A/N: Hi there! So in case you haven't been reading this for the last couple hours and don't feel like re-reading everything but still need a reminder of what the hell was going on here, I made up this "short" summary as a helper (in my head it's shorter because I speak really fast so just read it in my fast voice, okay? No, don't, that's awful, SORRY).
Max is grieving over Chloe's death, she goes to see Warren, ends up crying and falling asleep on him. She starts dreaming of Chloe, and every night they'll have conversations. She also finds out through Kate about what's been going on, since she has no memories of this timeline or what she (or, as she likes to put it "Substitute Max") has been doing. Max and Warren go ape but there's a blackout at the drive-in and they end up talking about Jefferson who apparently may walk out free at any time now and Nathan's dad is saying that Chloe shot herself. Or something. At school, Max meets the new teacher and gets homework she solves by taking pics of Dana, then she gets super high and goes to a party with her. Next thing she knows, she's waking up in Warren's bed with no memories at all, and Warren retells what he knows of the night for her, including a weird episode of her locking herself in a closet - but avoids mentioning she made out with Trevor, which she later finds out through Dana. Once more, she dreams of Chloe, who apparently has all the answers, or so she says.
Of course, there's a bunch of things missing here and I have a longer summary I originally wrote but figured it was too much. If for some reason you're interested in reading that instead first, message me.
Now enjoy!
Sweat. Weed. Beer and cigarettes. Maybe even vomit. I can't tell anymore, every smell comes in and out of my nose as if I were the one taking all that in. Am I? The paranoid feeling has only started to stem in the darkest spots of my mind, but I'm not about to let it grow. Come on, Max. Have some fun. Be a Wendy's girl.
Somewhere under the awful pop music, Trevor's speaking, his face almost uncomfortably close to mine. I can't hear any word he says, so I just keep nodding and adding 'yeah's and 'I know's every now and then, because you can only ask "what?" so many times before looking like a complete idiot. I don't think he's dancing, but I couldn't say for sure because my mental viewfinder is having a hard time focusing on only one subject. As for me… I don't know what I'm doing. Can shifting your weight from one foot to the other with no rhythm at all be called dancing? Is that even my body? It feels more like a… what are they called? Out-of-body experience, that's it. But those are Trevor's hands I'm feeling round the small of my back.
I'm about to make out the lyrics to this song when it comes to an abrupt end and Trevor's voice is all of a sudden too loud.
"... and I really like you."
"I know… wait, what?" I blink, slowly and dizzily, but it's still a blink.
"I said I like you." He's probably laughing at whatever face I'm making. "You're super fun… and super hot."
"And you're super high."
There's another awful tune already playing, one of those with way too many "woah"s, and Trevor leans into my ear before speaking.
"I've been dying to kiss you all night." His breath is ticklish on my neck, in a good way.
Wait, my hands are resting on his shoulders. When did they even get there? Was it for balance purposes or was it something else?
"There's plenty of better reasons to die for", someone very cocky who's taken over my voice says into his ear.
I feel his lips press softly against my neck. Alright, this might be a good moment for me to shut up.
"Like what?"
Another, deeper kiss right under my earlobe and my knees knock clumsily against each other.
"Like…" What are words, anyway? My mind is made out of misshaped ideas and some dancing lights. His lips are on my right cheek. "Fuck it."
I close my eyes along with the remaining distance between his mouth and mine. It doesn't take long before his tongue makes its way to meet mine, though I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do about it. You said I should be more like you. Is this what you did at parties? You said I shouldn't give a fuck. Look at me, no fucks given. It's not even good. It's slippery and wet and his teeth have just clanked hitting mine. Did you hear that? Is that even supposed to happen? I can't move my hands, I think they got stuck in his hoodie. You said… you said those moments between us were real. But they're not ours. I can't breathe. His face is too hot and my lips are numb. Fuck you, Chloe.
"Shhh… keep that to yourself."
I open my eyes wide and find I'm lying on the floor, surrounded by nothing but white. My wrists are still paralyzed, but because they are bound tightly with duct tape. There, by my feet, Jefferson's crouching with his shiny shoes and a camera for a head. I try and kick him, but it feels more like trying to move a corpse from the inside. Like I'm just a powerless ghost inside a carcass.
"You're not going to get away that easy. We can talk more after class."
The sound of his voice drives me to twist my body harder, over and over again, until my right foot breaks free and hits him. Or at least it hits something hard that sends a current of pain so strong it instantly wakes me up. Shit. I can already tell that's gonna hurt even more tomorrow. I try to reach down, but there's something still gripping my calves. One more violent shake and I hear wood cracking and glass shattering. I'm free but I can't breathe. I push myself up, the dirt, pieces of glass and who knows what else scratching the palms of my hands, bring my knees to the sides of my face and put my head down. I've realized if I do this in time, I can sometimes avoid the throwing up part. And then I wait. And wait. With each second that goes by, I manage to send a bit more and more of air to my lungs, steadying the raising and falling of my chest. But my heartbeat just keeps getting louder and louder.
No. That's not my heartbeat. That's the train.
Wait, what?
I breathe in once more and raise my head from my knees. The nautious smells of an old party are still here, and now I understand why. I reach for the edge of the chair to my right to help me stand, but the moment I push it, it falls to the ground. I'll have to do this by myself then. I turn my body to the left, rest my full weight on my knees then my left foot, and finally the right one, though that heel is pretty week after having lost a match against that rusty piece of metal. I limp my way out to the deck, where the air is fresh, or as fresh as it can be in a junkyard. And that air is freezing-ass cold, brought to you by Arcadia Bay's shitty weather patterns.
Okay, let's work this out. Last night it was… Sunday. I know for a fact I did not go to any parties, nor did I drink or smoke anything. But how the fuck did I end up here? Did I come on my own? I'm wearing my own clothes, which is a good sign, though now they're stuck to my body, damp in sweat, and I'm shivering so bad I don't think I can stand straight for much longer. A high-pitched squeal from what I hope is a rat makes me jump and trip against something with my good foot, a something that rolls a few feet away and comes back, as if mocking me in the face. Fucking bottles. I need to get down from here. I pat my pockets but my phone is nowhere to be found, so I'll have to do my best to walk through the dark.
I take all the time in the world, my toes from both feet now barely standing my own weight, and climb down the old rusty ship. I can still hear the train in the distance. If it's already making its daily rounds, then it must be pretty late… or actually, pretty early on Monday. The sky is just plain purple, there's still a big bunch of stars splattered across it, and I wish I knew more about them to have any clue on how close it is to sunrise. I'm sure Warren would know the exact time by now.
I gather all the cold air I can in my lungs.
"H-hello?", I shout out and my voice breaks in my dry throat.
No one replies back, though I may have scared a few birds or rodents. It seems I'm freezing my ass on my own, so I'd better get moving.
I'm reaching the hideout but I stop when I see something that stands out in the dark. Right in front of the door, there's a strip of police tape that's been torn off and is now lying on the ground. Part of it is tangled around a piece of glass someone must have used to cut it off. Thinking about other people invading their safe haven makes me mad. I step over the tape and enter Chloe and Rachel's cave. I can barely see anything in here and the police officers have probably ransacked the place anyway, but I'm counting on them not doing their job right. This place was already a mess to begin with, they must have missed something.
I drag my feet through the mats on the floor, always staying close to the wall to my left, until I bump into one of the board the girls used as a seat. I crouch down and reach blindly underneath it, but find nothing. I keep crawling and stretching my arm as far as possible under each board, can and box I come across until, behind a big brick, my fingers encounter a soft piece of fabric. Bingo. I pull it out. I'm not sure whose this is, all that matters to me right now is that it's dry. I lay it on the small table and shiver as I take off my hoodie, my dampened tee and bra, holding my breath all the while, as if doing that could keep me warm. The new-found top has a low neckline that lets my head go through without a problem, though it doesn't do anything for my cold chest. I now put my hoodie back on, and zip it up to the top. I know I should take my clothes too, but it's not like I can casually carry them around all the way back, so I'm guessing it's goodbye for now, Jane Doe.
A gust of wind hits my face as I step out of the hideout, but at least my body stands a better chance against it this time. Maybe I should stay here, or at least wait till the sun comes out. But… that would also mean coming back to Blackwell in the daytime, when people could actually see me. No, I need to leave, now. I start walking down the train tracks. Why didn't Chloe say anything about this? Was this part of the plan? Because I really don't see how it relates to anything. Or was this just… me? Why can't I remember? Why do I keep forgetting? Why am I getting used to feeling this way? And… is that the sound of another train?
The first time Chloe brought me to the junkyard, she mentioned she would occasionally hop on the moving train. If I did that, I'd be back in like… ten minutes? Probably even less. No, it's insane. There's no way I can manage to jump on a moving train. I'd probably fall and die on the tracks and make for a very nasty corpse that someone would have to then clean up - or maybe they would never even find me. Although… these trains don't even go that fast. And Chloe mentioned she and Rachel did that many times, and never even hurt themselves. But... I'm not like them. And I'm not even that far away. Maybe like a thirty minute walk.
It's coming. I need to decide. Maybe I can do it. Fuck it, I did worse than this during the storm, didn't I? And it wasn't because of my powers. I've got it, it's in me. I can do this. The light gets brighter and brighter and the train's heartbeat gets louder and louder along with mine. I can do this. I position myself in what I think is a safe distance to wait without being hit until I have my chance. It's here.
I start running with it, looking everywhere for an open crate, or something to hold onto. I see one, but I don't make it in time to jump. I wish Chloe was here to tell me what to do. But the train keeps going and I keep missing chances. My feet hurt like hell and it's not long till it's gone now. Come on, you can do this. Come on.
And then I hear it from behind me, as clear as the squealing of wheels.
"Now!"
I have about a split second to decide whether I'll turn around and look for her or jump. And I jump. I'm moving, I can't believe I actually did it! Still crouching on the floor, I pop my head out and look back, but there's nothing to see but trees by the tracks. That Orpheus and Eurydice myth Warren was talking about comes to mind for a second, but I'm too exhausted to understand why.
I rest my body on my left side and stare at the sky, its shade of purple now a bit lighter than when I first woke up, I believe. Once the sun starts going up, it'll brighten up the town in a matter of minutes, which I'm not looking forward to. But I'm not that far by now. Just need to stay awake. Warren's game would do me some good now, if I actually had someone else to play it with. Maybe if I try and remember his answers. Penny. An astronaut. November something. Dysentery Graham. That last one makes me chuckle. I wonder why my mind keeps going back to him so much. I wonder what he thinks of me now. I wonder if he thinks of me at all. He didn't seem at all bothered that night.
That night. Why was I kissing Trevor? Why was he kissing me? I think at some point I may have kissed Dana too. But she hasn't been texting me three times a day like he has. What does that even mean anyway?
It's been a few minutes now, and I catch a glimpse of the Main Square. And I realize the idea of jumping off the train is even scarier than climbing on top of it. But I know the answer. Don't think, just jump. And before I have time to plan it through, I'm flying through the air and then landing with very little elegance on the ground. My right ankle is sore from the fall and from the earlier match in the junkyard, but other than that I'm surprisingly fit. The most annoying pain right now is in my palms. I raise them to examine them under the streetlights, and notice there's multiple cuts on both of them. I should wash that off as soon as I get back.
Blackwell is only around the block, and as I walk through the empty parking lot I remember Kate talking about how they'd gotten all serious about security now. This must have been about the sixth time I got out at night and nobody's seen me or stopped me. Security my ass. There's not a soul awake at this hour. I get into the dorms, climb up the stairs and head to the restrooms. My skin stings under the water, but luckily the cuts are not that deep really.
I'm drying my hands carefully with paper towels when I hear the door burst open. I turn around and see her, her look just as surprised to find me there. Victoria is wearing a delicate peach two-piece pajama, but her eyes are puffy, her nose is pink, and her lips are dark and swollen. She doesn't even try to hide it because she's too busy taking a good look at my appearance too, which I now remember might be thriller-worthy. I'm not sure if it's plain noisiness or actual concern, but I really want to ask her what's wrong. Then I remember that, if there's something I've learnt by now, it's I shouldn't try and be friends with Victoria Chase. It only leads to her being dead.
I continue to dry my hands as if she weren't there at all. Victoria walks in and washes hers the same way. I even hear her whimper very quietly as she splashes some of that water on her face. I can't. I won't. There's a spot on my left hand, right in the cuticle of my middle finger, where it won't stop bleeding. I continue to press it and dry it mechanically until Victoria's voice says something I don't catch.
"What?" I ask, and turn to look at her. She's leaning on the sink, staring at my hands.
"I said, that looks like shit. You should disinfect it before your fingers swell with pus."
"Uhm, thanks for your concern, but it's really not that bad, just a few cuts."
"A few cuts…" She echoes as she walks closer to me. "You should at least put some vaseline on it."
"It's okay, I… don't think I have any."
Victoria takes a long look at me and then sighs.
"Ah, I'm gonna regret this. I've got a first aid kit in my bedroom, come with me."
"No, really, you don't have to…"
"I don't, but I will anyway."
She doesn't wait for me as she leaves the restroom, and I don't believe she's asked for my opinion on the matter anyway, she's just let me how things are about to go down. I guess I could let her give me the vaseline and just go our separate ways. I follow Victoria to her bedroom and close the door behind me. She's sitting on her bed, going through some things underneath her jewelry plates. It doesn't take me long to notice the wall next to her bed is empty. She's also taken down every image from her little selfie wall, and they're now scattered all over the floor, some of them crumbled up, some of them torn into pieces.
"Here it is," she says as she takes out a little jar from her vinyl red pouch. She's not handing it out to me, so I'm guessing she's expecting me to go get it. As I walk towards her, she opens the jar. "Sit." I do as I'm told and sit by her side. Her trash can is right next to the bed, and it's full of crumpled pieces of paper, half of them possibly tissues. "Give me your hand." I don't even know why I keep pleasing her, but I comply. "Shit, Max, you've got a piece of glass here."
"I do?" I ask as she takes a pair of tweezers from the pouch.
"What the hell were you doing?"
"I… I was just- ouch!" I moan as she pulls out the tiny intruder. "What happened to your selfie wall?"
Victoria stops for a second, then proceeds to discard the piece of glass inside her trash can.
"I don't take selfies," she simply replies and hands me the vaseline jar. "Put this over the deepest cuts."
I cover the wounds with the vaseline, which feels cool and smooth on my aching skin, and then she hands me a bandage. Putting it on myself proves to be almost impossible, so she does it for me. I'm not surprised at all the skin of her hands is so soft, the complete opposite of mine right now. She moves the bandages around in a very delicate way, and it makes me think she must be very skilled at crafting or cooking, or some other hidden talent of hers.
Victoria finishes up and looks at me, expectantly, but I'm not sure what she wants.
"This… this was nice of you," I finally say, holding my hands up.
"It was," she agrees, though now she's looking to the side. "Now leave."
I get up and walk to the door, careful not to step on her pictures. One of them stands out from the rest because of the happy grin she's showing, one that I've never seen her wear in real life.
I take one last look at her before leaving the bedroom. Victoria is quickly putting all her things away, and picking up some of the crumbled pieces of papers on the way. I can add "Victoria nursing me" at the top of the list of weird shit of the night.
"But you went to the museum by yourself? Wasn't that like, lame?"
"No, actually, I met this guy at the gallery, ah, I need to show you his website. He showed me around and he knew so much about the city and everything. Plus, he took these pics of me that are totally fabulous but also so deep, 'cause he's kinda like a poet too, you know? So some of his photos have like, so much emotion, but he also does high fashion stuff. It's like everyone in San Fran has like deeper layers combined with a great sense of style, you would love it."
"Totally."
I zone out of Victoria's monologue as I stare down at my hands. My wounds haven't healed much, but at least they haven't gotten worse. I hate to say it, but she was right, they were pretty bad. I could even say I'm only capable of holding a pencil or taking pictures right now because of her. But why she did that, I wouldn't know. Thinking about it seems as pointless as attending class, as everything else I do when I can only think about Chloe's words. It's only four more days now, but it feels like an eternity.
I spot Kate walking into the classroom. She is about to put her bag down by her usual desk, but then she smiles at me.
"Hey, Max. Do you mind if I sit by your table today?"
"Not at all."
She picks up the chair she was about to sit on and carries it so that she can sit on the side of my desk. I hear a strange silence and turn my head, Victoria has finally stopped talking and is following Kate with her eyes. As soon as they meet mine, she turns away and quickly goes back to her conversation.
"So how was your weekend?" Kate asks as she lays her pencil case in front of her.
"It was… fine." Finding something actually worth sharing is harder than I thought. "My mom keeps sending me pictures of stuff she's bought for the house, like these dinosaur jack-o-lanterns I raved about last year. It's something we used to do together, decorating for Halloween."
"That's sweet. Is she trying to lure you back?" Kate's opened her notebook and is now doodling something.
"It's all part of her master plan. That and the emails about photography schools in Seattle some unnamed friend of hers has casually recommended."
"I see." For a few moments, she's either deep in thought or too concentrated in her pen and paper to speak. "You know, it's actually funny. My mom only messages me to ask me if she can give away some of the things I have in the house. She's stopped, lately. But only the asking part, according to Sam she's still getting rid of many things."
I wonder what kind of person Kate's mom is. The kind of person who would push their child away because something awful was done to her.
"That sucks" is all I can think of saying right now.
"Yeah. But what I mean is… I think you're lucky. Your mom seems to really want you there with her." Kate then catches sight of what I'm still holding in my hands. "Oh, did you get a subject for your project in the end?"
"Ah, yes." I place the enlarged prints of my two polaroids on the table.
I call them 'Baked Dana in the evening' and 'Hangover Dana in the morning' but I keep those titles to myself.
"Oh, these are so nice!" She puts her notebook aside and I see she's been sketching pines. "You did a wonderful job, really. I bet Miss Rhodes will be impressed."
"Ah… sure," I say and Kate's pencil stops before it gets to hit the paper.
"You don't really like her, do you?"
"I like her as a photographer. She's got a nice style."
"Is that it?"
"There's just something about her that reminds me too much of-"
I'm cut short by Miss Rhodes herself entering the classroom, and I automatically bring my prints closer to me, maybe almost protectively. The motion seems to attract her eyes to the pictures and she shoots me a smile.
"Good morning everyone, I hope you've had a nice long weekend. And that some of you took some time to experiment with some of what we've been talking about." She holds her glasses in place, scanning the room. "Does anyone want to start off by sharing something?"
I take a glance at my classmates, but everyone's looking at the floor, or the ceiling, or anywhere but the teacher's gaze, which clearly means no one is going to step forward. I slowly raise my hand.
"I… have some pictures." I shrug as I say this. Just some pictures. No big deal.
"That's great, Maxine- Max," she corrects herself and collects the prints from my desk. "This is interesting. Who would like to begin?"
There's another absolute silence as she walks around the classroom holding the images for everyone to see. And this is actually more unbearable than I thought it would be.
"Two pictures of a popular cheerleader in her underwear. At least you know how to gain attention." The first remark comes from Taylor, and strangely Victoria is not laughing her quirky laugh with her.
"I like that", to my surprise, Daniel says. "It's like she's stripped-down from all the usual bling and make-up, yet her beauty shines through."
"She's fucking gorgeous," Hayden adds.
"So I'm guessing you all know this girl-"
"Dana."
"Thank you, Taylor. Dana must be pretty popular then. So, what stories are these pictures telling? Is it the same story?"
"Yes." Victoria speaks up. "And no. I don't think I know that Dana. I know cheery, dancing, party Dana and she's definitely there. That girl with no make-up and no confidence… She's pretty, but I don't know her."
"Yeah, I like the lighting on that one." Taylor quickly adds. "It's, uhm, like more aesthetic or something."
"Backlighting is always my favourite." Kate says from my right. "The glowy outline around the shape of her, I think it's breathtaking."
"I agree it's a good result. It could have turned out too harsh with the front speedlight, but it works in a very flattering way. Her expression is clearly the focus here. What did you see in it, Max?"
"I, uhm… I was thinking…" I stare into Dana's eyes in the picture as they look aside, her lips parted, her shoulders slouching. "I thought she looked… lost. Different. Kinda like what… Victoria said. Not the Dana I know."
Agreeing with Victoria is never not painful. It feels like I've switched back to Nightmare Timeline every time I open my mouth to say anything remotely close to that, which seems to be happening a lot lately. Miss Rhodes does not elaborate much further on the images, but she does look at least pleased with them. She only goes back to 'Hangover Dana in the morning' to discuss what Kate said about the lighting and add further examples of different kinds of light sources and direction of light.
The hour goes by quickly and this time I'm ready to leave the classroom as soon as we are dismissed, no time to be held back with any special assignments. Kate soon catches up with me and we head down to the cafeteria towards what has now become our usual table. Come to think of it, it's probably the first time I have a ritual of this kind here in Arcadia Bay, or...at all. I spot Warren from the distance, and my thoughts are already racing. This will be our first time talking since that morning. I hate feeling this awkward around him, especially since before last Thursday I was feeling anything but. As we get closer, I notice he's talking to someone.
"Is that… Luke?" I recognize the back of his cap.
He's standing by the table, where he's laid his tray so he can take notes on his phone of something Warren is explaining to him. I catch some of it as Kate and I approach them.
"If you do it right, you should get a medium-sized blow with no fireworks."
"Got it. But where do I get that sodium shit?"
"Sodium chlorate. It's a weed killer," I reply and both boys turn their heads back so fast you would think we should call an exorcist. "What are you two planning to blow up?"
"Ah, Max. Nothing, it's, um, for a friend." Luke finishes typing on his phone and picks up his tray. "Thanks, guys."
"Anytime." Warren waves at him, though Luke's already gone.
"Did he leave because of us?" Kate asks as we take a seat.
"Nah, I think he just can't wait to go bust some shit up." Warren turns in his seat opposite to us and looks at me. "By the way, how did you know that?"
"We've already agreed on me being a pyro, don't look so surprised." I'd almost feel bad about lying, but that look he's got of half-proud/half-disappointed is one of my favourites.
"Well… I'd always figured you'd come to me for the brainy part of your crimes. You know, I'd be the Brain, you'd be the… the…"
"The Camera," Kate adds. "Shooting subjects from the shadows so she can blackmail them later."
I'm almost shocked by the accuracy of her comment.
"And you'd be the Spy," I point at her with my fork. "The innocent-looking girl who turned out to be the Evil Mastermind."
"Wait, if Max's already the Camera and the Brain, and you're the Mastermind, does that mean you guys would ditch me?"
"You could always be the… the…" Now Kate's the one out of words.
"The cool t-shirts guy," I suggest, looking down at his ESC key top. "Always in geeky style."
"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have neglected my GPA." Warren huffs and takes a dramatic bite at his first nugget.
"How is that coming along?"
"Better, hopefully. I talked to Miss Grant today, she said I could use the lab after lunch to work on this extra assignment, while you guys would be working on 'an important project', as she put it."
"You'll do great!" I say too fast, and he shoots me a weird look. Even he can tell I'm trying too hard. "And you mentioned another project? I'm already behind on so much homework."
"I can lend you a hand with that, if you want." Kate smiles her sympathetic half-smile.
"You see? The Brain is not needed here at all."
"We could have a study group." She adds quickly and looks at Warren intently. "Then we can all make the best of our abilities to help each other."
"But in reality it's a secret crime organization, I like where this is going."
"Oh well, I tried." Kate shrugs and Warren just chuckles, then turns back to me.
"Hey, by the way, we need to talk." His expression has changed so drastically I haven't caught up with it yet.
"What about?"
"You know what. I didn't wanna do this in front of Kate, but… You've been avoiding it like a champ."
"Uhm… I'm really lost here." I eye Kate to my left, she's chewing on her lunch as if it were popcorn at the movies.
"I know it's embarrassing by now, but I'd say you owe me an explanation. I've been nice and patient, and I believe I deserve it."
"An… explanation?"
"Fine... If you give it back to me today, I'll shut up about it, no questions asked."
"Give it back?"
"My flashdrive, of course. You've had it like a year."
For like a split second we share a look and then I blink.
"Oh. Oh, shit. Your flash. I never gave that back to you."
"Nope." Warren shakes his head. "And you know how much I treasure it."
"You'll have it back before the end of the week, I promise."
"You'd better. You two must have had some pretty sweet times together."
"I haven't watched all of the films, but 'Faster, Pussycat…'"
"You can tell me about it later." Warren suddenly gets up. "I gotta get ready for class, so I'll see you."
"Okay…" I watch him pick up his tray and leave maybe even faster than Luke did before. I turn to Kate, but she looks just as confused as I am. "Don't you think that was…"
I don't get to finish that sentence because a hand landing on my shoulder makes me jump, literally jump on my chair.
"Hi, Max. Sorry, did I scare you?" Trevor pulls back as if he's just touched a flame.
"Hey, Trevor." I find it physically impossible to look him in the eye, so I focus on my tray… which is empty already. I don't even remember eating all my lunch. I hear him exchange greetings with Kate and look up when he takes Warren's place.
"I see Dana wasn't kidding about your big case of munchies," Trevor says. "She mentioned you ate more than half the pizza you guys ordered. I think she was jealous, 'cause where do you even put all that?"
"I… don't know." I look around, curious to compare my appetite with others', the same way I would compare my running speed in gym class . And no, everybody else's trays are half-full but Trevor's, which is nonexistent. "You're not having lunch?"
"Nah, I'm heading to the park with Justin, so we'll grab a bite there. Just wanted to pop by to see if you wanted to join us after class, we'll be doing some cool stunts, and Dana will surely be there too."
The image of Trevor epically failing a tre-flip is still fresh on my mind, but it's not something I'm in the mood for today. He's looking at me expectantly and my brain's awfully slow at coming up with an excuse.
"Uhm, sorry, but I already told Kate I'd be helping her with… a project." I turn to her and, to my surprise, Kate nods immediately.
"Oh yes, it's an English and Literature thing," she explains. "Mrs. Hoidas has just got back and it seems she's really missed checking pages and pages of homework… And Max always has great ideas when it comes to writing."
"Yeah, I've noticed you're always with that journal of yours."
"You have?" Since when did he even notice I exist, let alone have a journal?
"It's hard not to. You look like you're in a different world when you write. Like an old-school version of people with smartphones."
"Right."
Trevor continues with his efforts to make conversation which are strangely successful. He tells us about this park Justin and him have been frequenting since Principal Wells has forbidden skateboarding in campus after a minor incident involving Justin, a noseslide and Alyssa. He expresses his sympathy over her, but he's unable to hold back a smile when he describes how the skateboard drove her several feet away. Even though he's talking to Kate too, he makes eye contact with me most of the time, and I think I've never spent this much time breathing the same air as him. Well, not that I remember anyway, since his memories from last Thursday are obviously clearer than mine.
But if he had noticed me before… then I guess I am in a different world when I write. I never thought anyone actually saw me, much less someone like Trevor. But what does that even mean, someone like him? All I can think about is that he's good to Dana, but that's not true anymore. I used to think he was cute, but there's nothing I find appealing about him right now, maybe because of the memory of the not-so-enjoyable clacking of teeth and dramatic drool intrusion.
I'm not really following the story he's telling right now, but he cuts it short when the bell announces lunchtime is over. The three of us stand up and Trevor walks with us as we take our trays to the closest counter.
"Ah, Justin is gonna be on my ass all day," he says as he checks his phone and waits for me to turn to him. "Anyway… I had a great time the other night. You should come hang out with us soon."
"I'll… thanks." I nod but he's still standing there, waiting for something else.
Just so that he won't come up with a friendlier way to say goodbye, I wave lamely at him in what probably looks like slow motion and show him the least-awkward smile I can pull right now, which he returns enthusiastically. Kate also waves at him as he walks away and I turn to her pressing my lips.
"Sorry about that before, and thank you."
"Thank you, Max, because you are going to help me with my English project." She smiles and I really believe she could be the evil mastermind of our secret crime organization. "Come to my dorm after class?"
"Sure thing."
"I already got us cookies."
Evil mastermind indeed.
That lunch break was way more stressful than I was hoping. I wish I had some time out to myself, but judging from what Warren said, I can't miss this class. I enter the lab through the back door, the less intimidating approach. It's already half full, but Warren's place is still empty, and so is the place next to him. I figure a little distraction won't hurt my 'super important project', plus maybe I could get some help from Dr. Graham.
"Hey Max" A soothing voice that can only belong to Daniel calls me.
"Hi, Daniel. Thank you for your comments on my pictures today."
"I was only speaking from the heart. You really showed us a side of Dana that is tragically beautiful."
"I'm… glad?"
"Of course. I feel like your talent really shone through, you recognized the right moment and you seized it, in the best possible way."
As he's finishing that sentence, his eyes trail to the door. Brooke has just walked in, so I walk around Daniel to hide myself behind him. Very mature, Max.
"And I think your drawings are getting better by the day." I would mention I've been screenshotting them, but that might make me sound like a stalker. "That portrait of Rachel you uploaded was beautiful."
"It moves me you would say that." He says and I bow my head a little as Brooke walks down the classroom. "Are you trying to hide from someone?"
"No, I…" She's just sat right next to Warren's usual seat. Damn it. "Can I sit here?"
"Of course."
Mrs Grant soon starts the class talking about the new project. Warren was right. Where is he? He said he was coming to the lab early. But maybe he was lying. Or omitting information, like when we talked about the party. But that was complete bullshit. And it makes me feel weird. And not remembering about what happened, or how it happened or why it happened makes me feel weirder. Why, why, why.
Warren then pretty much stumbles into the classroom, mumbling some 'sorry's and carrying a tray full of tubes and jars. He does make eye contact with me, but it's only for like a second and then he goes to his table and hands some of the items he's brought over to Brooke. So they're working together, okay.
Usually, we would be sitting together on a class we share. Usually, we would already be trading jokes or he would be speaking to me nonstop about his last raid. Usually, if we were not sitting together, we'd probably be texting each other, but that hasn't been the case. There's nothing usual about this.
Then I notice Daniel staring in the same direction as me. Or almost the same direction. His eyes are pinned to the back of Brooke's head, even following the movements of her big fluffy ponytail. He soon realizes I caught him staring, shrugs and does his best to listen to what Mrs Grant is saying.
So I try to do the same.
I'm walking through the hallway when I hear a bittersweet melody, one that I know very well, yet I cannot remember the name of. Kate is playing the violin. This brings a much-needed smile to my face, and I slow down my pace following rhythm of the song, just so I can enjoy it for a little longer. I can guess each note before she plays it, it's the fourth tune in the set she always used to practice in the afternoon. Sometimes I would leave my door open just to listen to it while doing my homework or writing on my journal, it was the perfect soundtrack for any task. Then one day it started becoming choppy, she would mess up over and over again on the same songs she used to play so perfectly, until she stopped completely.
'Salut d'amour', that's the name. I'd missed it. It may just give me the strength I need to get through these four days.
I stop at her door and knock. The mesmerizing melody is replaced by the sound of quick footsteps.
"Oh great, you're here!" Kate says as she opens the door. Her hair is not in the usual bun, but in a loose braid that frames the right side of her face.
"Yes, all ready for this… Literature thing." I walk in and quickly eye for a place where I can put down my bag.
"Good." She smiles and takes the violin case off the couch. "You can sit here if you like. Sorry about the mess..."
"It's okay, you should see my room." I watch her race towards a pile of papers and quickly throw them inside a drawer, not caring if some of them are still sticking out of it.
"Okay, now." Kate brings me plate of cookies she'd left next to Alice's cage. "I have these, as promised."
"We're sure off to a great start."
The cookies have the right amount of chocolate chips and crunchiness, surely the best not-homemade cookies I've ever tried. Or maybe I'm just really hungry.
There's another pile of papers on Kate's desk, which she scatters around the floor as she sits on her rug. Her handwriting is always impeccable, even if it's just notes she's going through. She pulls aside one paper and then takes a cookie for herself.
"Thanks for coming. I just need to write about three pages but I find it so daunting."
"Sure, how can I help?"
"Well… it's not the writing itself." Kate is tugging at the edge of the rug, her eyes fixed on her fingers. "It's just every time I sit down to try to do it, I start thinking about my sisters, and my mom, and… other things. I message them, or go on facebook or you know, do anything but actually write."
"Okay. So, discipline and focus. Got it."
"It's dumb, I know, but if you're here with me…"
"If it makes you feel better, it's not dumb. Besides, I could use you checking on me too. I haven't been that good at keeping up with my homework either."
"Quid quo pro then. I like it."
"Unless you wanna talk about it."
"I… I'm not sure I do." I can see the tennis match playing inside her head as she's trying to decide. "I mean, I really need to get this homework done."
"I know, but… Maybe once you get the other things out of your head, it should be easier."
"Maybe, but… Well, what's on your head?"
"What?"
"It's easier for me to talk about things if I hear someone else talk about theirs."
"Well I… I don't know." There's many things in my mind, not many I could talk about.
"Hmm… How do you feel about Trevor asking you out?"
"You think he was asking me out?" I'm surprised to hear her say that, by shake my head. "Wait, you're diverting this conversation."
"He did sound very interested." She says, still scribbling something on her paper.
"It's just… it doesn't make any sense." I let my pencil run a line down the edge of the page. "I thought he would be more interested in someone like… Dana."
"You guys went to a party together last week, right? Maybe you made an impression on him."
"What kind of impression?" I ask more to myself and shudder at the thought of my dream… or memory. "I don't even remember most of it, and that makes me such an idiot."
No, saying that made me an idiot.
"I-I didn't mean it like… I was just talking about me, I would never think that of you."
"Max, relax, it's okay." Kate offers me a smile and her eyes trail down to my pencil, which now that I look at it, I realize I've stabbed my notebook with it. "But… if you would never think that of me, then why would you say it to yourself?"
"It's completely different." I slowly remove my pencil from the hole I created and draw small circles around it. "I chose to be an idiot that night. I really wanted it, that's what makes me one. I thought I could trade my grief or my concerns for normal kids' problems."
"Yeah, but that's not how it works, right? They just pile up."
"We're not normal kids anymore, are we?" I say.
"We're not even kids anymore."
We both chuckle at the idea but remain in silence for a long minute. I look away from Kate, only to meet the pointy ends of the papers she so desperately hid inside her drawer when I came in.
"That's what my mom said the last time we talked. 'You're not a kid anymore, I won't take responsibility for every one of your screw-ups.' Well, she used a different word, but you get the idea." Kate stretches her back as the words sink in. "But she's right. We need to own up to our mistakes."
"There's a big difference between making your own mistakes and having someone else cause you pain. Like I said, I blame myself for being an idiot. I don't blame myself for…"
It's hard to say it, because I'm lying. I'm trying to get my point through to Kate, but the whole point is bullshit. Kate slowly nods and looks back at the papers she was holding. Maybe she can see through me. She can see those words are too big to have come out of my own mouth without some tweaking and careful execution. Maybe I've disappointed her. I remember what she said this morning about her mom. What Warren said about her depression. What she said about...
"Oh shoot, I'm missing the paper on the motifs. I borrowed it to Alyssa, be right back."
Kate rushes to the door, and the minute she's out of the room, my eyes are lured back to the drawer. I lay my things on the couch and tiptoe my way to it, as if someone could actually hear me. As I open the drawer, some of the papers jump out and fall all over the floor. Not only had they been placed there carelessly, there doesn't seem to be enough room for the lot of them.
I crouch down and start picking them up, one by one. Some of them have been torn on the sides, she wasn't very careful about ripping them out of her sketchbook either. And they all have the same theme: Pines. Pines in pencil, in watercolor, in crayons. They all look unfinished, as if halfway through them Kate gave up, but still decided to try a new one, and another one. Except for one. There's not only pines on this one. There's also mountains. There's a lighthouse. And they all look small, insignificant. Rain in the shape of light gray drops is washing them away.
"Max." Her voice is so clear and emotionless yet it scares the living shit out of me.
"I'm sorry, I… I was curious." It's not like I ever have an actual excuse for snooping into other people's things. "These are really good."
"They're not." Kate shakes her head and kneels down to pick up the rest of the sheets. "I was trying what you said about putting it all down, laying it on the paper. And you were right, it was quite... an experience."
And then something happens.
"I remember. We were sitting at the table in the back. We were having tea and blueberry tart." It comes as such a revelation that I can't help but voice it.
"Yes. That was a heavenly tart."
It was. I remember the taste. Kate had her hair in her usual updo, her hands lacked the confidence to pick up that cup of tea without shaking, and she still had dark circles under her eyes. She was talking to Substitute Max, to me. I can even remember her exact words.
"I think it's the first time I ever considered it for real. Just for it to be all over." Her eyes were fixated on the dancing lights reflected in her tea. "And if only you knew them, Max. If you knew us. Before coming to Blackwell, I would spend every spare moment I had with Sam and Lynn. Every night reading them stories. I have this amazing 'One and One Thousand Nights' collection Dad got me for my birthday last year. We haven't finished it, of course." She paused to take a sip, still avoiding eye contact. "Telling them about this would kill them, but not telling them… makes it harder for me to talk about anything with them. But I'm not even sure what these feelings mean."
"Well, what if… what if you found another way to understand them?" I replied. "What if you poured your feelings on the page? Art always makes digesting things easier, right? So just open up your sketchbook for, let's say fifteen minutes, and see what happens, what comes out. Maybe you'll like it, maybe you'll hate it. But you can face it without having to think of the right words for it."
"You may be right." Her eyes finally meet mine, along with a smile. "Yeah, that sounds good, actually. I'll do my best."
It all comes rushing back and hits me like a train. It's the first time I remember something from that week. Hell, I even remember it was on Tuesday, and it was raining. But I don't seem to remember anything else from that day. It feels like… like I'm watching a movie. Like Friday morning, when Warren was telling me about…
"Oh fuck." I let it out as a second train bangs against my head and my knees fall to the ground.
"What?" Kate's right next to me but I can barely hear her with all the thundering inside my head.
"I wasn't drunk." I may even be smiling. "I mean, I was. I was high and drunk. But that's not the point. I didn't kiss Trevor. I mean, I did, but I didn't…"
It wasn't me. Of course it wasn't me.
My upper lip is ticklish, and I lick it. Blood, of course.
"Oh!" Kate grabs a box of tissues and hands me three at once. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm great. I get it now. I don't know how, or why now, but… I think I'm starting to get it."
"Get what?" Kate's eyes are taking on a life of their own.
"Everything. Well, not everything. Because even if it wasn't me, it was still me from here, or was it me from before?"
Kate is right, even if she didn't voice it. I know I sound insane. But it all makes sense now. At the party, I went into autopilot mode, Substitute Max mode. But why? And why are these other memories coming back now?
I clean up my face and as I look down, I notice some drops have fallen on Kate's picture.
"I'm so sorry." I reach to try and wipe it off with a clean tissue but she grabs my wrist.
"Wait."
Kate's staring down at the picture, and I do too. There's a small pool of blood underneath the pines, on the ground, and it keeps spreading slowly. I know these pines. I know these mountains, this lighthouse. And I know that rain and that blood all too well.
I hand the picture and the tissue to Kate. She looks at me, then at the red spot. She wraps the tissue a few times around her fingers and presses it very carefully against the paper. I watch the red creep its way into the tissue, but it never touches her skin.
"You know… I'm so happy you're here." I say. "I'm so happy that I… get to know you."
Kate continues to wipe the red stain, until there's nothing there but a subtle brownish spot that gets washed away by a single tear that falls just in the right spot. She raises her eyes towards me, they're already tearing all over her cheeks and towards her lips, which she's pressing tightly together. Until she can't anymore, and she parts them and I can hear what her pain sounds like. I crawl closer to her and wrap my arms around her. Kate also throws her arms around me, from underneath mine, like an anchor.
My calves are burning and my nose is still bleeding, but I don't let go. I now know why it was so easy to cry in Warren's arms. He never let go first.
It's finally Saturday. And even though I've been waiting for this day the whole week, I'm starting to get a bit nervous. I take out my camera and snap a selfie. I want to take all of it, this exact moment, this weather, this feeling, and just leave them inside that square.
Chloe's right. I'm ready.
I can feel the cold sweat under my armpits as I push the door. I try to take only short breaths, since the smell in here reminds me of the time I forgot my wet clothes inside my backpack and had to wash them twice before I could wear them again.
I make my way to the counter like she said, like I belong there. Well, not actually belong, but you know, know my way around it. Now I take a good deep breath, let that awful smell of sweat, weed, beer and cigarettes sink in only so I can keep my voice from trembling.
"I'm here to see Nathan Prescott."
A/N: So Merry Christmas! Hope you've enjoyed this little present! What do you mean it's late? Shit, I need to send my postcards already.
Anyway, I'd stopped writing because it stopped being fun for a while, so I went on to work on other projects. Of course, Max and Warren are always in my heart, and then back in November I FINALLY played Farewell (it took me a long time to let go!) and then of course I couldn't get it out of my head. Why now in January then, you ask? Winter break, that's why. And I actually loved writing this. Before I stopped last time, it got to the point where every time I uploaded a new chapter I was filled with anxiety, and now I can't even remember all of the worries I used to have about it. I'm sharing this because I had fun writing it, and maybe you guys will have fun reading it, and then I'd have more people to geek out with, so... yeah, that.
To answer an old but interesting question from the comments, I don't ship Pricefield, only Grahamfield. For me, Chloe and Max have more of a sisters thing going on, I've never seen them as a couple. Now Chloe and Rachel... that's a whole other story.
Despite the lack of updates here, 2018 was an amazing year for me and I hope it was just as good - or better - for you guys! I really appreciate all the comments and messages you've left, being overly supportive, telling me what you like about the story, asking for updates or if I'm still alive lol
If you've enjoyed this too, let me know. If you're still here from the beginning, or from two hours ago, thank you! If you've eaten cheesecake this week, I envy you! If you've also recently finished rewatching Buffy for the fifth time and want to cry with me, message me!
See you next year! (JOKING. I HOPE.)