Author's note: Yikes! This is a long chapter. By far the longest. Unfortunately I didn't get to edit it as much as I'd like, as I've run out of pre-written chapters, and I'm trying to stick with my one-chapter-a-day schedule. I wouldn't call this rushed, though. Enjoy!
Wednesday¸ October 16
Blackwell Academy.
There were two notable things during the drive from the hotel to the school. First, Max's mom hardly talked at all. After eighteen years of daughterhood, Max knew the amount of self-control it took to do that, when there were doubtless many things her mother wanted to say. Or maybe it was just parental anxiety over the wellbeing of her child.
Second, Max's dad talked a lot. He was normally a confident guy, silent in his self-assurance. Now he babbled- he talked about how good it was she was getting to study again, how they'd be nearby if anything happened, how Blackwell had stepped up security like five times. At some point Max tuned it out and her father ended up literally talking to himself.
Blackwell's brick-red walls broke through the trees and into view as they made the final turn, and the car pulled quietly into the parking lot. Max wasn't sure what she expected to feel, whether apprehension or a hopeful sort of excitement, or even that anger bubbling to the surface again.
But she didn't feel anything. Whatever high she'd been on since visiting Chloe's house had faded to a dull memory. A dull ache. Waking up in Chloe's clothes, in her room… now that all just seemed like one good day crammed between what would undoubtedly be many, many bad ones.
Between that and the whole journal mystery…
Chloe's necklace was still wrapped around her wrist, the bullets literally within hand's reach at any given time, and she gripped them now with a tight longing.
Nobody got out of the car for a whole minute, until her dad finally sighed and pulled himself out, moving to the trunk to unload Max's bags. Max and her mom followed suit, the cold October air blowing against Max's skin.
"Maxine… promise me you'll call us all the time," her mom said in hushed tones. There was a sudden urgency in her voice, all the pent-up worries pouring out. "If you ever feel bad or like you need to talk to someone, if someone ever says anything mean to you about… you know. And if you need anything at all. Okay?"
Max nodded repeatedly, until her mom pulled her into a tight hug.
"I know you can do this… but just in case. Be safe."
The three of them made their way across the school grounds toward the dormitories. A few students loitered about, all obviously dormers, getting ready for classes to resume the next day. Max wasn't sure what was more embarrassing: her classmates seeing her with her parents, or her parents seeing her classmates do double-takes as they caught sight of Max. Either way she wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there for years.
"Dad, I can carry those the rest of the way-"
"Nah, it's fine. Besides, I want to get a good look at your dorm."
The Prescott dormitories- though the little plaque that proclaimed it as such was vandalized beyond recognition. The good side of the "Blackwell spirit" (as Principal Wells liked to call it) finally seemed to be making a move, distancing itself from Nathan and his family.
Too little, too late. The red streak of sprayed-on paint across the Prescott name felt exactly like all those "We miss you, Kate" cards and messages. Hollow, sincere only in the aftermath of a traumatic event. Guilt-ridden.
The inside of the dormitory was warmer. Max dreaded seeing a bunch of dorm-mates loitering the hall, but instead saw something worse: a pair of adults hovering near her room's door.
Her parents made a beeline for both of them, and Max timidly followed suit behind.
"Ryan and Vanessa?" the older of the two adults, a tall gray-haired man, said. He was well-dressed. Old school but stylish. His voice followed suit- smooth, but a little too formal. He and Max's parents shook hands as he introduced himself. "I'm Principal Jeremy Thies. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. As I said on the phone, I'll be overseeing the school while the investigation is ongoing."
Max peered at him from behind her parents, wondering how temporary Thies' stay would be. He caught sight of her and their eyes locked. "And you must be Max." Her dad reached around to edge her forward gently. "Welcome back. And thank you for deciding to come back at all."
"Uh… no problem."
"I want you to know that we've taken every precaution to make sure you- and everyone else- is safe here. I'm personally terribly sorry about everything that happened. I know that seems like a small thing. But Blackwell should be a place of learning, not… tragedy."
It was around then that Max realized it was kind of a big deal for the new principal to be meeting her personally. He must have waited outside her room just to talk to her and her parents.
She also realized, with a disappointed sinking in her gut, that he was essentially a taller Principal Wells. The voice and look were different, but the words were coming out of the same tired old script.
Her parents were saying something in response as Max's attention drifted. Her gaze settled on the door across from her room, which was slightly ajar.
A pair of eyes were peeking out from underneath short, blonde hair.
Victoria Chase.
Max's expression involuntarily pulled into an angry scowl as Victoria finally noticed that Max was looking right at her. Here was Nathan's best friend and confidant, one of the big Blackwell bullies. So caught up in her own insecurities that she'd bring down everyone else if she could, just to make sure she stayed at the top of the tiny pile.
The person who basically goaded Kate onto the roof. Who was inwardly glad that Rachel was gone. Who could have helped Nathan, or reported him, or stopped him, but didn't. And because of that someone died- not just anyone, not just anyone died, it was Chloe, it was Max's best friend, and here Victoria was with her usual bland, judgmental expression, looking at Max like- like it was some goddamn normal school day, like Max was exactly the same person she was a week ago, like she wasn't slowly dying of loneliness and regret deep down-
Whatever compassion she'd had for Victoria, whatever moments or bonds they'd shared, were all forgotten. Max took a determined step forward, the old anger rising, making her clench her fists, grit her teeth, see red-
"Max?" said Thies.
The sound startled her. She turned a little too quickly to face him again, an almost frantic movement.
Victoria's door quietly clicked shut.
"Are you alright? What's wrong?"
It took all of Max's willpower to keep her voice level, though the tone was defiant. "Nothing."
The four adults stared at her.
She felt herself shrink slightly, the hot anger draining. "Sorry, I'm- I'm fine."
"…Alright, Max." Thies shared a concerned look with her parents- people exchanging looks again. It was starting to bug her. "Well, Max, I wanted to introduce you to our new photography professor, Melinda Green. She'll be taking over for the remainder of the year."
In contrast to Thies, Green wasn't much taller than average- and that was while wearing heels. She was dressed with the casual air of someone who spends money on expensive, branded clothes. She reached out and Max instinctively took her small hand in a shake.
"It's good to meet you," said Green, and she sounded like she meant it. But Max was wary of trusting so easily.
"…You too."
Thies pitched in. "We're lucky that such a well-known photographer was willing to teach on such short notice," he bragged, with a self-satisfied smile. "We're fortunate that the Chase family is so well connected."
Max's ears burned. Green had been brought in by Victoria's family. She remembered vaguely that the Chases owned an art gallery.
Thies smoothly took aside Max's parents for a casual (and obviously private) talk, no doubt about keeping an eye on Max and ensuring her well-being. For once Max had no desire to be nosy and eavesdrop. But that left her alone with Green.
There was an awkward pause.
"Don't worry. I'm not crazy," Green said with a small smile. Max shot her an offended look before she could stop herself. "Sorry," the older woman went on, and Max could have sworn that her cheeks looked a little pink. "Bad joke."
Another awkward pause.
"Oh. Before I forget. Given the circumstances, the Zeitgeist has left a slot open for us in the Everyday Heroes exhibit, so we can still submit our entry by the weekend. I already have the pictures from everyone in your class… except you."
Max sighed. "I don't think I'll be submitting anything." She paused. "I mean, I definitely won't be."
Green frowned with obvious disappointment, but nodded. "I understand. There's really no pressure."
"So, Victoria's parents asked you to…?"
"Oh, no. Victoria herself did. I've known her since she was this tall." Green held her hand up near Max's thigh. "She practically begged me to come teach, but don't tell her I said that. I think she mostly just wants the whole Everday Heroes contest to push through." She chuckled. "She's really talented and has her eyes on the prize. Though obviously I won't play favorites."
"She deserves to win," Max said, unsure why the words tumbled from her mouth, but fully aware of how bitter her voice sounded. Green only glanced at her in response, clearly unwilling to reply.
Max felt the familiar grip of her mother's hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Green," her mom said. "I hope you don't mind if I get Max settled in now."
Green nodded and joined Thies and Max's dad, who seemed to be in a deep discussion. Max sighed inwardly with relief as she and her mom entered Max's room.
It was basically the same, but with less junk. Cleaner. Generic. Almost all the personal effects, like the photos on the wall and the photography books, were missing, crammed into Max's bags to be unpacked later.
"So," her mom started, shutting the door behind them. "Does it feel good to be back in school?"
Max hated all of it so far.
"It's okay."
"Are you gonna help me Max?!" Chloe pleaded, on her knees in the scrapyard, digging with bare hands.
Max knelt down across from her pushed her fingers into the dirt, scraping it aside, getting it in her fingernails, staining her palms… "Chloe, stop! Look!"
There was something there. Something in the soil.
Something…
She continued to dig as Chloe looked on, horrified. "Please, no…"
An odor hit Max, a rotting, decaying smell. She recoiled in disgust. "Ugh!" She felt bile rise up her throat, and barely fought it down; it left a sour taste. Part of her already knew what Chloe was going to see, but she didn't dare think about it. Didn't dare think at all. Couldn't. "That smell…"
And moment later there was something worse. Chloe's voice.
"Rachel…?"
High and desperate.
"Oh, Rachel, no, no!"
Wild with fear.
"Please, not her!"
Max held her hands over her mouth in shock, as Chloe threw up a few feet away. She felt her eyes burning with tears, goose bumps prickling across her skin, her chest tightening and the whole world falling apart.
She stumbled over to her best friend and laid shaking hands on her back. "Chloe…"
Chloe wailed, a hysterical and uncontrollable sound. "Rachel…! Why?!" She pulled her knees against her chest and shook with frantic, manic sobs that ripped through her chest, pleading with no one, wailing at no one, crying for the girl that was dead.
And Max hugged her uselessly, in grief and horror, muttering words that changed nothing. "I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm so sorry…"
"I loved her so much…" Chloe sobbed.
"How can she be dead?!
"What kind of world does this?!
"Who does this?!
An alarm rang.
Max struggled awake in her dorm room, a wetness clinging to her cheeks. A sob left her throat as she reached groggily for the phone and checked the time.
She'd fallen asleep.
She had a text message.
From Chloe:
I have something to show you meet me in front of campus
get dat ass in gear NOW
Max wiped the tears off her face, and pulled in a deep breath, struggling against another sob that was building.
Not real.
It's not real.
An alarm clock rang.
Max struggled awake in her dorm room, a wetness clinging to her cheeks.
She checked her phone. It was almost midnight. She'd fallen asleep. She sat up in bed, still fully clothed, and wiped the tears from her face, before finally standing and pulling her messenger bag onto her shoulders. She nudged her room's door open and peeked down the hallway.
Nothing. All clear.
Being as quiet as possible she made her way down the hall and out the dorm. There was a security guard nearby- Principal Thies really did step up security. Unfortunately for him, the guard was busy staring off into the distance, and Max easily made her way past him, even without her rewind powers. Instead of going out through the main campus exit, she climbed a nearby wall and ended up in the woods- that helped her avoid any more guards, and it only took her a few minutes of wandering to get onto a road.
She pulled her jacket tight around herself and made her way through the empty streets of Arcadia Bay, guided by the dim light of streetlamps. The night was chilly and quiet, and lonely- more than once she jumped at a shadow or a sound, scaring herself.
She walked for half an hour before it started to drizzle. She pulled up her jacket's hood and shivered against the cold.
This was why she wanted to come back to Blackwell. This was the biggest reason.
It was in walking distance of Arcadia Bay cemetery.
She could go on any night she wanted. She could go alone. And she didn't have to tell her parents.
The cemetery gate was closed so late in the night, but she climbed it (not easily, though, and she slipped several times before she finally found her footing). In a daze, cold and scared, she wound her way through the cemetery paths toward a very specific tombstone.
There was someone already there, a silhouette kneeling in the dark.
"…H-hello?" Max called out nervously, keeping her distance.
The figure stood and turned to look at her.
It was David Madsen. He'd been laying a flower.
Max gasped and stared. Because of the oddities of time travel, this David would hardly even know her. She'd be an old friend of Chloe's, nothing more. No one worth talking to. He had already turned and walked away before she could think of something to say- she watched his retreating figure in the dark, until he climbed a nearby wall and was gone.
She wondered at the brief encounter, as she slowly made her way to the grave.
The world seemed to go very still, and very quiet.
Max stood silently, and stared.
In loving memory of
Chloe Price
March 11, 1994 – October 7, 2013
She reached into her bag and pulled out the gray Spectra with shaking hands. The drizzle made the ground slightly muddy, but she sat next to the tombstone anyway, leaning against its cold stone surface. She tried to ignore the rain pattering against her camera as she brought it up, the lens staring down at her.
The lens staring. About to snap a picture. In the dark.
Her hands shook more. Vivid memories of the dark room threatened to climb their way out of whatever pit she'd dumped them in, but she fought against it. She hadn't taken a single picture since her final rewind, much less a single selfie- but she could do this, she could do it for Chloe.
She fought to put a smile on her face, even as she started to cry.
The shutter clicked. The camera flashed.
An instant photo slid out.
Max took it with brisk motions and watched warily as it developed:
Max sitting cross-legged on the grass, next to the tombstone, a small forced smile on her face. Her hair and skin gleam with wetness in the rain, as does the tombstone. The darkness of the cemetery surrounds her, though fireflies dot the night sky and the stars shine overhead. The tombstone takes up too much of the picture, Max squeezed into one side, but that's okay.
She set the photo down next to the flower David had left behind.
"Photo-hog," she whispered to Chloe, and began to cry.
"…I'm so sorry, Chloe.
"Everything went-… went wrong.
"And now you're gone… And I don't know what to do with myself."
She let her shoulder fall against the tombstone, an arm wrapping around it, like holding onto a good friend.
"I've been trying to get b-better. I swear. But I don't…
"Want to feel like I've forgotten you.
"If I get better it'll…
"It'll be like I…
"I left you all over again. Like Seattle."
She was crying heavily now, and she wiped her eyes vigorously with a sleeve.
"And the w-worst part is…
"The worst is that I d-don't even know if y-you can, can hear me because I-
"Because-
"Because y-you know I don't believe in- in heaven.
"You- you knew that. I n-never told you but you knew-
"S-so maybe I'm not- not talking to anyone…
"And I'll never-
"see you again."
She let her head rest on the tombstone, sobbing and sobbing. Her words came out muffled as she forced them out past the shaking lump in her throat.
"And even if- if there is a h-heaven,
"After everything I did… I d-don't think I'd m-make it there.
"I'm s-
"I'm s-so sorry , C-
"Chloe…
"I'm so f-fucking sorry."
She shut her eyes tight against the darkness of the cemetery. She shut everything out.
"I c-can't do this,
"I can't do this… with- without you.
"There's this huge hump I just- I just can't get over, and
"and I know
"if I could, I'd get better- It'd be so easy,
"b-but I can't do it without you
"until you, you tell me y-you forgive me
"and I can g-go.
"B-but you c-can't because
"because
"because th-there's no one there."
The rain grew harder, soaking her clothes, but she ignored it all.
What kind of world does this? Chloe called out in the dark one night, sobbing. Who does this?
"I miss you s-so fucking much.
"I l-love you so f-fucking much-"