"How did it go? I heard you shouting from here," Max says, putting his bucket down and sitting beside her on the porch.

"I…" she trails off and shakes her head. "I don't know how it went. I feel a little bit better," she sighs and shakes her head again. "And I feel a little bit worse." She sniffs a little. "I just… I wanted to be their friend. I really did, Max."

He knows she did. The two sit in silence for a little while, and Max again wishes Gracie was here. He wishes he had any experience with teenagers, or even kids for that matter. But there was something he had too much experience with: regret.

He looks over at the red-haired teenager and sighs. As much as he wishes it, she's not there. Gracie isn't there, but he is, and Charlotte is, and the regret tearing her through matches his. So much has happened to her in forty-eight hours, and he isn't sure if she can take any advice at the moment, but he has to try.

"Charlotte," he starts slowly, and she looks up, her expression tired. "Don't… don't let this define you." She gives him a questioning look, and he takes a minute to find the right word. "I just mean, the mermaid secret, what's happened this month, this year, don't let it define you. What you did, what they did, what Lewis did," he emphasizes his name, and she lowers her eyes. "You don't want to end up like me."

"Max, I'm sorry," she whispers, but he waves her off.

"You're a bright girl, and even though you don't see it, there is a lot of Gracie in you. She was tough, and so are you. Be sad, be angry about what happened. But for god's sake, don't let it consume you."

Charlotte pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knee. The wind whistles through the trees, and she closes her eyes as Max's words swirl in her mind. She thought about what her mom said about when her grandma died, that she had cried for months. She didn't remember it very well, but she did remember the pain, and until last night, she thought she'd never feel like that again. But like the pain so long ago, maybe she didn't always have to feel like that.

"I don't want to feel like this forever," she finally says in a quiet voice. "Max, I think I need to go home. I think I have something to tell my mom."

She looks at him, a questioning look in her eyes, and he nods. "If you trust her, Charlotte, I'm not going to say anything."

Charlotte smiles, a small upturn of her lips, but it's there just the same. "Thank you, Max. For everything," she finishes, standing up and looking out to the sky. "Thanks for everything you did for Gracie too."

Max is a gruff old hermit, everyone around the town said so. He took a little bit of pride in the reputation he had built up: it kept people away from him, just how he liked it. But the walls were coming down, just a little, and he gave her a quick nod.

She started to walk away, and he called out, "You know, if you wanted a locket of your own, I still know how to make them."

Charlotte shook her head. "No. Those lockets mean something, and that's not for me. It never was. Thank you though. For everything."

Max nods again, and Charlotte began the walk home.