Max

"Practica el baloncesto!" I screeched as I ran down the hallway.

I'd just gotten finished with Spanish class and, as always, it took me a while to get my mind converted back to English. But what the hell, as long as I was thinking in Spanish I might as well show off my awesome tongue roll on the R, right?

"Max Martinez," hissed Mr. Hannibal, the science teacher, as I sprinted down the hallway. "You're disturbing my class. Shouldn't you be in class anyway?"

I stopped running down the hall, since I knew - from personal experience - that Mr. Hannibal didn't go shy on the detention slips. (Okay, don't give me that look. I took a smoothie to his class. It's not like I was smoking weed in the bathroom, which those people never seem to get in trouble for.)

"Well, Mr. Hannibal, I'm a senior, you see. There is one hour left of class, as the clock shows. Seniors skip. Whoop-dee-do." That is what I wanted to say, and what any other average senior student would say to their first semester teacher second semester.

But what I spit out instead was the truth: "Basketball girls have practice out the wazoo for Sectionals. Two-fifteen till eight tonight. We get out of class early."

Lemme explain something real quick. Mr. Hannibal isn't that one teacher that's a total dork that everybody loves in person but hates as a teacher. He's not the guy that loves all the athletic kids and lets them just jump into a class whenever they skip. Nope, that teacher is Mr. Roserie.

Picture the teacher you hate most. The one that gives homework every freaking night and always chooses to pick on the kid that may or may not have Asperger's Syndrome. The one that doesn't give a crap about any sport or extracurricular activity except marching band, just because they lead it.

Got that teacher (or one in the same ballpark)? Okay. That's Mr. Hannibal.

So I was super surprised by his response: "Oh, alrighty. Good luck at Sectionals."

I stood there, blinked in shock, and thought, Who are you and what did you do with Mr. Hannibal?

"Oh. Um, okay."

I started to turn around, but Mr. Hannibal stopped me again.

"Just do me one favor, Max?" The evil glint in his eyes returned. "Tell your brother he needs to do summer school."

"Will do," I hurriedly said, and I got out of there before Mr. Hannibal could choose to turn on me.

In the locker room I threw on a neon green cutoff over my black sports bra as well as some long black basketball shorts. After throwing my hair into a quick and sloppy ponytail, tape and all, and tying my shoes on, I went to the gym and jogged my five warm-up laps.

I sat down in the corner to wait for the rest of the girls to finish, and Maddie was after me, although she looked practically dead.

Maddie's eyes had dark bags under them, and it was clear she wasn't wearing her Chapstick, and her hair was frizzy like she hadn't straightened it this morning. She looked, honestly, awful, and I wondered why I hadn't noticed it in Spanish class.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, jerking my head to get her attention.

Okay, so I wasn't giving her a big ol' hug or being sincere, but what was I? A therapist? Nope, I was the best friend, and best friends know how to make their best friend feel good again. And hugging isn't a good way. Hugging just makes somebody want to cry (or cry harder, if they already are).

See? I'm observant. I notice things.

"I'm freakin' jealous of you," Maddie said.

Um. That wasn't what I expected to hear.

Maddie and I have never gotten jealous of each other. I've always been the athletic silly one, and she's always been the athletic smart one. We evened each other out, completed each other, as cheesy as it sounds. People in school don't just gossip about me or Maddie; they gossip about me and Maddie.

Okay, bad example. The point is, we're two peas in a pod. So why was Maddie jealous of me?

"Why?" I stammered.

"Your love life is, like, perfect," she spit out.

"My love life?" I asked incrediously. "Fang and I may be Facebook official, but we're still not even talking about the L-word. Besides, I'm sure we'll have little bumps in the road, arguments and fights and issues. Our schools, for example. Is that what's going on? Are you and Lloyd fighting?"

Maddie dropped her head into her hands, appearing merely bored. But this was my friend. I knew how close she was to the edge. The question was, what edge?

"He really wants us to, you know, do it for is eighteenth birthday," Maddie whispered quietly.

"Why? It wouldn't be a present, since he's not exactly a virgin."

Maddie groaned pitifully, and so what few girls were sitting around us scooched away, getting the message that Maddie and I needed to be alone.

"I know, but I am! And he knows it, and he swears -"

"He swears what, Maddie? That he'll keep it a secret? That he'll love you the same afterward? Let's think about Tracie, and Krystal, and Jaycee..."

I listed off all the girls that Lloyd had (literally) screwed over, destroying their innocence and their reputation at school. When a guy has sex his friends high-five him, and when a girl does, her friends exclude her entirely.

"Shut up, Max! It's not like Fang hasn't done it!"

That got me thinking about a new topic for Fang and my dinner tonight.

Fang

Have you ever sat down at a fairly nice restaraunt to enjoy a peaceful, not-fast-food meal? And have two high school kids ever stormed into that meal wearing their sweaty gross basketball clothes, holding hands, and talking about dessert?

Well, that's probably just about - exactly - what Max and I did when we walked into Paco's Tacos at eight-thirty, half an hour after Max's practice ended and fifteen minutes after mine.

Needless to say, we were both super busy with all these extra practices preparing us for Sectionals.

"Hungry?" I asked as I sat across from Max in a booth, picking up a menu and glancing at it.

"Starving." Max picked up a menu of her own. "What do you usually get when you come here? I've never eaten here before, so I don't know what..."

I popped my neck, then my knuckles, then my shoulders, and then I scanned the menu for my usual. I didn't eat here a ton, but I really only liked one thing on the menu. I'd only brought Max here because her last name is Martinez and that's a hispanic name (I think) and tacos are hispanic.

I'm not quite sure where I got that logic, since the only things I'd ever seen Max eat were pizza, Sonic, and McDonald's.

"I usually get the chicken and cheese quesadilla."

"Okay, I'll try that."

Max put her menu down and sipped at the root beer that she'd ordered.

I could tell that she was distant tonight, that her mind was on other things. I wanted to ask what, but most of the girls I had experience with were ones that would just burst into tears and spill everything out. I didn't picture Max as that kind of girl and, honestly, I was kind of afraid to find out what she would do.

"Are you, uh, okay?" I found the bravery to ask.

My hand quivered as I reached for my Dr. Pepper, and I hoped Max didn't notice. My mind was screaming, Wimp, wimp, wimp! But really, if Dylan, the huge army dude a few years older than Max, was scared of her, than shouldn't I be at least a tiny bit afraid? At least a little tiny bit? Of course, I wasn't just a tiny little teensy weensy bit afraid. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding.

I was so whipped.

Max put her elbows on the table and sighed, picking up a piece of bread and picking at some of it.

"You'll think I'm a dork when I say this, but I feel like we don't know each other very well. Like, at all."

"I don't think you're a dork," I replied. "And actually, you're probably right. So what should tonight's dinner be about? Interviewing each other?"

Max smirked, and I could tell right away that she was going to make this into a competition, or at least a game, like she always preferred to. It made things interesting, as she'd told me a few times.

"Twenty questions," she explained, "only it goes for as long as we have questions. We just swap and we can't not answer a question."

She raised a brow, as if asking if I accepted the dare.

"Let's do it."

Soooo sorry it's been so long! I try to alternate between updating this story and the other, but I like to take breaks, so... At least it's a fairly long chapter (for me) to make up for the wait. I hope.

Next chapter we'll find out more about our favorite characters! If you have anything specific you wanna know, put it in your review for who and I'll have the other ask.

Review, please!