Smiles :-: Chapter Five :-: Smile; It's Easier Than Explaining Why You're Sad

:-: MAX :-:

Nine words today, on a plain yellow sticky note:

Smile; it's easier than explaining why you're sad. Fang.

With a sigh, I grab a pen, scrawling on the back of the sticky yellow piece of paper.

It's easier not explaining at all. And who says I'm sad? Lots of fake-love, Max.

I shove my note under the crack of the bathroom door, finish freshening up, and go downstairs to eat. My feet shuffle down the stairs in an almost trance-like manner. Last night I had barely gotten any rest, my mind awake and buzzing with buried memories.

"Morning, Max," Mom hums as she prepares a pot of coffee for everyone. She takes one look at me and the dark bags beneath my eyes, grabs a mug, pouring me a cup. I sit on a stool and lean my elbows against the breakfast bar, cupping the mug in both hands.

"Morning," I reply after a sip of the throat warming coffee, my voice slightly raspy.

She slides onto the stool next to me, a cup of coffee in her hands as well. "So… how's life?" Mom asks, wondering how I feel, in her own way.

I shrug, inhaling the rich scent of the coffee. "Okay, I guess."

Mom kisses the side of my forehead, looking at me. "No smileys today?"

"Highly doubtful," I say, a slightly apologetic undertone in my voice.

She sighs, taking a sip of her drink. "How's… Fang doing? With the smiling thing?" Mom wonders hesitantly. "Should I still look into setting up an appointment with Dr. Knight?"

I'm silent for a moment. "He's… okay," I finally say, much to the relief of my mother.

She smiles at me, kissing my forehead again and getting up from the chair. There's a shuffling behind us, and I turn my head to see an equally drowsy-looking Fang.

"Why don't you sit down, Fang?" Mom offers, and he slowly lowers himself into the bar stool, in what seemed to be a painful way. She puts a cup of coffee in front of him when he's finally sat down, and he groans his thanks.

"Are you hung-over or something?" I hiss, when Mom's disappeared into the pantry.

He looks at me, his dark eyes even darker than normal. "Wha'? No," Fang replies, shaking his head. "So… exhausted, though."

Mom reappears, boxes of cereal in her arms. She places them on the counter, next to the bowls, spoons, and milk carton. "Help yourself, kids. I'm going to go get ready, so holler if you need me, okay?"

We both nod slowly in a weary way, before she disappears up the kitchen stairs to the upper floor.

Fang helps himself to a bowl, muttering, "Foooood," after placing the first bite of cereal in his mouth.

I roll my eyes. Guys.

He looks at me, mouth full of food, and a scowl on his face, in a way that seems to be saying, It's not like you don't ever act like this.

Sending a glare at him in return, I shove a spoonful of cereal in my mouth, chewing it more aggressively than normal.

Fang stares at me, an eyebrow raised, as he too takes a rather large bite, chomping on it. Somehow, from there, it soon becomes a stare off, fully completed with angry bites of cereal.

And I can't help but think, This is the smartest guy in school, and I have to live with him?

:-:-:-:-:

:-: FANG :-:

Everyone's out of the house but Max and I, and I lie in bed, one hand on my head, the other holding a plain yellow sticky note.

Who says I'm sad?

Who says…

Those words repeat over and over in my brain to the point where I feel like ramming my head into a desk.

…I'm sad.

With a sigh, I throw the sticky note away from me. Who says you're sad, Max? I do. I can just see it… and I can't explain why or how. I just know.

"Argh," I groan, turning around so my chest is now on the mattress.

How am I supposed to help Max smile if I don't even know why she isn't smiling? I can't do anything to make her smile, unless I know why she doesn't smile in the first place!

Earlier this morning, I had accidentally stepped in on a conversation Max and her mom were having. "He's… okay."

God dammit, Max!

Why did she have to say that?Why couldn't she of been like, "Oh he's terrible and he torments me all the time… get rid of him! I need a professional to help me!"

Instead, she says that I'm okay. I know, it's not much, but based off of Mrs. Martinez's reaction, it was a big improvement.

So now, I not only have Mrs. Martinez depending on me, but Max too… in a way.

I let out another groan, this one considerably louder than the last.

"WOULD YOU STOP CLEARING THE CUSTARD? THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE IN THIS HOUSE!" Max screams from the room over.

Clearing the custard? What the hell…

This is the girl that won't smile, and I have to help her?

My fist raises and falls rather hard on the mattress. Why won't she smile? What's stopping her from smiling?

And then it hits me.

To get Max to smile… you have to help her get over the un-smile-causing-situation first.

But what exactly is that?

You have to get to know her first, to find out.

Get to know her? Max?

Precisely.

I bury my head in the pillows, wondering how the hell I would be able to do that, why I would do that, and why she would willingly let me.

Thus, Plan: Get-To-Know-Max officially commences.