This is Sanich Iyonni's request of Max and Mariam meeting when they were younger, which of course they would not remember when they were older. I tried hard to keep them (mainly Mariam) in character, but bear with me if something doesn't sit right. Max was easy, Mariam was hard, because I can't imagine her being exactly as she is now back when she was eight, so I kind of wrote her personality halfway.
Anyway, it's been a while since I've written anything, let alone MaxMariam – I'm excited! I got a few drabble requests finished in my spare time during camp last week, so expect more to come! Also, I have about fifteen oneshots started, too, so hopefully you'll see an onslaught of stuff from me in the next few months.
Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade, Blue's Clues, or the Salvation Army (a second-hand store where people bring used clothing and stuff).
When They Were Young
Max Tate brushed his fluffy, blond hair out of his eyes once more and sighed deeply. He whimpered as a twinge of pain slipped through his stomach with the action, and rubbed at his stitches with annoyance - they were irritating.
His blue eyes swept over the room and all of its dullness. Nothing but a few chairs, a couch, a TV whose remote he couldn't reach, the bed he lay in, and a load of unnecessary machinery wasted away in the dreary hospital room, which was enough to make any bouncy five year-old bored out of his mind. And with his mom out on a coffee run at the nearest café and his dad held up at the shop, there was nothing he could do for himself but mope.
Max frowned and made a noise of frustration, kicking his covers off for something to do. He froze as another mild pain tickled at his freshly stitched stomach. With another wince here and a hiss there, the small blonde boy dragged himself up into a sitting position, and stared at his door, hoping against hope that something or someone would appear from behind it to entertain him.
He had no sooner started to wish on the sun in desperation (Blue's Clues had taught him the sun was a star, after all) when his door was flung open and an oddly dressed girl with long, messy blue hair rushed in. She made it in just before the door bounced off the wall and swung shut.
Max stared for a long time at her as she leaned against the bottom of his bed catching her breath. She patted her hand over her heart to slow the beating, like Max had seen his mother do last June when she'd rushed upstairs after he'd screamed bloody murder over a spider in his bedroom. Anyway, this girl was doubled over dramatically with her hands on her knees and head drooped forward, as if she was recovering from an Olympic relay race. Whoever she was, she really was the weirdest person he'd ever laid eyes on.
Curiosity overwhelming him, Max crawled slowly to the bottom of his bed as if he was approaching some wild animal. Sensing his closer proximity, the mysterious girl snapped her head up and came face to face with him. Both jumped at the sudden sight of one another, and seemed able to do nothing more than stare.
"Um…" Max muttered as he studied her unique earrings and bright green eyes, lips twitching up into a smile. He opened his mouth again to continue his blurb, but he was quickly silenced when the intruder decided to have some words of her own.
"I'm not here!" she stage-whispered, and quickly scrambled into bed with him and hid under the covers.
With a high-pitched giggle, Max burrowed himself in next to her. "What are you doing here?" he asked, with excitement etched in his voice.
She narrowed her eyes at him and made a lip-zipping motion in his direction.
After a sigh and a bout of silence, Max spoke again: "What's your name?"
She glared at him from out of the corner of her eye. "If I tell you my name will you shut up and not blow my cover?"
"What cover?" Max blurted before he could stop himself.
Another glare was sent his way. "My name's Mariam. Now zip it!"
Max thought Mariam was a pretty name. It wasn't the kind of name he'd have guessed to belong to her. But when you said it in your head a few times, it sounded sharp enough to fit her sharp attitude. He nodded, satisfied.
"Well, I'm Max!" The blond pointed to himself with his thumb as Mariam frowned severely at the fact that he was talking again. "I'm here because they had to take my glossary out! See?" He sat up on his knees and lifted his shirt to reveal the small line of stitches dabbled across the lower right portion of his stomach. "I was scared, but Mommy said it would be okay, but I still cried a little. Not a lot, though – just a little. So they took me into a big room and made me fall asleep so I wouldn't feel a thing! Then, a little while later, I woke up in here with Mommy and Daddy, except, Mommy needed coffee (not "crappy hospital bile with the same name") and Daddy had to work in the shop, so I'm here all alone. Except not now, because you're here and we're friends!" He replaced his shirt with a sense of accomplishment and looked over to find Mariam's face buried in the covers. "Mariam?"
She mumbled something, but it was too muffled to make out.
"Huh?"
Mariam dislodged her head from its cocoon of bedding and pointedly rolled her eyes. "Glossary?"
"Maybe it was the table of contents or index…I don't remember. Something from a library book."
"Your appendix."
"Yeah, that was it!" He rolled over onto his back and kicked the covers up towards his pillow. Mariam grimaced and pulled them back down with an indignant grumble in an effort to remain camouflaged. "How about you?" Max asked. "Why are you here?"
She sighed loudly and answered, "I hit my head, so they brought me here, but I ran, because no one comes out of the back room alive."
"Huh?"
"That's what Dunga said. So when they tried to take me back, I ran like the wind."
"But they don't want to hurt you, Mariam," Max insisted. "They want to help you, just like they helped me."
"How do you know they helped you?" Mariam questioned snidely. "You don't know what all they took out. Maybe your parents aren't here because they can't stand to see you die!"
Max's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Eep!"
Mariam crossed her arms and smirked, fully enjoying watching him squirm.
"Hold on…" Max was skeptic. "If I was gonna die, then Mommy would've taken my clothes and stuff home, or to the Salvation Army. Maybe you should stop listening to that Dunga guy – he sounds like an ape."
"Maybe you're right…" Mariam was remembering the time when Dunga had convinced her that blue hair meant death by drowning at age seven and she'd refused to bathe until her mom and half of the village has set her straight. "He is an ape. You're not bad for a five year-old."
Max beamed, displaying his whole set of pearly whites.
Just then the door opened and Judy Tate came walking in with her coffee. She froze at the sight of Mariam curled up in Max's bed, and opened her mouth to tell her off. Before she could muster a single syllable, though, the weird, green-eyed girl shot out the door, spilling coffee all over the older woman in the process. Max watched her go, unable to suppress his raging laughter, despite his mom's venomous eyes and the stitches in his side.