Chapter Six
Maybe it was because he was used to people talking about him behind his back, or perhaps it was simply because Max knew that, no matter what his parents, the principle, and his coach decided, they would never know or understand the truth of the matter, but, whatever the reason, he sat calmly outside of the high school office while his future was discussed – both the immediate and the long term. Then again, it might have been the fact that whatever punishment they settled upon wouldn't matter. He didn't care about basketball. He didn't care about his permanent record. And he sure as hell didn't care about his reputation. After all, compared to being a freak – a social outcast, being a drunk, juvenile delinquent was actually a step up on the high school food chain.
Well, at least it was in the eyes of most of Max's fellow teenagers. There was one person – someone special – who wouldn't be impressed with his latest brush with the law. After it was revealed that he had been picked up by Sheriff Valenti the week before for underage drinking, driving under the influence, and a slew of other traffic violations, Liz had given him the cold shoulder. His parents had grounded him; the school had required him to attend some ridiculous substance abuse counseling sessions with the guidance counselor, but the only thing that mattered to Max was the fact that Liz Parker had looked at him like he was a stranger to her.
And now? Now, he didn't even want to contemplate her reaction. He knew she'd be disappointed, and it was how that disappointment would manifest itself in their relationship or, at this point, very nearly their non-existent relationship which had Max distracted to the point where he couldn't even muster up a slight edge of concern towards the meeting occurring behind the principal's closed office door. After all, what else could she do to... punish him for his actions? Would she insist upon changing seats, changing lab partners so that she wouldn't be forced to be near him? Would she go as far as to change classes? Perhaps she'd have her father ban him from the CrashDown. If she saw him walking down the street, would she turn and go in the opposite direction? Every imagined snub, every lost opportunity to just be around her scared Max a little bit more. It was to the point where he had managed to work himself into a near panic. Just the slightest provocation would send him running in Liz's direction – begging for her forgiveness, seeking her compassion and understanding, attempting to excuse his actions.
But then there was the flip side as well – the side of Max which remembered why it had been so important to him to be normal in the first place, why, when he had discovered the numbing side effects of liquor for the first time, he had been so tempted to drink on a regular basis. Every decision he had made, from which clubs to join, to playing basketball, to being so upset that he apparently drove drunk the week before was a direct result of his infatuation with Liz Parker, and he wanted her to recognize that fact. He wanted her to realize that his mistakes were because of her, that, if she would just love him the way he was, he wouldn't need to drink. And, if he didn't drink, then there would be nothing for her to forgive him for in the first place.
It was a continuous loop, and it sent Max's feelings and thoughts reeling from one extreme to the next. As he vacillated back and forth between desire and despondency, exultation and exasperation, he blamed his problems upon his alienness and rationalized that, if he could just have one more drink – just enough to take the edge off, then he'd be able to think clearly. He'd be able to make some sense out of the mess his life had become. He'd figure out a way to fix everything with the school, with the law, with his parents, and most importantly with Liz. But, on the other hand, if he didn't get that one last drink, then he'd be stuck in his emotional ineptitude, forever doomed to make the same mistakes over and over and...
"My, my, my, how the once mighty have fallen."
The snickering voice made him tense with instant irritation, and, before Kyle could finish his taunt, Max was already using his powers – temporarily raising the floor just enough so that the school's most popular jock appeared to trip over his own two feet, going down hard against the unforgiving tile floor. He smirked. "You were saying...?"
As Kyle pushed himself up, he spoke, a note of suspicion tinting the otherwise cold and hostile tone Max was so used to from the other young man. "I swear, Evans, there's something weird about you, and I'm not just talking about your personality either."
Eyes darting back and forth to avoid his accuser's probing gaze, knee jingling up and down rapidly in what could only be interpreted as a nervous gesture, Max glance around him, searching for an outlet for his frustration. The last thing he was in the mood to deal with in that moment was Kyle Valenti, and, despite his recent string of decisions lacking in common sense, he knew that punching the conceited, pompous fool standing before him wouldn't make the situation any better... no matter how good it would feel.
Spotting a water fountain and his salvation down the hallway, Max stood and began to nonchalantly stroll towards his destination. While walking, he demanded, "say whatever it is your pea-sized brain managed to come up with this time, and then get the hell out of here. I'm not in the mood to put up with your crap right now."
"Well, isn't that just too damn bad," Kyle sneered, trailing after him. "Because I don't take orders from you, Evans, and I sure as hell don't care what kind of mood you're in."
Blessedly, he slid his hands over the water fountain, discretely sending waves of energy into the receptacle to change the molecular structure of the liquid coursing through its insides. Greedily, Max then drank, nearly sighing in bliss as the alcohol rushed by his lips, flowed over his tongue, and slipped blissfully down his throat. For several moments, he just stood there, allowing the liquor to enter his blood stream and quickly work its magic. All the while, Kyle stood behind him, sprouting off at the mouth, no doubt insulting Max, but he never heard a word. It was only after a second bolt of power reversed the changes he made and he stood up that Max became aware of the taunts being lobbed in his direction.
"... and I'm just going to sit back and enjoy watching you lose everything."
"If by everything you mean my spot on the team, then you must have the two of us confused, because, unlike you, Kyle, I have more to live for than being Mr. High School. Some of us will amount to more than just winning Homecoming King and Most Athletic senior superlative."
"Not at the rate you're currently cruising along on," Valenti returned smugly. "Three months ago? Yeah, you had that whole dorky salutatorian thing going for you – not that I ever believed a socially backwards loser like you would ever managed to make something of himself, but, now, you don't even have your grades to fall back on. I know what's going on; I've heard the rumors going around about you. Apparently, all that booze has fried your brain."
"At least I had something to work with. You, on the other hand, started out stupid, so what the hell is going to be left when you're washed up and drinking your wife's paycheck away?"
Prepared for a quick return, Max was caught off guard when Kyle smirked, crossed his arms confidently across his chest, and then leaned back to rest against the wall opposite of the chair Max was once more sitting in outside of the office's doorway. "Oh, you mean Liz Parker?"
Without thought of implication or consequence, Max growled. It took all his willpower and resolve to not launch himself across the hallway, wrap his hands around Valenti's pumped-up neck, and strangle the very last flicker of life out of the other man.
"I see I finally hit a nerve."
Through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth, he warned, "do not talk about her. Do not think about her. Don't even say her name."
Rather than take his cautioning seriously, Kyle laughed. "Oh, this is rich, Evans, really! I mean, did you honestly think that you of all people really had a chance with a girl like Liz? Face it. She'll never be with you."
"At least I know that you don't stand a chance either."
"Really? You don't think so?" Pushing off from the wall on which he had just been leaning, Kyle stalked across the width of the hallway separating them. Coming to a stop just a few feet away from Max, the other man taunted, "they all give in eventually. Liz's legs might be squeezed shut a little bit tighter than all the rest, but I'll pry them apart, and, when I do, that cherry will be even sweeter knowing that it's just one more thing that you wanted but that I got instead."
Max stood then, slowly uncoiling to his full height which was an impressive five inches more than his adversary. As he spoke, his low voice took on an hypnotic quality – melodious yet full of strength, and power, and conviction. "I'm only going to say this once, Valenti, so listen and listen good. If you ever touch her, I will kill you." Furthering his point, he added, "and, as you pointed out so imperiously just moments ago, I have nothing else to lose at this point. In fact, the prospect of getting rid of you permanently just might be the one last thing I have left to look forward to. Thanks, Kyle," Max finished with a sharp, ridiculing slap to the cheek.
"For what," the other man asked, hastily backing away.
"Why, for giving me a reason to live, of course."
"You're sick, Evans," Kyle pronounced, scrambling down the hallway. "A fucking whack-job."
And then the other teenager was gone.
The silence returned with a vengeance as Max, once more, retook his seat. No longer was Valenti there to taunt him, but that also meant that his mind was free to return to the thoughts which had been previously occupying it and, with that return, came his same doubts, his same insecurities, his same resentments. With no apparent end in sight to the meeting occurring behind him, Max realized that he was thirsty once more. And what would one last drink hurt? Surely, as he awaited the reveal of his fate as determined by the authority figures in his life, he deserved some momentary solace, a temporary oblivion?
Standing, with the water fountain once more in his sights, Max made the trek back down towards his salvation. He could already taste the release and relief the liquor would bring him, and he smiled in anticipation.
; : ;
He watched as her bedroom light finally was turned on, as she moved about her room – putting this away and getting that out. He saw where she kept her journal (inside of her third dresser drawer, buried beneath a mountain of soft, colorful sweaters), and he was disappointed when she stepped into her en-suite bathroom to change. That disappointment only burned brightly for a moment, though, before it was replaced with anger, his now seemingly constant companion. Max was furious with himself for being disappointed, for being so desperate to be with and know everything about Liz Parker that he would willingly invade her privacy by surreptitiously gazing upon her as she innocently, unknowingly revealed herself to him by changing in his hidden presence, and he was incensed that, because he wasn't good enough for her, because she judged him to be unworthy just like everyone else, someone else – someone like Kyle Valenti or her friend Alex Whitman, would see what her bare skin looked like with the paleness of just her sheets draped across her graceful form; they would get to kiss her, and hold her, and make love to her, and he would forever be shut out in the cold.
With that chilling thought, Max shivered, despite the fact that the heat of the desert sun was holding on stubbornly that evening; the moon had yet to bring its cooling relief. But that was fitting, wasn't it – that he, in her presence, would be denied the pleasurable reassurance of warmth and, instead, left to suffer from his own unique brand of misery. Only Max wasn't as vulnerable as he had once been, as he had always been. Before. Now, he had options, a choice. He could suffer what the unjust world tried to throw in his direction, or he could fight back the only way he knew how. Lifting the water bottle he had pilfered from the gym and then filled with the altered offerings of the water fountain just outside of the principal's office, Max sighed when the scotch trickled and sliced its way down his throat. His relief was immediate. His shuddering stopped, the sounds of the distant and fleeting yet still noisy traffic – to him – became muted, even the slight, silver illumination of the stars, of the moon was dimmed, and Max could focus once more upon Liz.
She was out of the bathroom now. Face freshly scrubbed and hair tossed up in a loose, carefree ponytail, she was innocence personified, and, at first glance, her pajamas appeared chaste and pure as well. But then he would catch a glimpse of the curve of her bare shoulder, of the soft mutinous tendrils of hair which escaped their confinement to sensuously whisper across the creamy skin of her neck, or the sliver of flesh revealed between where her camisole ended and her drawstring pants began, and Max would recognized the tempered seductress just lurking below the surface, waiting patiently but begging for release. It made him question her and her actions. Suddenly, he found himself wondering where she had been so late that evening, especially since he knew that she hadn't been working. Had she been with her friends, and, if so, why couldn't she accept him and allow him to get close to her? Or maybe she had been out on a date, allowing some unworthy guy to hold her hand, to rub his thumb along her silky smooth cheek, to put his hand on her knee as he drove her home, and to kiss her goodnight.
It was those torturous thoughts, accompanied by imagined images, which were assaulting Max when Liz pushed the sill of her window up and climbed out onto her balcony, a blanket draped across her shoulders like a cape and her journal tucked between the crook of her elbow and her side. His eyes and heart feasted upon her; his mind rebelled against her as she contentedly moved around the brick and concrete space, turning on her twinkling lights and lighting several aromatic candles placed strategically around the balcony's ledge. He was silent while she worked, and the shadows afforded him the privacy to keep his presence cloaked until she was standing directly beside him, and he stepped out of the dark to reveal himself.
"Hi, Liz," he greeted softly, hoping not to startle her. He did anyway, losing her grip on her blanket. Before it could flutter entirely to her bare feet, Max had lifted the material back up to wrap it once more around her. "Sorry," he apologized, though a part of him didn't mean it, because it was frightening her which eventually led to the opportunity for him to touch her, to move so close to her.
Several tense moments later, her composure restored, Liz asked, "what are you doing here, Max?"
"I had to see you; I had to... talk to you before someone else could."
She tilted her head to the side, curiosity piqued. "Who?"
"Maria. Kyle. Anyone."
"Okay... but surely this could have waited until tomorrow morning, right? I mean, we have every single class together, Max." Grinning teasingly, she added, "you didn't need to scare five years off my life in order to speak with me."
Her scent – that perfect, unique Liz scent of strawberries, and vanilla, and purity – was making it hard for him to concentrate. He wanted to release her hair and then tuck its shiny strands behind the delicate shells of her ears. He wanted to trace his index finger around the hollow of her throat, feeling the rise and fall of her chest with every inhalation. His senses were screaming out of control while in her alluring presence, but, for one of the first times in his life, Max didn't regret his otherworldly capabilities; he relished in them, soaking up as much of Liz Parker's essence as he possibly could in that moment.
Shaking away his thoughts which would no doubt confuse and embarrass her, Max, feeling emboldened, rested his pads of his fingers against Liz's arm and gently led her towards the lounge. To explain his actions, he requested, "can we sit first?" He had meant that she would sit on the chair and then he would take a seat on the concrete floor at her feet, but she surprised him by sitting sideways and granting him the chance to sit directly beside her. Their forms touched from shoulder to foot, and Max had to fight every urge, every instinct in his body not to pull her even closer, not to wrap his arms around her and never let go.
"Alright, we're sitting now," she prompted when he remained quiet, trapped in his own silent battle of wills. "What is it that you had to tell me? What was so important that you couldn't wait until tomorrow morning in school and, instead, scared the..."
"I won't be in school tomorrow," he told her, interrupted her.
"What? You don't seem sick. Is your family going on vacation?" She brightened with an idea. "Oh, do you have a college visit to attend?"
"No, Liz," he answered, rushing forward before she could propose any other safe, logical reasons for his impending absence. "I was suspended – for ten days."
He felt her stiffen beside him and pull away slightly, even if the small confines of the chair didn't allow her to physically move too far from him. "For what?"
"Having an open container... on school grounds."
"What, that's ridiculous," she defended him, surprising Max... or, at least, he was surprised until he realized that she was just confused. "I know that technically we're not supposed to keep bottles of water or soda in our lockers, but everyone does, and the teachers don't say anything. I can't believe you got suspended for that, Max! It sounds like the school used this as an excuse to punish you further for what happened last week with Valenti, and, while I think what you did was horrible – drinking and driving, the school does not have the jurisdiction to take action against you for your legal problems. I'll call an emergency meeting of the student council tomorrow, and we'll brainstorm about ways we can fight this on your behalf. The last thing you need right now is to be further alienated from society. You need a support team. You need to focus on your schoolwork and get your life back on track. Suspension isn't going to help. I can't believe that your parents aren't..."
Before she could become even more offended on his behalf, Max cut her off once more. "Liz, I didn't get caught with a can of cherry coke at school; I was caught drinking... as in alcohol."
"I don't understand."
"It was stupid, really," he shrugged, standing up to pace in light of her quickly surfacing disillusionment with him. "I... it's relaxing – drinking is. It calms me down, helps me to ignore... everyone and everything. It's how I get through the day."
"You get drunk... so you can function?"
"No, not drunk," he denied. "I just drink enough to take the edge off."
"So, that's what you were doing when Sheriff Valenti pulled you over last week? You really weren't drunk," Liz challenged. "You were just... taking the edge off?"
"Look," he snapped. "You couldn't possibly understand." Stopping his pacing to face her, though he avoided meeting her gaze, Max ran a trembling hand through his hair, pushing it back. "There are things about me that I can't tell you."
"Everyone has secrets, Max, but most people don't run to a bottle to deal with them."
He ignored her, instead focusing on finding where he had left his confiscated water bottle. Just like his true identity, it was still hiding in the shadows. Grabbing it, Max argued back, "no, I'm not talking about secrets; I'm... different."
He lifted the bottle to his parched, desperate lips, but the abatement didn't arrive. Instead, he felt his salvation being ripped out of his grip as Liz yelled, "what the hell is this?"
"Give that back," he demanded.
"No. Now answer my question."
He stepped closer to her, crowding her, but, still, she didn't relent or back down. "That's none of your damn business, and, even if it was, you don't get it, Liz.
"No, you don't get it, Max," she fired back at him. Mocha eyes blazing, her face flushed by the heat of her emotions, she had never looked more beautiful, more untouchable to him. "We're all different; we're teenagers, for crying out loud! No one really fits in, Max. We just do our best to find some niche where we can try to be a part of something bigger than ourselves. High school is awkward, and scary, but its also extremely brief. In a few months, we're going to graduate, and, once we do, everything can and will change. And you have so much going for you! You're smart, and good looking, and you're kind... when you're not making stupid decisions and feeling entitled to make a mess out of your life simply because you've been teased some over the years."
Before he could protest, she moved away from him, unscrewed the lid to his water bottle, and then dumped its contents over the side of her balcony. "And this," she continued once she was finished, finally giving him back the now-empty container, "isn't going to help you, Max. In fact, it's just making things worse. Now, you're not only that shy, quiet kid, but you're also that shy, quiet kid who got suspended, who got arrested, who, I'm guessing, got kicked off the basketball team. And what makes this all worse is that you were this wonderful guy before you suddenly decided to make all these changes in your life."
"Yeah, this wonderful guy who was alone," he refuted her claim, "who had no friends."
Lifting her chin stubbornly, Liz proclaimed, "I was your friend."
All his bravado and irritation fleeing, Max questioned softly, "was?"
She shrugged. "I don't recognize you now, and, frankly, what I do see, I don't like. To be honest, Max, you... you kind of scare me now sometimes. The way you were with me last week by your jeep, the way you treated me just a few minutes ago when I took your bottle, I deserve to be treated better than that, and, frankly, I don't need that kind of friend in my life."
"So then I'll change," he told her.
"I'd like to think that it's that simple, but I don't think it is."
Feeling desperate, he demanded, "what do you mean?"
"I mean, if it was as simple as you realizing that you made a mistake and changing your behavior, then you would have done so after you got in trouble with the law. In fact, you probably would have realized that what you were doing was wrong before things even got to that point, and you never would have drove around drunk in the first place."
"I wasn't drunk," Max defended. It wasn't until he noticed Liz cowering that he recognized that he had just screamed at her. "I'm sorry. I didn't..."
"... mean it, I know," she finished for him, obviously doubting his words. "But that just might make it worse and definitely scarier."
With arms outstretched before him, prepared to beg for her forgiveness, he stepped forward, only for his dreamgirl to scramble several steps backwards, away from him. "Liz?"
"I need you to leave now, Max."
"But I... we..."
"I need you to leave and never come here again. You're no longer welcome at the CrashDown, and you're certainly not welcome on my balcony. While I realize I have no right to ask you to change your schedule at school... once you return, I do have the right to ask you to stay away from me. Don't sit by me in class. Don't talk to me. And I'm going to ask for a different lab partner."
"Please, don't do this," he beseeched her.
But she ignored him. "Goodbye, Max."
Before he could respond, before he could offer up one last objection, one last frantic plea, she turned away from him, slipped through her window, and then immediately closed the sill. The last thing he heard before swinging his legs over the edge of the balcony and onto the ladder was Liz securing the lock to her window. To his senses, it was as loud as a gun shot going off in the dead of the night, its finality striking him like the impact of a bullet and rendering just as much damage emotionally.
Once his feet touched the ground, he took off running, blindly searching for something, anything liquid that he could once more fill his water bottle with. Eventually, Max's boots splashed through a mud puddle in the back alley behind the CrashDown. Falling to his knees, he skimmed as much of the murky water into the bottle as he possibly could. Then, with a single touch, he multiplied and altered the molecules. This time, he chose to make it tequila and drank so greedily afterwards that he was forced to fill the bottle a second time before he could manage to stand up and start the trek home.
Sometime during his conversation with Liz, the night wind had switched directions, bringing with it the crispness of the northern mountains. Even with his clothes wet from kneeling in the puddle, though, Max didn't notice the chill. Rather, he was too relaxed, too calm, too numb to notice anything, to do anything, to think of anything beyond his next drink. Even Liz's devastated, hurt face slid into the background of his mind. Everything was eclipsed by the moment, and the moment, thanks to the tequila, was devoid of all sight, all smells, all sounds, all tastes, and even those very few who had ever managed to touch him and his heart.