Chapter 07: Away From Me

Frank, not wanting to be seen dropping Max off, and Max not wanting to be seen being dropped off by Frank, agreed for Max to be let out a block away from campus. As soon as she hit the street, Max whipped out her phone. 02:02 PM. Great. She'd already missed not only gym, but music, too. Not that it wasn't totally worth it.

The doe could've easily taken her to that void anywhere, of that Max was certain. She couldn't figure out why it went through the song and dance of leading her to Chloe's grave. It wasn't painful, thinking about that grave, for the first time since… ever. Because it wasn't permanent. Chloe wasn't gone forever.

I will take her back!

Maybe that was why. Her spirit animal wanted to show her "her truth." And that truth had everything to do with the girl who was just temporarily occupying her grave. "I'll drag you back from hell itself if I have to," Max muttered aloud as she came upon the main steps to campus.

She made it about halfway up before she stopped in her tracks. There, right in the middle of the courtyard, stood Principal Wells. "So good of you to rejoin us, Ms. Caulfield. I was beginning to wonder if you would grace us with your presence at all today."

I am so screwed.

Max just hung her head. "Do you want me to go to class, or…"

"My office. Now." Turning on his heel, he led the way to the main building.

Objectively, this was nothing. Not even a bump in the road on the grand scale of things. It had nothing to do with her powers or how she'd get Chloe back. Still, her emotions begged to differ. She felt like a death row inmate, being led to the electric chair. Keeping her mouth sealed tight, she followed the principal into his office.

"Have a seat," Wells said as he rounded the table and sat at his, according to Chloe, surprisingly comfy chair. Instead of addressing her directly, he moved over and picked up his phone. "Yes. Are you still there?" A pause. "Good, I'll put you on." He pressed a button on the handset, and replaced the receiver. The buzzing from the machine told Max that the speakerphone was on. "And I apologize about the wait. I honestly thought Max would come to her senses a little sooner."

"Is she there?" Max's heart dropped at the sound of her mother's voice.

"She is," Wells said.

"Max?" This time, her dad's voice came through the machine.

Words failing her, all Max could think to say was, "Mom? Dad?"

"I would like to thank the both of you for making time for this meeting, though I would have preferred that it not have to happen at all," Wells said, setting a laser-focused stare on Max. "In just this past week, one Maxine Caulfield has missed three classes, not counting the two she missed today alone. She also has several tardies and multiple reports of her leaving class abruptly and not returning for some time, if at all. In addition, virtually all of her teachers have expressed concern that she has become even more withdrawn than usual, and in the case of photography, has stopped participating in class altogether."

Max couldn't help but to wonder if Captain Chloe would've been proud or ashamed of her first mate following so closely in her footsteps.

"Max," the principal continued, "do you feel that these reports are unfair or inaccurate?"

Keeping her gaze firmly locked on her hands, balled up in her lap, she shook her head.

"Maxine?" Vanessa's voice called out from the phone.

"No," she said.

"Perhaps more alarmingly, there is a rumor that you left school grounds with a known troublemaker today," Wells said.

"So?" Max replied.

"Max!"

"Maxine!"

Both of her parents admonished her at once. That didn't matter, she had a point to make. "Chloe Price was a 'known troublemaker,' too!"

"And look where that got her," Wells replied.

Max was out of her chair in an instant. Her hands slammed down on his desk. "You take that back! Take it back right now!" She leaned in, not shying away from his disapproving stare.

Wells raised his voice, "Ms. Caulfield, return to your seat."

Max didn't budge. "Take. It. Back."

"Maxine, I know you're hurting right now, but please try to stay calm," Vanessa said.

Wells closed his eyes, breathing a long breath in and out. "I will admit that, perhaps, I overstepped. What happened to Ms. Price was an unavoidable tragedy. I was out of line."

Grinding her teeth, Max forced herself away from the desk and sat back down. "It wasn't unavoidable," she said. "You let Nathan get away with murder for years."

"Max!" Ryan's voice shouted. "What has gotten into you?"

"I won't let anyone talk about Chloe that way! No one!" Max knew full well she was just digging herself a deeper hole, but she couldn't stop herself. This asshole may not have been directly responsible for Chloe's death—hell, if fate had anything to say about it, it would've found another way to kill her—but he couldn't just turn a blind eye to everything and then blame Chloe for it. No way in hell would Max ever let that pass.

"I-I'm so sorry Mr. Wells. This is so unlike Maxine," Vanessa said.

Trembling head to toe, Max shook her head. "No. This is me. This is me defending Chloe. And nothing in heaven or hell can stop me from doing that. Nothing."

Wells sighed again. "It seems I have touched a raw nerve. Why don't we forget this little… indiscretion and move on, shall we?"

Max nodded, not trusting her voice.

"I'm so sorry, Principal Wells," Ryan said.

"So, Max, why don't you tell us where you went today that was so important that you miss all your classes?" Wells asked.

Though she had managed to reign in her anger, Max still felt a bitterness she couldn't quite place. "I went to see her. It… it was one week today."

Wells leaned in. "I'm not following. Just who did you—"

"Chloe," Ryan said, cutting Wells off. "Who else would she be talking about?"

Max almost smiled. At least someone was in her corner.

"Maxine, I know… I don't. I don't know how you feel right now, and I'm so sorry. But why couldn't you wait until tomorrow instead of missing class to… visit her?" Vanessa asked.

"Because tomorrow is not one week," Ryan replied. "Tomorrow is one week and one day."

"I think the picture here is starting to get clearer," Wells said, sitting back in his chair. "You know, the loss of a loved one is an excusable absence. Perhaps everyone here has underestimated just how profoundly this tragedy has affected Max. Why don't we do this? Instead of entering all of this into the permanent record, I will simply make a note that her academics have suffered due to a personal loss, and I will excuse Max from class for the next week so that she may try to work through this. Does that seem fair?"

"More than fair," Vanessa said.

"Thank you, Principal Wells," Ryan said.

"Max?" Wells prodded.

"I-I don't need…"

"You will accept this offer, or I enter everything into your record and you will be suspended for the next week," Wells said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Like that was a choice at all. "I… accept."

Wells scooted in to his desk, leaning over toward the phone. "I cannot force you to do anything specific, but I highly recommend getting Max to see a professional as soon as possible."

"Of course, thank you again," Vanessa replied.

Max zoned out while her parents and the principal went through their platitudes. There were a bevy of texts from her parents. Mostly telling her to shut up and apologize. Not after what he said. How could he talk about Chloe like that when he let that sick fuck and Nathan do as they pleased right under his nose? At least David fucking tried. And now her parents would be here tomorrow to drag her back to Seattle for a week of therapists and her parents patronizing her every minute of the damn day.

I don't have time for this.

You do not.

Breathing deeply in and out, she ignored the voice. If only they would bother her when she was alone, she could actually talk to them and figure out just what all this crazy shit was about.

Before she knew it, the principal was escorting her out of the building, encouraging her to take it easy and pack her dorm. If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn he was eager to be rid of her. He probably was. Just a thorn in his side tearing at his flesh to remind him that he fucked up royally. How did he even still have a job after what happened to Chloe?

Max didn't even make it to the fountain before her phone started ringing. Who would call her? Everyone knew that she always preferred texts. Always. Fishing the phone from her bag, her heart sank at the name displayed on the screen: Mom.

Hugging herself with one arm and using the other to hold the phone up to her ear, Max sat down on the edge of the fountain. "Hey, Mom," she said, her voice small.

"Maxine Caulfield! What in the devil has gotten into you?" When Max didn't reply, she went on, "I have never seen you talk to anyone that way. Do you want to lose your scholarship?"

"I don't… care," she replied. Though her voice was hollow and uncertain, those words couldn't have rung more true. She came to Blackwell for two reasons: photography and Chloe. For the moment, Chloe was dead. And now… now she couldn't even bring herself to take a single photo.

"Maxine!"

"Just… transfer me back to Seattle. But I need a few days. Can you and dad wait a few days to come get me? I'm not ready to leave tomorrow."

"Max…" This time, her mother's voice was devoid of the stern admonishment. "You don't mean that."

Tears rolled down Max's face as she hunched over. "I can't take pictures anymore. I-I can't!" She stopped, sniffling and sobbing. "Chloe's dead. There's nothing here for me anymore. Just… just give me a week to get everything packed, and I'll come home. For good."

Seriously, Arcadia Bay. Fuck you.

Pain abounds here. A vortex of suffering emanating from cruel fate.

"I gotta go." Max clicked the phone off, not even waiting for her mother's reply.

She stood, looking all around. Confident she was alone, she called out, "Just who are you? Why do you keep talking to me?"

We know your pain.

Wait.

For the first time she could remember, the voices weren't just echoing in her head. She could've sworn there was a direction to them. Following the sounds, she called out again. "Are you the ones who can help me? Help me to 'not return?'"

If you intend to conquer mighty fate, our strength is your strength.

"You know, whoever the hell you are, you seem awfully interested in fate," Max replied, still briskly walking after the voices. "If by 'conquer fate' you mean 'save Chloe,' then you don't even have to ask. I'll do whatever it takes. With or without you."

We can help you save her.

"Then tell me what to do," Max said as she walked into the courtyard in front of the dorms. "How do I 'not return,' and how can I save everyone from the storm?

Some things you must discover yourself.

Max stopped. She was on the path furthest from the dorm's entrance. Before her stood the Tobanga, off in the distance. "You're Tobanga?"

No.

It might've said "no," but there was no doubt that voice came from the totem pole. "If not Tobanga, then who are you, really?"

We are the spirits of this land.

We have witnessed wise fate's purpose twisted to the sinister.

We have seen in you the power to defeat fate.

We must know that it is possible.

"Why?"

Greedy fate steals away innocence and life.

Merciless fate brings pain and decay.

Angry fate begs violence and destruction.

Cold fate ignores hope and determination.

Together, the voices spoke as one: Fate must be conquered! Bring her back!

Hiking up the trail, Max reached up and set a hand on the totem pole. She closed her eyes, and it was like the whole rest of the world vanished. She again stood in the void. "I will save Chloe. No matter what. I just need a way to get to her."

Your power will take you there.

Before Max, she saw Polaroids floating by. Selfies. This time, when she reached out, she was able to actually hold the picture. In her hand was the missing photograph. The one with the blue butterfly. "Wait." Her trepidation broke her focus, causing the picture to slip from her hand and flutter away into nothing. "I have to save Chloe, but I can't let everyone in Arcadia Bay die."

Our power grows weaker as the poisons and ravages of man defile the lands.

"Are you saying I don't have time, or that you can't help me with the storm?"

Both.

"How… how much time do I have?"

When the moon wanes, it is too late.

Max grabbed her phone, but here in the void, nothing she did could stir it to life. "When? When is that?"

Two nights.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Max paced around in the nothing. She'd never figure out a way to stop the storm in that time. Worse, she didn't have any photos to go back with. A few days ago, in a fit of rage and despair, she ripped down all her Polaroids. Threw them all out. There were some from Joyce that she didn't dare part with, but that was so far back.

"You can always take new pictures."

Max stopped her manic pacing at the sound of her own voice. "New pictures? How would that help?"

The doe appeared before her. "A picture represents a moment in time, a view of your own past. It does not matter when it is taken, but what memories it holds."

Again, the Polaroids appeared. But this time, something was off. As they zipped by, Max realized that not one of them actually existed. Pictures of her and Chloe at the pool. In her truck. In her room. "So just… recreate a picture? Something from the past?"

The doe vanished. "Wait! What about the storm?"

Let it come.

"No! I won't let anyone die!"

Two nights.

We will help you to save her.

Forsake the rest.

"Hey! That thing is off limits!"

The blackness snapped away at the shout. Shaking her head, Max looked to find her hand still resting on the totem pole. Turning, Max saw a member of Blackwell Security approaching her. Too bad it wasn't David. "Sorry," Max muttered as she stepped away from Tobanga, if that was its real name. The moment her hand left, the world slipped away again.

A pounding pain ripped through Max's skull. For a moment, that is the only thing her mind could register, but slowly, her senses came to her. A powerful rain pelted her as an immense wind threatened to knock her down.

Where…?

Max looked up, and there it was. The storm. It was right in front of her. She found herself standing on the last plank of the dock, the sea churning violently around her as the tornado rapidly approached.

"Max!"

The very sound of the voice resonated through her, hitting her with more force than the wind and rain. Spinning around, she saw Chloe halfway down the docks, running after her. Right toward the tornado! Terror seized her heart as the realization dawned on her.

She's going to die!

Max sprinted after her. "You can't be here!"

"Hey, are you okay?"

Max found herself kneeling on the ground with the security guard standing over her. Lingering fear didn't fade, like from a dream. It stayed, gripping her heart tight. "She's going to die… again!"

"Miss?"

A heaviness settled in her chest as her heart continued its desperate churning. "I-I'm okay," Max lied as she forced herself off the ground. Both arms wrapped around herself as she tried to escape, but the security guard followed after her.

"I gotta write you up for this," he said, stepping in front of her. "I'll need to see your student I.D."

Trembling hands brought her bag before her. She fumbled around inside as she tried her damnedest to keep it together. After finding the card, she dropped it twice before freeing it from the bag. There, she saw her own photo, but it wasn't the stoic head shot. It was a black and white photo of herself bound and half-conscious. His voice barked at her. Max struggled for all her drug-addled body would allow. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't break through the tape. She couldn't keep him away. The needle pressed to her neck.

"Calm down! I'm trying to help!"

Reality snapped back. Max was back at Blackwell, curled up on the ground kicking at a Blackwell security officer. The consuming panic barely abated, though she did have the presence of mind to stop trying to kick him.

The officer held his hands up, slowly approaching. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Maxine, I promise."

Max's mind continued to race, unable to hold onto a single thought for more than a moment, but she managed to nod. Breaths came in heavy and each inhale made her pounding heart hurt. When the officer bent down and held out a hand, she flinched away. She sat up on her own, tightly clutching her arms around herself.

To the security guy's credit, he kept his distance. "I just want to make sure you're okay," he said, his tone soft. "Did you take anything today?"

Of course, the first thing he thought was that she was on drugs. The fact that she had taken a bit of Xanax aside, it was still an insulting leap of logic. Max shook her head. "F-flashbacks," she muttered. Her eyes deliberately closing, she exhaled a shuddering breath.

The guard knelt down by her, a healthy gap between them, as he held out her I.D. "Here."

Max reached out to take it, her hand trembling so much that she could only just hold onto it. Voice failing her, Max just nodded, hoping to get the sentiment of "thanks" across. At least her heart's violent tattoo abated enough that it no longer thumped her chest with pain on each beat. It felt like she could breathe better, too.

He just knelt there a minute before leaning back and fully sitting down. "Do you need me to call someone for you or…?"

She gave her head a tight, quick shake. An attempt to accent it with a "no" died in her tight throat, leaving as little more than a whimper. And so they sat in an uncomfortable silence only broken by the sounds of birds and squirrels and Max's erratic breathing for what felt like hours. Finally, the episode seemed to recede enough for her to actually speak. "I-I think I'm okay, now."

"Are you sure?" the security guard asked, his gaze scanning her for any deception.

A firm nod, and Max launched herself forward and to her feet. "Yes." Not daring to take so much as a glance at her I.D., she tucked it into her bag with honed muscle memory. "And, sorry. I, uh, I didn't mean to kick you or anything." Her arms found themselves around her again.

The security guy got up, a sluggish climb compared to Max's rise. He patted himself off, though he kept his eyes securely fixed on Max's face. "Panic attack, huh? Guess it makes more sense than a bad trip," he said, scratching at his neck. "Never seen someone sober up that quick. I'll let the kicks pass, but I still gotta write you up for messing with that thing." He pointed up at Tobanga for emphasis.

"Thanks," Max muttered, ducking her head a bit as she turned and retreated toward the dorms. The moment she found a water fountain, she reached inside her bag and found the remains of her Xanax. Part of her felt angry that the pill didn't ward off her episode, but another thought tore at her. Frank said it might not be enough just to use a quarter.

Did you help at all?

The little yellow pill said nothing.

Trembling hands fumbled with the pill for a few moments before it fell into the water fountain. Her heart seized in her chest as it bounced toward the drain. She fumbled after it with her clumsy hands, but couldn't catch it before it hit the drain. By some miracle, it landed perpendicular to the grate, only teetering on the brink of the abyss.

Max silently told herself not to fuck this one up as she reached with shaky hand after the tablet. Somehow, her klutzy fingers took hold of the pill, rescuing it from falling into the drain. No longer trusting her hands, she brought the tablet to her mouth. The grooves separating the pill into sections easily fit into her teeth, and she bit a piece off before washing it down with a spray from the fountain. It still seemed to catch in her throat a bit, but it didn't bother her as much as last time.

Down to just half a pill, Max tucked the Xanax into her bag before heading toward the stairwell. With her episode well-enough behind her, her mind trailed back to the conversation she had with Tobanga—or whatever its name really was. Could she really just recreate a photo from her memory and use it to go back? But even if she went back, how could she possibly stop the storm from wiping out all of Arcadia Bay?

The doe's words echoed in her head, "With your strength, there is never too much to ask for."

"But how?"

Her train of thought derailed as her phone went off. "This again?" Pulling out her phone, she found her dad to be the one calling this time. "Shit."

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the line as she headed into the stairwell. "Hi, Dad."

"Max! Your mother and I have been trying to get a hold of you for like 20 minutes!" Ryan's voice admonished from the other end of the line.

Did it ring during her episode? She couldn't remember. "Sorry. I was… distracted." Close enough to the truth.

"Your mother told me what you said, and we agree that we cannot just leave you there in Arcadia Bay by yourself. I will drive down to pick you up tomorrow. If you really feel like you don't want to attend Blackwell anymore… we can discuss that at length at home."

"No!" Max refused. "Just… How about Sunday? Can you wait until Sunday to pick me up?"

"Why Sunday?"

"I just… there are a couple of loose ends I need to tie up before I go, okay? I'm not even gonna ask for a week. Just two nights."

Max heard her dad sigh before replying, "I'll talk to your mother."

"Thanks, Dad. But I really gotta go. There's… there's a lot to take care of."

"I love you, Max."

"Love you, too. Bye."