look.

It's not gonna stop, is it? "Uh, we hung out at Lanel Cafe. Got super annoying though since Trevor and Dana were there so we couldn't do anything."

"Oh shit, are they dating?"

"Maybe? We just said hey and left."

"Well, don't be surprised if you see Trev and War plotting."

A waiter walks by us with a to-go box before coming back, the smell of bacon drifting around. "You ordered the take out of large bacon, correct?"

I nod and take the box as he nods back before doing a little jog into the kitchen area. "This is for that drive thing. And also for that whole five years of me turning into Casper." Handing the box over to her side, she opens it up with a smile building on her cheeks.

"Holy shit, dude. You definitely won the Everyday Heroes Contest in my book." Chloe snatches the box like a gremlin and stands up. "Let's get out of here. You are not going to the party in that Seattle ass outfit," she says while tugging at my hoodie drawstring.

We go outside into the warm air, clouds swiveling overhead with a strong ocean scent barrelling from behind Two Whales. A scan across the parking lot shows no sign of her beat-up truck. "Where's your car?"

A gruff sigh escapes her as she jaywalks straight across the street with me reluctantly following. "Apparently,' she says with one air quote, "the auto shop said my truck is really fucked up. The alienator-"

"I think it's an alternator, Chloe."

She stops for a moment to give a glare of annoyance before continuing towards the big main road leading a hill up to Blackwell. "Anyways, whatever that thing does, I think power or something, it's about to die basically. So , that's a couple… hundred… dollars. I'm hella lucky that my mom is cool about everything that happened so she kept a little bank account open for me for emergencies and shit. A.k.a, weed and food and stuff and music and food. Speaking of weed, you know that little brat Nathan?" She points the box of bacon at me.

"Mhm." At this point, I'm super lost like you are. For a moment, her voice gets drowned out by a flock of seagulls culling overhead and landing on a brick building. The view of them sitting up there in a group of ten gives me some sort of goosebumps, like in Seattle when me and my friends would hang out on a birthday or just go out for the fun of it. Shame I didn't bring my camera with me.

"-so the next day, Mr. Trustfund baby over here decides to give me some fucking oregano! Can you believe that shit? Forty dollars just gone down the drain-"

You know that Charlie Brown cartoon? How whenever his folks would talk to him, it'd sound like wah-wah-wah ? Yeah. That's exactly how it sounds right now. It's weird, though. Chlo is never this talkative. Usually, she'd call me out for being quiet or just shut up after a few sentences but geez, man. She's really going far with this rant.

Unless.

I put a hand on her shoulder to stop us from walking and look into her eyes. Blue irises jumble around before focusing on me, the slightest tinge of red surrounding them. "Are you seriously high right now?"

Chloe gives an awkward toothy grin. "Not seriously high. More like, decently. Kind of." A pause. "It was just a half joint, Officer Max," she says while opening the box of bacon to take a slice. "I'll be fine at the party."

"What about Joyce?"

Her eyes turn into pinpoints. "Oh… shit." She looks up ahead the street, the Price house at the end of our block in all of its purple… purpleness. Even from here, I can see Joyce's signature crossed arms and head shake whenever we would get in trouble, accompanied by some southern phrase. "It's not that noticeable, dude."

I shake my head. "It's really obvious, especially when you basically live with her. Does she know you smoke?"

"Um, no. Rachel had to save my ass a couple of times before. Just occupy her, please? She'll be hella happy to see you again, anyways. I told her that you'd come over but kinda forgot to ask you."

We continue onwards to the Price house, the front door staring at me. Everything looks the same on the outside, at least. Feels like I just time-traveled back to 2007 with jean shorts, trench coats, and Hey There Delilah on repeat on the little radio William used to have. What I would give just to have those years back when we didn't have a care in the world apart from school, parents, and each other.

Chloe jingles a pair of keys into the doorknob and pushes inward, the stairs up to the second floor still covered in that greyish carpet stained with years of dropped drinks. "Hey, mom! I have your second favorite pirate here!" She tugs me inside and closes the door. "Remember the plan, stan," she whispers.

"Max!" Joyce's southern accent pops out from the kitchen to the left of the hallway, sizzles and a bit of steam reaching us. There's a click of a stove turning off, and out she comes in pajamas. "It's so good to see you again, Maxine. And you still look the same as you did with your freckles."

"You too, Joyce. N-not the freckles, but good to see you again. Chloe said you hurt your ankle?" I look at the aforementioned totally not sober punk as she drops the box off on a counter and gives the stove a peek, almost salivating into whatever is being cooked.

Joyce laughs before turning towards the stairs. "It's nothing bad, just gave me a bruise and a hit on my pride but other than that, I'm just fine. Think the house might be telling me something. You want some chicken I'm cooking up? Little old though, but since y'all are going to that party, I figured I might as well finish it off." She waves me into the kitchen and lightly taps Chloe out of the way.

It's just chicken if you wanted some weird purple prose of succulent chicken. Also doesn't look very good since it's just browned a little, which is rare to say about her cooking. "No thanks, Joyce. We'll just look for something to eat after."

"I find it funny how before, you would never go to a party. Always with your camera." Joyce stirs the pan for a second before giving a side-eye. "How is your photography going? Anything you're working on?"

"My teachers are announcing the winner of some contest at the party. I don't think I'm going to win, but the winner gets to represent Blackwell in San Francisco.'

A sigh escapes her with a smirk. "What I would give to go to San Francisco again. Take some pictures for me there, will ya?"

Chloe tugs on my sweater's arm, making me look back. And holy shit is her eyes bloodshot red. "Me and Max are gonna head up to my lair and plan the outfits."

"Is your girlfriend picking you guys up?"

Wait what? Girlfriend? Chloe? I look at Chloe, and she looks at Joyce while pulling me into the hallway. "I think so, see ya…" she trails off as we go upstairs.

Soft carpeted steps change to hardwood as we turn into her room on the right. The smell of ash makes my nose crinkle when she closes the door, a poster of some rock concert near the top. Matter of fact, the whole room is filled with posters even on the slanted ceiling since her room is part of their roof. Boxes of magazines cover the floor and stick out from beneath an unmade bed. "Jesus, do you not clean your room?" I step over to sit on the bed and make sure to kick what I'm pretty sure is a singular Lego brick into the hanger stuffed closet. Goal-lasso, or whatever soccer commentators say.

Chloe stops to look at the mess before sitting down next to me as if her room doesn't look like the aftermath of when we blew up her doll. "I mean, it was hella worse a year ago."

"How could it be worse than this?"

A finger juts towards a box of magazines. "Those were covering the floor. My floor was a sea of paper, and I was the captain."

"Also," I say while sitting criss-cross and turning towards her, "what was that whole thing about your girlfriend?"

There's a moment of rare silence from her. She leans forward and puts her elbows on her knees. "That… yeah. That. I was gonna tell you at the party with Rachel there, but might as well spill the beans now. I'm like, half gay."

"Half gay?"

"Yeah. I like dudes and girls." Her face turns flush with a half attempted smile as she looks at me.

"So bisexual, then."

"Half gay sounds better. Also, uh, Rachel is my girlfriend."

Detective Max. You have cracked the case. Also, that is cute as hell, but not at all what I expected. But she always had something to say about just everyone, guy or girl, nice or mean. And, also was super complimentary of me. More than what was usual. "How long have you guys been dating?"

"Three years. Four? You can ask her when she gets here."

"Wowzers. No offense, but I figured you'd forever be a one-and-done type of person."

"I was after dad. Then she came along to keep me in place when I was pissed at everything. Blaming everyone for a death I took the wrong way." Chloe's voice is soothing, a contrast from the bright and overactive one from before as she scoots towards me. "I know it's sappy as fuck but Rachel made me look at the world differently. There was more to this than drugs and boys. There was my mom, everyone at Blackwell that I barely even know anymore, and even though there were a bunch of unsent letters, there was you. After Adolf Madsen left, she told me to come out to mom. I did, and she started to talk more to me. Whether it was whatever I did that day or whatever me and Rachel were planning, she just talked to me. A little later and I did the same. Whatever daily asshole got his food slightly overcooked, or memories from you, me, and dad about what we talked about at dinner." She laughs and wipes her cheek. "Fuck dude, I got myself crying like a kid again."

High Chloe is clearly best for late-night talks. At least this one is. "You two are literally opposites. That'd be like us dating."

A chirp of a bird fills the deafening silence. "Uh, slow down there, Maxi. Think you forgot about the whole me and Rachel thing. Is Warren gonna be there?"

That's certainly a moment that's coming back to haunt me months down the line. "Hopefully."

"Aw, Max said hopefully for her boyfriend."

I jab her in the side with my elbow. "He has a test to retake, so probably an hour after we get there."

"Color me not surprised at all. He's all about those grades. Actually… give me a second." Chloe bends over to reach for a box, tossing almost everything to the side. She pulls out a grey packet and places it in my hands. "Wrap it before you tap it, girl."

I flip it over from the back, a slimy and rubbery ring inside the plastic torturing my fingertips. 'Trojan Ultra Thin.' "Chloe!" Throwing it back towards her, I give a face of scrunched disgust. "We've been dating for not even a day!"

"Look, dude. You really do not know when shit is gonna go down. Or when he does. Or when you-" A grin builds as she continues with the teasing before getting interrupted.

"Chloe Price!" Not a chance my cheeks aren't rosy right now. "Do I really look like I would do that?"

"It's been five years since I last saw you. Who knows?"

My phone vibrates, and so does hers. I open up the notification.

4:57

Dad: I just heard you and Joyce just met. How are they doing over there?

Max: Pretty good. I'm at her place right now getting ready for a school thing.

Dad: I also heard about that party. Look, you're 18 now. I went to a ton of parties your age and even younger. Just be careful, alright? Try not to drink more than you can handle.

Max: Are u really encouraging underage drinking

Dad: Well, who's to say I can stop you? Don't tell your mother I said that. If I remember correctly, Chloe went to a lot of parties. I'd say to follow her and if anything gets weird, make sure to tell her and Joyce will pick you guys up.

Max: Yeah she looks like she went to a lot of parties.

Dad: Also your mother and I do NOT want news of being grandparents.

Max: RYAN CAULFIELD

Dad: Have fun Maxine haha

Max: Thanks though, maxoxo

Chloe puts her phone down and shuffles towards the closet. "Rach is on the way." She slides the wooden blinds to the side and grabs a handful of crumpled clothes to toss them next to me. "Pick your poison."

Picking up one shows the logo of Hawt Dawg Man himself, all covered in musty crinkles and a weird moistness that makes me drop it. Not wearing a Hawt Dawg Man shirt to the party, especially an unwashed one from super long ago. Another shirt has the sides cut off but also is surprisingly clean and smells like old cherry perfume.

"You should wear that one. Warren would definitely love that one," she says with a smirk while rummaging through a pile of clothes on the floor.

I pluck it from my pile, letting it flow down to my knees. "Me wearing this is like you wearing that one," I say while pointing at the Hawt Dawg Man shirt.

A box is kicked to the side as she takes the cutoff shirt and stands me up. "Come on. First party, first boyfriend, might as well just do it. You can just wear your generic brand sweater over it." I can tell Chloe sees the blush building on my face as she takes a step back, hands-on-hips. "Take chances, dude! I double-dog dare you!"

A flash of hazel blinds me, and something plants itself against my lips, soft like skin. It follows wherever my head turns but not for long. Pulling away forces the world to come back with tinges of blue and red around the edges of Chloe's room, a cold air running through. Except now, we're standing up next to the closet and there's a look of playful shock on her face. Her lips move with barely anything audible comes out as a ringing silence joins in. My hand moves to scratch at my chest, and even though I can feel rough cloth, everything else feels numbed. But… nothing is telling me to freak out or yelp. It's weirdly comforting, like when doctors stuff you full with anesthetic, and just before you pass out, there's maybe five seconds of euphoria where your head is just floating through empty space.

Chloe's mouth moves again, words finally come out. "Damn. You're hardcore, Max! Now I can text Warren and tell him he doesn't stand a chance… unless he's into girl-on-girl action."

Woah what? Before I can respond, another flash blinds me, this time filled with spirals, dots of purple, and a tight pressure banding around my head and behind my eyes like the worst hangover in the history of hangovers.

"Hey, Earth to Max? Did you smoke some of my weed behind my back? You look like you're gonna freak," Chloe says with her hands at my shoulders.

I shake my head before focusing on her. "Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out." Not wrong, right? Two times now. And the dreams. Guess it must be the Indian stuff Ms. Grant talks about anytime Blackwell's construction gets brought up.

"Is my mere presence really that strong? Also, are you taking the shirt or not because there's another one here that Rachel left, and I think you might like it.

"When isn't it?" I say with a chuckle. "And fuck it. Why not?"

"That's the spirit! You," she pushes a finger into my chest, "are getting fucked up with us."

Usually, that would mean someone's getting their ass kicked. But for today, that means this is the last hour I remember before the inevitable blackout. Hopefully won't have to do a speech while potentially and extremely cross-faded. But of course, first time for everything, Max.