Disclaimer: Too bad for me, I don't own Dark Angel, Edward Hopper, and any other brand names mentioned in this fic. I do own Heather, Sara, Lauren, and Mrs. Woodman, Michael, and Mr. P, Ryan Banks, Megan Smith, Sandrine, Mr. Brookson, the timid girl, Mr. Finch, Ms. McClintock, Jack, Tessa, the lonely man, the mailman, and Aaron.
Time Frame: Total AU, 2005. No Pulse, no Manticore, no virus, no breeding cult psychos! Yay!
Author's Note: I'm soooooooooooooooooo sorry this had taken so long to get up! Summer session's evil! Pure evil! This is a longer chapter, which I'm hoping will make up for the fact that I've been AWOL for the last month...
Thanks for the reviews!: ob, Firmament, natters, Jayme(I'm not gonna type all your names, again), dada, Dark Phanton, Gozar, mackensie karls, beth, dleep, eilien, Lanna Jne, anony, Cuthien, RubyStar(What's your favorite tree?), Mitika (you rock, girl!), MLFan, and newcomers opalglacier and sandy! You guys are so awesome!
Six - Close, But No Cigar
Max sat happily and quietly in her room, knitting a long scarf. Classical music filled the air, replacing the usual teen angst she drowned herself in. But her music wasn't the only thing that had changed; her whole room had changed as well. The floors and shelves were pristine with a "The Donna Reed Show" air to them. She herself was clad in drab, meticulously ironed clothing from the show's era.
Suddenly, Nicole walked into her room with a steaming casserole dish in her hands. "Maxie, could you be a dear and get the mail for me?" she asked cheerfully. "I would ask your father, but he's too busy smoking his pipe."
"Of course, Mother!" Max responded just as joyfully. "I'd love to!"
Nicole smiled proudly, her heart swelling with pride. "That's my baby girl."
With that, Nicole turned on her heel and carried the casserole dish back to the kitchen. As soon as her mother had left, Max skipped happily to the mailbox. She slowly opened it, hoping that a Sears catalog would be there. Sadly, she was only faced with the empty metal entrails of the box.
"Afternoon, miss," a voice called out behind her.
Max turned to see Logan dressed in a postal service uniform, hat and all, holding her mail. He held up a Sears catalog. "Were you looking for this?" he asked.
Max bolted upright on her bed, her heart beating wildly.
"What the hell was that?"
She looked around her to see homework scattered randomly on the floor and the sun shining brightly into her room. 'I guess I must have fallen asleep while working on my homework...'
"Finally! You've returned from Dream Theater!" Heather walked into Max's room and sat next to her. "How was it? You dream about being stuck in Pretty in Pink Land again?"
Max shook her head and took a deep breath.
"You okay, hun?" Heather rubbed her back. "You look like you just saw Zack making out with Aunt Kendra."
Max shook her head again, not paying attention to Heather's joke.
"Okay, moving on." Max could feel something in her lap. "Got your mail for you; it just came a while ago. The new guy's a lot faster than the old guy. This one's cuter too."
Without thinking, Max bolted downstairs and out of the front door, hope and adrenaline pumping through her veins.
"Max!" Heather yelled after her, still sitting on Max's bed.
Max ran into the street and looked around hastily for the mailman. Her eyes scanned the street until she saw the blue bag and hat turn the corner.
"Wait!" Max yelled, breaking into a run. The mailman kept walking, totally oblivious to the world around him. "Stop!"
Her bare feet pounded against the rough, warm concrete as she flew down the street to catch up with the man. Her curiosity was killing her. Max could feel him slipping out of her reach, causing her feet to move faster. When she was finally in arm's length of him, she grabbed his shoulder, causing him to turn.
Suddenly, the vision of a chiseled face with blue eyes and glasses wearing that uniform disappeared. In its place was the sight of a thirty-year-old man sporting a soul patch.
"Oh, sorry," she said, her heart sinking. "I thought you were our regular mail guy."
The man smiled and took off his hat, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "It's all right, miss. Bill's on vacation this week, but he'll be back before you know it."
Putting his hat back on, the younger man turned and continued his route.
Max closed the front door to her house and turned the lock. Why did you run after him? It wasn't like it could've been Logan anyway. Stupid. Heather's head appeared from the edge of the balcony from the second level. Why did I even get my hopes up? Hope is for losers, remember? Logan's gone. I'm never gonna see him again.
"Max, why the heck did you do that?" Heather pressed, worry overruling her.
"Muscle spasm," Max quipped, walking towards the kitchen.
Heather moved away from the banister and walked down the back stairs that lead to the kitchen.
"I doubt that. So do you want to tell me the real reason why you went stalker on the mail guy?"
Max hopped on the counter and bit into an apple. "No," she mumbled, her mouth full of apple.
Heather opened the pantry, grabbed a box of Cheez-Its, and hopped up on the counter next to Max. "Why not?"
"Because the sun's gonna blow up one day, the damn birds are singing, and because Bush was our President for two years. Good enough reason?" Max spat sarcastically, taking another bite of her apple.
"Not really. The sun'll blow up in a couple billion years, and I'm sure it'll take more than one day," Heather said, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, babe. You can tell me."
"Just leave me alone." Max pushed herself off of the counter and headed back to her room, leaving her sister sitting on the counter, shocked and hurt.
After about twenty minutes of sulking, Max trudged up to Heather's door. Max didn't know why she was doing this; she was still in a bad mood and she knew, as did Heather, that Max could say or do anything that she would regret while moody. My period better not be coming, she thought to herself, knowing that her "special friend" always made things even worse.
But Max knew that she had to apologize to Heather, bitchy or not. Max knew that her words had cut her sister deeply. Heather was the most loveable and loving in the family; it wasn't easy to hurt her, so when someone did, it was pretty bad. Max knew that this was one of those times.
She stared at the white door that separated her from her sister. Before she could stop herself, her knuckles started to knock on the door. She stood there for a while, waiting for Heather to open the door, but it remained closed. Max knocked again, this time putting her ear against the door.
"Damnit!"
Max could hear Miles Davis blaring in Heather's room. This only meant one thing: Heather was pissed. The hardcore Miles Davis album was only pulled out after catastrophic events: her break up with Jack (her boyfriend of six months), when her best friend Tessa moved to San Francisco, and those few big fights that she had had with the parental units.
"Heather?" Max spoke into the door, hoping her voice would carry over the trumpets. She knocked on the door again, this time slamming her fist into the wooden door. "Heather! Open the door!" Max was about to knock again, but the door flew open.
"Whaddya want?" Heather snapped, her voice on edge.
Max fidgeted with her jeans and looked down at her bare feet. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I was a complete psycho," she said quietly. "Can ya forgive me?" Max looked up at her sister, hoping that Heather would forgive her.
Heather looked off in space for a moment, and then at Max. She nodded. "Yeah, I guess I can forgive you." A smile slid on her face. "This time around."
Max smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. All was good, for now. "Can we talk?" Max said sheepishly. "I've got a lot to talk about."
Heather sidestepped and held her arm out in an "after you" fashion.
"...and then you walked in with the mail. You know the rest after that," Max concluded, getting her dream out in the open.
"Hmm..." Heather wrote on her steno pad. "I can't imagine Logan in a postal worker outfit," she commented.
Max laughed. "Neither can I." She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. "So what do you think it means?"
"Besides the fact that you have a thing for the men in blue?" Heather quipped, dodging a pillow being thrown in her direction. "Well, I think the 'Donna Reed' backdrop was just to get your attention. It really represented the unfamiliarity in your life, since we both know that we do not live in the fifties, thank God." Max nodded. "I'm thinking that Logan carrying the catalog means that he's bringing you happiness, since the catalog's what you want. Logan being your mailman may mean that he's closer than you think."
Max looked at Heather confused. "Like, distance wise?"
"Maybe."
Silence lulled over the two: Max deeply reveling over the fact that this could be a sign and Heather reevaluating the dream. Talking about Logan reminded Heather of something.
"Oh, by the way." Heather got off the couch and grabbed Max's laptop off her desk. "I looked over this for you. Manda did too."
Max had forgotten about her paper and suddenly felt dread clam the pit of her stomach. "So how bad was it?" she said, preparing for the worst.
"Not that bad," Heather replied, obviously lying.
"It sucked," Max groaned, burying her face in a pillow. "I'm gonna die."
Heather plopped back down on the couch. "No you're not! You just need some help making it sound... ya know, better. I think you should call Manda."
Max moved her chin so her face was no longer in the pillow. "Do you think she can help?"
"I know she can," Heather stated firmly, trying to make Max feel better. "Here's her number." Heather handed Max a slip of paper.
"Thanks," Max said, jamming it in her pocket. "So why do you think it was bad?"
"Well, it sounds childish, forced, and extremely immature. You get sidetracked all the time, and you loose your train of thought. The sentences just don't flow and there are a couple of grammatical errors."
"Wow," Max said to herself, "When you said no sugarcoating, you meant no sugarcoating." Max plopped on her bed, shocked at what Manda had said. "Was there at least one itty bitty good thing about it? Like the fact that it's mostly grammatically correct?" Max could hear papers ruffling.
"Lemme see... Oh!" Manda said, causing Max to sigh a little sigh of relief that it wasn't a total lost cause. "I loved the hospital imagery; how you described the room. Very nice."
"Is that all?" Max could barely make out, a pit crawling in the bottom of her stomach.
"Hmm. I like the Rugrats thing, but it doesn't really fit in with what you have."
"But that was my piece de resistance!" Max protested.
"It doesn't fit," Manda said, "I think you're going to have to take it out."
Max groaned and lay down on her bed. "What the hell am I going to do then?"
"You really don't want to write this, do you?"
"I hate it," Max grumbled.
"Well..." Manda trailed off, trying to think of something else. "Do you have any other prompts you can choose from, or are you stuck with this one?"
"Mr. P gave us three."
"What are they?"
"Goals, life, summer vacation," Max recited drably, knowing the evil prompts by heart.
"Oh," Manda said optimistically. "Can't you do the summer one? Los Angeles is a pretty exciting place."
Max tensed at the question. "Uh..." Max tried to think of something to say. "It's not something I want to relive."
"Okay," Manda drawled skeptically, sensing the touchiness in Max's voice. "Well, I guess that means you're left with the goals prompt."
"I guess so," Max sighed. "Thanks for your help, Manda."
"Anytime. Oh, Max? Do me a favor?"
"Hm?"
"Let Heather and me read it before you turn it in?"
Max smiled. "Sure."
"Alright, class. Before I go back to more pressing matters,"
"What, like reading the sports section?" Max muttered under her breath.
"I'd like to extend a chance for me to teach you less this year," Mr. Patrekki said, leaning his back against the edge of his desk. "One of the other teachers has kindly offered to look over any rough drafts that you may have. She owed me some favors."
Max shook her head. Such a slacker, she thought.
"So, if you have anything that resembles writing or something that will be turned in on Friday, pass it up. You can get them back after school, don't worry. But now, I need to see who won the PGA tournament over the weekend."
Max pulled out her goals paper that she had worked on all last night. Sure, some parts were a little lame, but overall, Max thought it was a pretty good paper. She passed it up with another girl's paper. Didn't Heather and Manda want to read it? Max shrugged to herself. Oh well, it's going bye-bye.
After Mr. Patrekki finished getting all the papers, he muttered to the class to "work on whatever" and returned to his newspaper.
Max sighed contently. She had done it; she had turned the paper in and she had said nothing about Logan. Even though it was one of her goals to find him and tell him how much she loved him, she decided to leave that out of her paper. But it wasn't like she had lied on her paper, she included the fact that she wanted to get a motorcycle license and drive a Ninja, that she wanted a really high class rank, and that she was going to go to sit on top of the Seattle Space Needle one day.
She had sounded like such a regular person when she reread her paper. From reading it, it looked as if she had no pressing problems, no "Summer Lovin' ", and that everything was hunky dory, peachy keen or whatever. She almost sounded like a normal teenager; just trying to get through high school. In the minds' of everyone else, she was just another lowly, unattached freshman who didn't need anyone to make her happy. Yup, she didn't need anyone to lead a perfectly fine life.
"Relationships. We all need them to live a happy and fulfilling life. It may be a close companionship, a tight circle of friends, or the love that two people share towards each other. No matter what the case, we all need them. Today we'll be concentrating more on the last one: the strong love that two people share for each other," Ms. McClintock stated, causing some sighs of contentment and some of annoyance to appear.
Oh, damn.
Max hated Health, but this made Max hate the subject even more. You can do this, she told herself You know that you don't need some guy to make you happy; you've got your friends and the small portion of your family that won't stab you in the back!
"The divorce rate is getting higher and higher in the United States each year. And do you know why that is?" Ms. McClintock asked the class.
"More fights on Jerry Springer?" a boy offered, making the class laugh.
Ms. McClintock shook her head and laughed with the rest of the class. "That's not exactly what I had in mind, Jack. Anyone else?"
A timid looking girl with owlish glasses raised her hand slowly. Ms. McClintock shook her head to let the girl speak. "Poor communication?" her soft voice carried from the back of the classroom.
"Yes," Ms. McClintock triumphantly, pointing in her direction. "There are lots of reasons why people divorce, but the one that tops the list is poor communication. If you can't tell your boyfriend that you need your space, why marry him? If honesty isn't even a policy in the relationship, marriage is not the next logical step." Ms. McClintock walked around the room, tossing a little hackey sack in her hand. "Successful marriages all depend on the communication process being used to its full effect..."
Leaning her head against the wall, Max let Ms. McClintock's words fly in and out of her head. Max didn't want to hear anything about relationships and successful marriages; she had her full of relationships. Even with Logan lost, she thought of what it would be like if they met again when they were older and got married. Max knew it sounded extremely childish and oh so "Look at me! I'm Joanie and I'm gonna, like, marry my high school sweetheart and have 2.5 kids and a mini-van!", but she didn't care. It made her smile.
She could see the two of them, older and smarter, sitting on their soft sofa in front of a warm fire as snow fell outside their cozy, little cabin in Big Bear. Logan would have his arm wrapped around her shoulder and Max's arms would be wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his chest. They would be spending their first real vacation away from the demanding beck and call of Los Angeles where Logan would be a writer, tired from his second major book tour, and Max would be a columnist, reporting the vibrant LA life to its people. Logan would look down at her and kiss her on the forehead, smiling at her as she twisted her wedding band around with her thumb. Her life would be so good...
A book fell off of someone's desk with a loud slam, causing her dreams of snow and Logan to come to an abrupt end. She straightened in her seat, deciding to pay attention to Ms. McClintock's lesson. This time, anyway.
"There are a lot of things that make marriages work and last a long time. There will be four components of what makes a good marriage on your final exam and on your upcoming test, so I would write these down if I were you."
Ruffling papers and the sounds of pages ripping out of the backs of spirals filled the silence as most struggled to find paper. Max followed suit and rummaged through her backpack, searching for her spiral. She came up empty. I guess I'll hafta write it on my hand, she thought to herself, uncapping her pen and bringing it to her hand. Just then, she left a finger poke her shoulder blade, causing her to turn around.
"Here," a boy with sparkling blue eyes said to her. "It's my last piece."
He has Logan's eyes... Max took the paper and forced a smile. "Thanks."
The boy smiled. "My pleasure."
"Alrighty." Ms. McClintock sat on a barstool. "The first component in having a good marriage is being able to agree on vital issues in the marriage, like who pays the bills, who brings the bacon home..."
"Sweet or spicy?" Logan asked her, turning in his chair to face her.
"What?" Max was confused by the random question.
The two were sitting in a movie theater watching the ads go by before the previews.
"Which do you prefer? Something sweet, or something a little spicy?" He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, making Max laugh.
She pulled a box of Hot Tamales and a bag of all cherry Starburst from her purse and set them in her lap.
"Both."
Logan nodded. "Same."
"Window or aisle?" Max said, popping a Hot Tamale in her mouth.
"Aisle," Logan said, taking one of her cherry Starbursts. "That way I don't have to-"
"- climb over people," the two finished, causing both to laugh.
"Warm or cold weather?"
"Cool," Max replied."You?"
"Same," he said, eyes shining as the theatre dimmed to show the previews.
She leaned over and whispered, "It's good to know we that agree on the more important things."
Logan chuckled and kissed her on the forehead. "The very important things."
"...Second is having similar interests. That way, the whole marriage won't be spent bashing heads over where to go or what dining room set to buy. Now let me tell you a story..."
The sea was gently waving goodbye to the shore and Max and Logan walked on the boardwalk over looking the beach. The sand crunched under their shoes and a sea breeze ran its fingers through Max's curly hair and toyed with the bottom of her blue dress. Logan wrapped a hand around her waist as they moved towards the railing at the end of the boardwalk.
"Cold?" he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.
"I'm good," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
Logan looked out over the boardwalk at the ocean. Remnants of the day's events stayed: an abandoned towel, a small, red shovel sticking out of the ground, but the life that had possessed the beach had left. Only one person walked among the sands of the beach now. The lonely man slowly ambled near the tide, braving the cold water. His clothes were disheveled and worn and his features portrayed that of a heartbroken shell of a man.
"If only Edward Hopper were here," Logan whispered to himself, remembering the loneliness Hopper had painted.
"Yeah," Max said, her eyes on the broken man. "He'd have a ball with this guy."
Logan stared at her, surprised by her comment. "I didn't know you were into art?"
Max looked at Logan and smiled. "You never asked."
"It's best when couples have a somewhat of a similar family background. If they're raised the same way or under the same kind of morals, it's easier to understand and sympathize with your spouse. Take for example..."
"This is your car?" Max asked, astonished by the expensive Nissan Z he was leading her to after watching Casablanca at the Nuart Theatre.
"No, I just thought I'd like to try my hand at hotwiring," Logan quipped, clicking his keys to unlock the doors. He held her door open for her as she laughed. "Of course it's my car," he said lightheartedly.
Logan got in, started the engine, and backed out of the parking space. Soon they were driving down and empty stretch of a Los Angeles freeway.
"Wow," Max said in awe. "This is such a nice car." She ran her hand over her leather seat. "Didn't this cost a fortune?"
"Yeah," Logan said, laughing at the memory of his father signing for the down payment. "But my dad managed to get them to lower the payment a little bit."
Max just looked at the inside of the car, still in shock that anyone without gray hair and a corporate office could have such a nice car. "I still can't believe it," she said after a few minutes of silence. "My father would never buy me a car like this. He'd buy me an old, used piece of crap that'd be missing a fender."
Logan laughed at the thought of Max driving a beaten up Geo or Echo. "I guess that's where we're different."
"Yeah. My father's a crazy 'Be Your Own Boss' kinda guy and your dad sounds like a Suit," she commented.
Logan chuckled and patted her thigh. "It's okay, we can't all have old, stingy, power hungry men as fathers."
"Thank God."
"Imagine being on a seesaw by yourself. Would you go up or down?" Most students shook their heads. "Probably not. That's how a marriage is. If you don't have someone there, working with you and balancing the job of being married, well, let's just say it wouldn't be a pretty sight."
"And just as I walk into the room, the whole conversation stops and everyone stares at me!" Logan said, taking another sip of his soda.
Max shook her head and smiled. As she was about to tell him how stupid he was, a high piercing giggle came from behind them.
"Oh, Loogie! I just loved that story!"
"Sara!" Logan gritted his teeth, trying to wipe the bad thoughts about Bennett from his mind. "Nice to-" As he turned to face her, he had to keep from spitting his drink out. Sara was only dressed in a shorter-than-short miniskirt and a bikini top. "-suh, see y-you?"
Sara smiled even wider and flipped one of her blonde pigtails. "It's so good to see you again too! I didn't know you were coming to this party!" Sara saw Max move in front of Logan and scoffed. "But what is she doing here? I thought it was past her bedtime."
"I guess you didn't get the memo, but Logan's gotten over preppy bitchy snobs," Max said coldly. "He's much more into girls with that squishy thing between their ears."
Sara glared at Max but smiled when she directed her next question at Logan. "So Logan," Sara said happily, her pep back in action. "What are you doing later tonight?"
Logan put his drink down on the table and wrapped his arms around Max's waist from behind. "Baby," he said in her ear huskily, loud enough for Sara to hear. "What are we doing tonight?"
Max giggled, his hot breath tickling her ear. "I don't know! The hot tub's starting to get a little boring, don't you think?"
Sara's jaw dropped.
"It's never boring with you around, baby," he said, kissing Max's ear, causing her to giggle even more. "Maybe we should spice it up a little, huh?"
"Definitely!"
"Ugh!" Sara exclaimed, leaving in a huff, muttering to herself as she plowed through a crowd of confused people.
Max and Logan burst out laughing as the drama queen pouted her way out of the room. Logan kissed the tip of her nose and pulled her in closer.
"Thanks, you're my lifesaver," he said gratefully.
"Yeah?" Max said, smiling at his comment. "Well then, what flavor am I?"
A wicked grin grew on Logan's face. "I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"
A little smile grew on Max's face as she remembered that party. Sara never knew what hit her.
"The last one that'll be on your test and final will be the most important. Couples have to have a shared confidence about the relationship. If only one person carried the torch for your relationship, it really wouldn't be a relationship, would it?"
Max felt heat rush to her cheeks. That last day...
The sky overhead was covered by the clouds as they said their tearful goodbyes. Her parents were standing on the sidewalk by their car while Jonas and Margot, still in their robes, were right outside the house's door. The brokenhearted stood in between the families, trying to ignore the glares the four sent at them.
It had been so perfect at first; a little too perfect. They had fallen in love, and now the Shakespeare of fate had to pull them apart. The two knew that it would have to come to an end eventually, not knowing that it would end faster than they had thought. She had never fallen for someone so wonderful before, making this even harder for her. He was everything she wanted in someone- brains and the brawn. She needed him. He needed her. But she was leaving...
Tears streamed down Max's face as she tried to memorize Logan's face, his smile, his kisses, his smell. But the more she tried, the more the tears came. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs and kissed her one last time. She poured her sorrow and her love for him into the kiss, her heart breaking knowing that this would be the last kiss they would ever share again. Ever.
Logan broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
"We'll find a way," he whispered softly, his voice choked with emotion.
"We'll never see each other again," Max whispered sadly, more tears slipping off of her face.
"Max," Nicole's voice came coldly from behind them. "Time to go."
"Logan, I-"
"Max!" Nicole barked, impatience edging her voice.
"I love you," Logan said, struggling to stay under control.
"I love you too-"
"MAX!"
Logan put something in her hands and closed her fingers around it. "Don't forget me."
"Never."
Max brushed some stray tears from her eyes, sniffling, and went back to taking notes, trying to get her mind back on track.
The bell rang suddenly, ending Ms. McClintock's notes. "We'll finish tomorrow!" she yelled over the bell and the noises of students cramming books and papers into their bags.
Max quickly shoved the notes and her pen into her bag and started towards Geography.
"Hey!" a voice called from behind her. "Wait up!"
Max ignored the call, knowing the odds of someone calling her were slim, and kept walking.
"Hey! I said wait up!"
Max stopped upon hearing the voice a second time and stopped. The boy from Health appeared at her side.
"You have trouble hearing or something?" he said, shifting the weight of his backpack from one arm to the other as they started walking down the hall.
"No," she said casually. "I just don't expect random people to ask me to wait for them.
"Oh, okay" Well, anyway, my name's Aaron." He stuck out his hand.
Max looked at him oddly and slowly shook his hand. "Max."
He smiled. "Max. Max. That's a cool name for a girl. Stand for anything?"
"Max," she stated with a "No Duh" tone. Why is this guy so damn friendly?
"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed that she didn't say anything more.
"Look, is there something you want?" Max asked, trying to find the point in all of this.
Aaron shook his head. "I don't want to give you any trouble. You just look like you need someone to talk to."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, you looked kind of sad today at the end of class. I thought you might want someone to talk to about it, whatever it is."
"This some kinda joke?" No one had cared before, so why was someone starting now?
"Of course not! I'd never do a thing like that!"
They continued their walk to the other side of the building in quiet.
"Look," he said, taking a deep breath. "I know this sounds kinda weird-"
"Kinda?" she remarked.
"But you really look like you could use a friend right about now." Max looked away. "What do you say? Meet me over coffee some time?" he asked hopefully.
He sounds sincere enough, she thought to herself. What the hell? What do I have to loose?.
"Okay," she said hesitantly. "Coffee it is."
A smile grew on his face. "Really?" he asked, his voice sounding hopeful.
Max looked at him and smiled back. "Really."
Geography went by very slowly. Mr. Finch droned on and on about Africa and its demo-what's-it values, but Max wasn't really listening. She was thinking about this Aaron guy.
Why's he so interested in me? she thought.
Maybe he's trying to be nice? she reasoned with herself.
Ha! her cynical side scoffed. Like anyone would care about what I've been through!
Maybe someone does. her optimistic side countered.
Who knows... Max thought, rubbing her temples, her head starting to hurt.
The bell finally rang, signifying the end of another boring day at Seattle High School.
Thank God it's over, Max thought to herself, walking out of Geography as people flew by her.
The atmosphere of school after learning ended seemed to be livelier than during regular school hours. People were clumped together in the large hallways, laughing, playing hackey sack, singing, dancing... Max could hardly believe this was the same school she had walked into at seven twenty this morning.
As she walked into the English hall, she could see Mr. Patrekki trying to balance his suitcase and his newspaper in one arm as he tried to lock the door with his free hand.
"Mr. Patrekki!" she shouted down the empty hall, starting to run towards his classroom. "Wait! My paper!"
Mr. Patrekki, praising himself for finally locking the door, turned with a look of disgust on his face. "I've been in my classroom for five minutes for you bums to pick your papers up!" he snapped, obviously ready to leave. "Your papers are inside and I just locked the door!"
"Please, Mr. Patrekki? I really need this paper," she pleaded, knowing that she couldn't wait another day to get her paper back. "Please?"
Mr. Patrekki grumbled under his breath. "All right, all right!"
"Thank you so much," she said, sighing in relief.
He fished his keys out of his pocket and tried to open the door, but his suitcase and paper flew out of his arm and onto the floor. "Get that," he ordered, opening the door for her. "and don't think you're special because I let you get your paper. I don't award slackers."
Max nodded and walked in the classroom. She found a pile of papers with "Free Response" written on a Post-It note. After sifting through the stack, she found hers. Shoving it into her bag, she walked out of the classroom. Mr. Patrekki was outside, trying to put his newspaper back in order.
"Thanks Mr. P!" Max said, running off to find Heather.
As she ran down the hall, Mr. Patrekki looked at her and shook his head. "Kids," he grumbled.
Rounding a corner, Max stopped and pulled her paper out of her backpack, eager to read what the other teacher had written. As she turned the cover page, she was hit with red marks everywhere. She had put commas in the wrong places, said the wrong things...
"Overall," she read from the top of the page. "this paper had a mediocre voice and bad flow. Either rewrite or try another prompt." Max groaned and crumpled the paper in her hands. I guess I shoulda listened to Manda.
Time Frame: Total AU, 2005. No Pulse, no Manticore, no virus, no breeding cult psychos! Yay!
Author's Note: I'm soooooooooooooooooo sorry this had taken so long to get up! Summer session's evil! Pure evil! This is a longer chapter, which I'm hoping will make up for the fact that I've been AWOL for the last month...
Thanks for the reviews!: ob, Firmament, natters, Jayme(I'm not gonna type all your names, again), dada, Dark Phanton, Gozar, mackensie karls, beth, dleep, eilien, Lanna Jne, anony, Cuthien, RubyStar(What's your favorite tree?), Mitika (you rock, girl!), MLFan, and newcomers opalglacier and sandy! You guys are so awesome!
Six - Close, But No Cigar
Max sat happily and quietly in her room, knitting a long scarf. Classical music filled the air, replacing the usual teen angst she drowned herself in. But her music wasn't the only thing that had changed; her whole room had changed as well. The floors and shelves were pristine with a "The Donna Reed Show" air to them. She herself was clad in drab, meticulously ironed clothing from the show's era.
Suddenly, Nicole walked into her room with a steaming casserole dish in her hands. "Maxie, could you be a dear and get the mail for me?" she asked cheerfully. "I would ask your father, but he's too busy smoking his pipe."
"Of course, Mother!" Max responded just as joyfully. "I'd love to!"
Nicole smiled proudly, her heart swelling with pride. "That's my baby girl."
With that, Nicole turned on her heel and carried the casserole dish back to the kitchen. As soon as her mother had left, Max skipped happily to the mailbox. She slowly opened it, hoping that a Sears catalog would be there. Sadly, she was only faced with the empty metal entrails of the box.
"Afternoon, miss," a voice called out behind her.
Max turned to see Logan dressed in a postal service uniform, hat and all, holding her mail. He held up a Sears catalog. "Were you looking for this?" he asked.
Max bolted upright on her bed, her heart beating wildly.
"What the hell was that?"
She looked around her to see homework scattered randomly on the floor and the sun shining brightly into her room. 'I guess I must have fallen asleep while working on my homework...'
"Finally! You've returned from Dream Theater!" Heather walked into Max's room and sat next to her. "How was it? You dream about being stuck in Pretty in Pink Land again?"
Max shook her head and took a deep breath.
"You okay, hun?" Heather rubbed her back. "You look like you just saw Zack making out with Aunt Kendra."
Max shook her head again, not paying attention to Heather's joke.
"Okay, moving on." Max could feel something in her lap. "Got your mail for you; it just came a while ago. The new guy's a lot faster than the old guy. This one's cuter too."
Without thinking, Max bolted downstairs and out of the front door, hope and adrenaline pumping through her veins.
"Max!" Heather yelled after her, still sitting on Max's bed.
Max ran into the street and looked around hastily for the mailman. Her eyes scanned the street until she saw the blue bag and hat turn the corner.
"Wait!" Max yelled, breaking into a run. The mailman kept walking, totally oblivious to the world around him. "Stop!"
Her bare feet pounded against the rough, warm concrete as she flew down the street to catch up with the man. Her curiosity was killing her. Max could feel him slipping out of her reach, causing her feet to move faster. When she was finally in arm's length of him, she grabbed his shoulder, causing him to turn.
Suddenly, the vision of a chiseled face with blue eyes and glasses wearing that uniform disappeared. In its place was the sight of a thirty-year-old man sporting a soul patch.
"Oh, sorry," she said, her heart sinking. "I thought you were our regular mail guy."
The man smiled and took off his hat, wiping the sweat off his forehead. "It's all right, miss. Bill's on vacation this week, but he'll be back before you know it."
Putting his hat back on, the younger man turned and continued his route.
Max closed the front door to her house and turned the lock. Why did you run after him? It wasn't like it could've been Logan anyway. Stupid. Heather's head appeared from the edge of the balcony from the second level. Why did I even get my hopes up? Hope is for losers, remember? Logan's gone. I'm never gonna see him again.
"Max, why the heck did you do that?" Heather pressed, worry overruling her.
"Muscle spasm," Max quipped, walking towards the kitchen.
Heather moved away from the banister and walked down the back stairs that lead to the kitchen.
"I doubt that. So do you want to tell me the real reason why you went stalker on the mail guy?"
Max hopped on the counter and bit into an apple. "No," she mumbled, her mouth full of apple.
Heather opened the pantry, grabbed a box of Cheez-Its, and hopped up on the counter next to Max. "Why not?"
"Because the sun's gonna blow up one day, the damn birds are singing, and because Bush was our President for two years. Good enough reason?" Max spat sarcastically, taking another bite of her apple.
"Not really. The sun'll blow up in a couple billion years, and I'm sure it'll take more than one day," Heather said, trying to lighten the mood. "Come on, babe. You can tell me."
"Just leave me alone." Max pushed herself off of the counter and headed back to her room, leaving her sister sitting on the counter, shocked and hurt.
After about twenty minutes of sulking, Max trudged up to Heather's door. Max didn't know why she was doing this; she was still in a bad mood and she knew, as did Heather, that Max could say or do anything that she would regret while moody. My period better not be coming, she thought to herself, knowing that her "special friend" always made things even worse.
But Max knew that she had to apologize to Heather, bitchy or not. Max knew that her words had cut her sister deeply. Heather was the most loveable and loving in the family; it wasn't easy to hurt her, so when someone did, it was pretty bad. Max knew that this was one of those times.
She stared at the white door that separated her from her sister. Before she could stop herself, her knuckles started to knock on the door. She stood there for a while, waiting for Heather to open the door, but it remained closed. Max knocked again, this time putting her ear against the door.
"Damnit!"
Max could hear Miles Davis blaring in Heather's room. This only meant one thing: Heather was pissed. The hardcore Miles Davis album was only pulled out after catastrophic events: her break up with Jack (her boyfriend of six months), when her best friend Tessa moved to San Francisco, and those few big fights that she had had with the parental units.
"Heather?" Max spoke into the door, hoping her voice would carry over the trumpets. She knocked on the door again, this time slamming her fist into the wooden door. "Heather! Open the door!" Max was about to knock again, but the door flew open.
"Whaddya want?" Heather snapped, her voice on edge.
Max fidgeted with her jeans and looked down at her bare feet. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I was a complete psycho," she said quietly. "Can ya forgive me?" Max looked up at her sister, hoping that Heather would forgive her.
Heather looked off in space for a moment, and then at Max. She nodded. "Yeah, I guess I can forgive you." A smile slid on her face. "This time around."
Max smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. All was good, for now. "Can we talk?" Max said sheepishly. "I've got a lot to talk about."
Heather sidestepped and held her arm out in an "after you" fashion.
"...and then you walked in with the mail. You know the rest after that," Max concluded, getting her dream out in the open.
"Hmm..." Heather wrote on her steno pad. "I can't imagine Logan in a postal worker outfit," she commented.
Max laughed. "Neither can I." She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. "So what do you think it means?"
"Besides the fact that you have a thing for the men in blue?" Heather quipped, dodging a pillow being thrown in her direction. "Well, I think the 'Donna Reed' backdrop was just to get your attention. It really represented the unfamiliarity in your life, since we both know that we do not live in the fifties, thank God." Max nodded. "I'm thinking that Logan carrying the catalog means that he's bringing you happiness, since the catalog's what you want. Logan being your mailman may mean that he's closer than you think."
Max looked at Heather confused. "Like, distance wise?"
"Maybe."
Silence lulled over the two: Max deeply reveling over the fact that this could be a sign and Heather reevaluating the dream. Talking about Logan reminded Heather of something.
"Oh, by the way." Heather got off the couch and grabbed Max's laptop off her desk. "I looked over this for you. Manda did too."
Max had forgotten about her paper and suddenly felt dread clam the pit of her stomach. "So how bad was it?" she said, preparing for the worst.
"Not that bad," Heather replied, obviously lying.
"It sucked," Max groaned, burying her face in a pillow. "I'm gonna die."
Heather plopped back down on the couch. "No you're not! You just need some help making it sound... ya know, better. I think you should call Manda."
Max moved her chin so her face was no longer in the pillow. "Do you think she can help?"
"I know she can," Heather stated firmly, trying to make Max feel better. "Here's her number." Heather handed Max a slip of paper.
"Thanks," Max said, jamming it in her pocket. "So why do you think it was bad?"
"Well, it sounds childish, forced, and extremely immature. You get sidetracked all the time, and you loose your train of thought. The sentences just don't flow and there are a couple of grammatical errors."
"Wow," Max said to herself, "When you said no sugarcoating, you meant no sugarcoating." Max plopped on her bed, shocked at what Manda had said. "Was there at least one itty bitty good thing about it? Like the fact that it's mostly grammatically correct?" Max could hear papers ruffling.
"Lemme see... Oh!" Manda said, causing Max to sigh a little sigh of relief that it wasn't a total lost cause. "I loved the hospital imagery; how you described the room. Very nice."
"Is that all?" Max could barely make out, a pit crawling in the bottom of her stomach.
"Hmm. I like the Rugrats thing, but it doesn't really fit in with what you have."
"But that was my piece de resistance!" Max protested.
"It doesn't fit," Manda said, "I think you're going to have to take it out."
Max groaned and lay down on her bed. "What the hell am I going to do then?"
"You really don't want to write this, do you?"
"I hate it," Max grumbled.
"Well..." Manda trailed off, trying to think of something else. "Do you have any other prompts you can choose from, or are you stuck with this one?"
"Mr. P gave us three."
"What are they?"
"Goals, life, summer vacation," Max recited drably, knowing the evil prompts by heart.
"Oh," Manda said optimistically. "Can't you do the summer one? Los Angeles is a pretty exciting place."
Max tensed at the question. "Uh..." Max tried to think of something to say. "It's not something I want to relive."
"Okay," Manda drawled skeptically, sensing the touchiness in Max's voice. "Well, I guess that means you're left with the goals prompt."
"I guess so," Max sighed. "Thanks for your help, Manda."
"Anytime. Oh, Max? Do me a favor?"
"Hm?"
"Let Heather and me read it before you turn it in?"
Max smiled. "Sure."
"Alright, class. Before I go back to more pressing matters,"
"What, like reading the sports section?" Max muttered under her breath.
"I'd like to extend a chance for me to teach you less this year," Mr. Patrekki said, leaning his back against the edge of his desk. "One of the other teachers has kindly offered to look over any rough drafts that you may have. She owed me some favors."
Max shook her head. Such a slacker, she thought.
"So, if you have anything that resembles writing or something that will be turned in on Friday, pass it up. You can get them back after school, don't worry. But now, I need to see who won the PGA tournament over the weekend."
Max pulled out her goals paper that she had worked on all last night. Sure, some parts were a little lame, but overall, Max thought it was a pretty good paper. She passed it up with another girl's paper. Didn't Heather and Manda want to read it? Max shrugged to herself. Oh well, it's going bye-bye.
After Mr. Patrekki finished getting all the papers, he muttered to the class to "work on whatever" and returned to his newspaper.
Max sighed contently. She had done it; she had turned the paper in and she had said nothing about Logan. Even though it was one of her goals to find him and tell him how much she loved him, she decided to leave that out of her paper. But it wasn't like she had lied on her paper, she included the fact that she wanted to get a motorcycle license and drive a Ninja, that she wanted a really high class rank, and that she was going to go to sit on top of the Seattle Space Needle one day.
She had sounded like such a regular person when she reread her paper. From reading it, it looked as if she had no pressing problems, no "Summer Lovin' ", and that everything was hunky dory, peachy keen or whatever. She almost sounded like a normal teenager; just trying to get through high school. In the minds' of everyone else, she was just another lowly, unattached freshman who didn't need anyone to make her happy. Yup, she didn't need anyone to lead a perfectly fine life.
"Relationships. We all need them to live a happy and fulfilling life. It may be a close companionship, a tight circle of friends, or the love that two people share towards each other. No matter what the case, we all need them. Today we'll be concentrating more on the last one: the strong love that two people share for each other," Ms. McClintock stated, causing some sighs of contentment and some of annoyance to appear.
Oh, damn.
Max hated Health, but this made Max hate the subject even more. You can do this, she told herself You know that you don't need some guy to make you happy; you've got your friends and the small portion of your family that won't stab you in the back!
"The divorce rate is getting higher and higher in the United States each year. And do you know why that is?" Ms. McClintock asked the class.
"More fights on Jerry Springer?" a boy offered, making the class laugh.
Ms. McClintock shook her head and laughed with the rest of the class. "That's not exactly what I had in mind, Jack. Anyone else?"
A timid looking girl with owlish glasses raised her hand slowly. Ms. McClintock shook her head to let the girl speak. "Poor communication?" her soft voice carried from the back of the classroom.
"Yes," Ms. McClintock triumphantly, pointing in her direction. "There are lots of reasons why people divorce, but the one that tops the list is poor communication. If you can't tell your boyfriend that you need your space, why marry him? If honesty isn't even a policy in the relationship, marriage is not the next logical step." Ms. McClintock walked around the room, tossing a little hackey sack in her hand. "Successful marriages all depend on the communication process being used to its full effect..."
Leaning her head against the wall, Max let Ms. McClintock's words fly in and out of her head. Max didn't want to hear anything about relationships and successful marriages; she had her full of relationships. Even with Logan lost, she thought of what it would be like if they met again when they were older and got married. Max knew it sounded extremely childish and oh so "Look at me! I'm Joanie and I'm gonna, like, marry my high school sweetheart and have 2.5 kids and a mini-van!", but she didn't care. It made her smile.
She could see the two of them, older and smarter, sitting on their soft sofa in front of a warm fire as snow fell outside their cozy, little cabin in Big Bear. Logan would have his arm wrapped around her shoulder and Max's arms would be wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his chest. They would be spending their first real vacation away from the demanding beck and call of Los Angeles where Logan would be a writer, tired from his second major book tour, and Max would be a columnist, reporting the vibrant LA life to its people. Logan would look down at her and kiss her on the forehead, smiling at her as she twisted her wedding band around with her thumb. Her life would be so good...
A book fell off of someone's desk with a loud slam, causing her dreams of snow and Logan to come to an abrupt end. She straightened in her seat, deciding to pay attention to Ms. McClintock's lesson. This time, anyway.
"There are a lot of things that make marriages work and last a long time. There will be four components of what makes a good marriage on your final exam and on your upcoming test, so I would write these down if I were you."
Ruffling papers and the sounds of pages ripping out of the backs of spirals filled the silence as most struggled to find paper. Max followed suit and rummaged through her backpack, searching for her spiral. She came up empty. I guess I'll hafta write it on my hand, she thought to herself, uncapping her pen and bringing it to her hand. Just then, she left a finger poke her shoulder blade, causing her to turn around.
"Here," a boy with sparkling blue eyes said to her. "It's my last piece."
He has Logan's eyes... Max took the paper and forced a smile. "Thanks."
The boy smiled. "My pleasure."
"Alrighty." Ms. McClintock sat on a barstool. "The first component in having a good marriage is being able to agree on vital issues in the marriage, like who pays the bills, who brings the bacon home..."
"Sweet or spicy?" Logan asked her, turning in his chair to face her.
"What?" Max was confused by the random question.
The two were sitting in a movie theater watching the ads go by before the previews.
"Which do you prefer? Something sweet, or something a little spicy?" He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, making Max laugh.
She pulled a box of Hot Tamales and a bag of all cherry Starburst from her purse and set them in her lap.
"Both."
Logan nodded. "Same."
"Window or aisle?" Max said, popping a Hot Tamale in her mouth.
"Aisle," Logan said, taking one of her cherry Starbursts. "That way I don't have to-"
"- climb over people," the two finished, causing both to laugh.
"Warm or cold weather?"
"Cool," Max replied."You?"
"Same," he said, eyes shining as the theatre dimmed to show the previews.
She leaned over and whispered, "It's good to know we that agree on the more important things."
Logan chuckled and kissed her on the forehead. "The very important things."
"...Second is having similar interests. That way, the whole marriage won't be spent bashing heads over where to go or what dining room set to buy. Now let me tell you a story..."
The sea was gently waving goodbye to the shore and Max and Logan walked on the boardwalk over looking the beach. The sand crunched under their shoes and a sea breeze ran its fingers through Max's curly hair and toyed with the bottom of her blue dress. Logan wrapped a hand around her waist as they moved towards the railing at the end of the boardwalk.
"Cold?" he whispered in her ear, making her shiver.
"I'm good," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
Logan looked out over the boardwalk at the ocean. Remnants of the day's events stayed: an abandoned towel, a small, red shovel sticking out of the ground, but the life that had possessed the beach had left. Only one person walked among the sands of the beach now. The lonely man slowly ambled near the tide, braving the cold water. His clothes were disheveled and worn and his features portrayed that of a heartbroken shell of a man.
"If only Edward Hopper were here," Logan whispered to himself, remembering the loneliness Hopper had painted.
"Yeah," Max said, her eyes on the broken man. "He'd have a ball with this guy."
Logan stared at her, surprised by her comment. "I didn't know you were into art?"
Max looked at Logan and smiled. "You never asked."
"It's best when couples have a somewhat of a similar family background. If they're raised the same way or under the same kind of morals, it's easier to understand and sympathize with your spouse. Take for example..."
"This is your car?" Max asked, astonished by the expensive Nissan Z he was leading her to after watching Casablanca at the Nuart Theatre.
"No, I just thought I'd like to try my hand at hotwiring," Logan quipped, clicking his keys to unlock the doors. He held her door open for her as she laughed. "Of course it's my car," he said lightheartedly.
Logan got in, started the engine, and backed out of the parking space. Soon they were driving down and empty stretch of a Los Angeles freeway.
"Wow," Max said in awe. "This is such a nice car." She ran her hand over her leather seat. "Didn't this cost a fortune?"
"Yeah," Logan said, laughing at the memory of his father signing for the down payment. "But my dad managed to get them to lower the payment a little bit."
Max just looked at the inside of the car, still in shock that anyone without gray hair and a corporate office could have such a nice car. "I still can't believe it," she said after a few minutes of silence. "My father would never buy me a car like this. He'd buy me an old, used piece of crap that'd be missing a fender."
Logan laughed at the thought of Max driving a beaten up Geo or Echo. "I guess that's where we're different."
"Yeah. My father's a crazy 'Be Your Own Boss' kinda guy and your dad sounds like a Suit," she commented.
Logan chuckled and patted her thigh. "It's okay, we can't all have old, stingy, power hungry men as fathers."
"Thank God."
"Imagine being on a seesaw by yourself. Would you go up or down?" Most students shook their heads. "Probably not. That's how a marriage is. If you don't have someone there, working with you and balancing the job of being married, well, let's just say it wouldn't be a pretty sight."
"And just as I walk into the room, the whole conversation stops and everyone stares at me!" Logan said, taking another sip of his soda.
Max shook her head and smiled. As she was about to tell him how stupid he was, a high piercing giggle came from behind them.
"Oh, Loogie! I just loved that story!"
"Sara!" Logan gritted his teeth, trying to wipe the bad thoughts about Bennett from his mind. "Nice to-" As he turned to face her, he had to keep from spitting his drink out. Sara was only dressed in a shorter-than-short miniskirt and a bikini top. "-suh, see y-you?"
Sara smiled even wider and flipped one of her blonde pigtails. "It's so good to see you again too! I didn't know you were coming to this party!" Sara saw Max move in front of Logan and scoffed. "But what is she doing here? I thought it was past her bedtime."
"I guess you didn't get the memo, but Logan's gotten over preppy bitchy snobs," Max said coldly. "He's much more into girls with that squishy thing between their ears."
Sara glared at Max but smiled when she directed her next question at Logan. "So Logan," Sara said happily, her pep back in action. "What are you doing later tonight?"
Logan put his drink down on the table and wrapped his arms around Max's waist from behind. "Baby," he said in her ear huskily, loud enough for Sara to hear. "What are we doing tonight?"
Max giggled, his hot breath tickling her ear. "I don't know! The hot tub's starting to get a little boring, don't you think?"
Sara's jaw dropped.
"It's never boring with you around, baby," he said, kissing Max's ear, causing her to giggle even more. "Maybe we should spice it up a little, huh?"
"Definitely!"
"Ugh!" Sara exclaimed, leaving in a huff, muttering to herself as she plowed through a crowd of confused people.
Max and Logan burst out laughing as the drama queen pouted her way out of the room. Logan kissed the tip of her nose and pulled her in closer.
"Thanks, you're my lifesaver," he said gratefully.
"Yeah?" Max said, smiling at his comment. "Well then, what flavor am I?"
A wicked grin grew on Logan's face. "I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"
A little smile grew on Max's face as she remembered that party. Sara never knew what hit her.
"The last one that'll be on your test and final will be the most important. Couples have to have a shared confidence about the relationship. If only one person carried the torch for your relationship, it really wouldn't be a relationship, would it?"
Max felt heat rush to her cheeks. That last day...
The sky overhead was covered by the clouds as they said their tearful goodbyes. Her parents were standing on the sidewalk by their car while Jonas and Margot, still in their robes, were right outside the house's door. The brokenhearted stood in between the families, trying to ignore the glares the four sent at them.
It had been so perfect at first; a little too perfect. They had fallen in love, and now the Shakespeare of fate had to pull them apart. The two knew that it would have to come to an end eventually, not knowing that it would end faster than they had thought. She had never fallen for someone so wonderful before, making this even harder for her. He was everything she wanted in someone- brains and the brawn. She needed him. He needed her. But she was leaving...
Tears streamed down Max's face as she tried to memorize Logan's face, his smile, his kisses, his smell. But the more she tried, the more the tears came. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs and kissed her one last time. She poured her sorrow and her love for him into the kiss, her heart breaking knowing that this would be the last kiss they would ever share again. Ever.
Logan broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
"We'll find a way," he whispered softly, his voice choked with emotion.
"We'll never see each other again," Max whispered sadly, more tears slipping off of her face.
"Max," Nicole's voice came coldly from behind them. "Time to go."
"Logan, I-"
"Max!" Nicole barked, impatience edging her voice.
"I love you," Logan said, struggling to stay under control.
"I love you too-"
"MAX!"
Logan put something in her hands and closed her fingers around it. "Don't forget me."
"Never."
Max brushed some stray tears from her eyes, sniffling, and went back to taking notes, trying to get her mind back on track.
The bell rang suddenly, ending Ms. McClintock's notes. "We'll finish tomorrow!" she yelled over the bell and the noises of students cramming books and papers into their bags.
Max quickly shoved the notes and her pen into her bag and started towards Geography.
"Hey!" a voice called from behind her. "Wait up!"
Max ignored the call, knowing the odds of someone calling her were slim, and kept walking.
"Hey! I said wait up!"
Max stopped upon hearing the voice a second time and stopped. The boy from Health appeared at her side.
"You have trouble hearing or something?" he said, shifting the weight of his backpack from one arm to the other as they started walking down the hall.
"No," she said casually. "I just don't expect random people to ask me to wait for them.
"Oh, okay" Well, anyway, my name's Aaron." He stuck out his hand.
Max looked at him oddly and slowly shook his hand. "Max."
He smiled. "Max. Max. That's a cool name for a girl. Stand for anything?"
"Max," she stated with a "No Duh" tone. Why is this guy so damn friendly?
"Oh," he said, sounding disappointed that she didn't say anything more.
"Look, is there something you want?" Max asked, trying to find the point in all of this.
Aaron shook his head. "I don't want to give you any trouble. You just look like you need someone to talk to."
"Excuse me?"
"Well, you looked kind of sad today at the end of class. I thought you might want someone to talk to about it, whatever it is."
"This some kinda joke?" No one had cared before, so why was someone starting now?
"Of course not! I'd never do a thing like that!"
They continued their walk to the other side of the building in quiet.
"Look," he said, taking a deep breath. "I know this sounds kinda weird-"
"Kinda?" she remarked.
"But you really look like you could use a friend right about now." Max looked away. "What do you say? Meet me over coffee some time?" he asked hopefully.
He sounds sincere enough, she thought to herself. What the hell? What do I have to loose?.
"Okay," she said hesitantly. "Coffee it is."
A smile grew on his face. "Really?" he asked, his voice sounding hopeful.
Max looked at him and smiled back. "Really."
Geography went by very slowly. Mr. Finch droned on and on about Africa and its demo-what's-it values, but Max wasn't really listening. She was thinking about this Aaron guy.
Why's he so interested in me? she thought.
Maybe he's trying to be nice? she reasoned with herself.
Ha! her cynical side scoffed. Like anyone would care about what I've been through!
Maybe someone does. her optimistic side countered.
Who knows... Max thought, rubbing her temples, her head starting to hurt.
The bell finally rang, signifying the end of another boring day at Seattle High School.
Thank God it's over, Max thought to herself, walking out of Geography as people flew by her.
The atmosphere of school after learning ended seemed to be livelier than during regular school hours. People were clumped together in the large hallways, laughing, playing hackey sack, singing, dancing... Max could hardly believe this was the same school she had walked into at seven twenty this morning.
As she walked into the English hall, she could see Mr. Patrekki trying to balance his suitcase and his newspaper in one arm as he tried to lock the door with his free hand.
"Mr. Patrekki!" she shouted down the empty hall, starting to run towards his classroom. "Wait! My paper!"
Mr. Patrekki, praising himself for finally locking the door, turned with a look of disgust on his face. "I've been in my classroom for five minutes for you bums to pick your papers up!" he snapped, obviously ready to leave. "Your papers are inside and I just locked the door!"
"Please, Mr. Patrekki? I really need this paper," she pleaded, knowing that she couldn't wait another day to get her paper back. "Please?"
Mr. Patrekki grumbled under his breath. "All right, all right!"
"Thank you so much," she said, sighing in relief.
He fished his keys out of his pocket and tried to open the door, but his suitcase and paper flew out of his arm and onto the floor. "Get that," he ordered, opening the door for her. "and don't think you're special because I let you get your paper. I don't award slackers."
Max nodded and walked in the classroom. She found a pile of papers with "Free Response" written on a Post-It note. After sifting through the stack, she found hers. Shoving it into her bag, she walked out of the classroom. Mr. Patrekki was outside, trying to put his newspaper back in order.
"Thanks Mr. P!" Max said, running off to find Heather.
As she ran down the hall, Mr. Patrekki looked at her and shook his head. "Kids," he grumbled.
Rounding a corner, Max stopped and pulled her paper out of her backpack, eager to read what the other teacher had written. As she turned the cover page, she was hit with red marks everywhere. She had put commas in the wrong places, said the wrong things...
"Overall," she read from the top of the page. "this paper had a mediocre voice and bad flow. Either rewrite or try another prompt." Max groaned and crumpled the paper in her hands. I guess I shoulda listened to Manda.