Apologies for the delay, I had a busy yesterday. Hope you enjoy!
I do not own Life is Strange, nor do I own Marlboro
As much as she was loathe to admit it, Max now nurtured an addiction to cigarettes. She inwardly cursed Chloe every time she smoked, standing outside in fair and ugly weather. Often times, Warren would join her; she had found that he had taken up smoking as well, at 'coincidentally' the same time. She didn't care much for his company, and only payed the loosest attention as he praised whatever science fiction movie had caught his interest that week. Regardless, it was better than smoking alone.
Victoria had been avoiding her. Max had caught the tail ends of her comings and goings. She would enter her room as Max was leaving hers, or leave her room as Max entered her own. They made eye contact once or twice, but it was fleeting. In one instance, Max met Victoria as she was leaving the bathroom. Both had flinched away, avoiding each others gaze as they shimmied back and forth to pass each other. Eventually, Victoria shouldered Max out of her way and stomped down the hall with scarce a look back.
They might as well have not shared a photography class at all, as the project's due date approached. Max wondered if Victoria would still use the photographs she had taken of her: the ones of her half-reclined on the bed, a strapless shoulder turned toward the camera. Her mind wandered back to her own picture, that of Victoria smiling without restraint in a moment of soft vulnerability. It was a pleasant snapshot, and conveyed an aspect of the blonde that her other classmates didn't often see. Then again, she also had the photograph of Chloe sitting on the bench by the lighthouse, her back beside the setting sun. Deliberating which to use, Max was drawn sharply back to reality when Mr. Jefferson asked her a question:
"Max, what were Richard Avedon's defining characteristics as a photographer?" He drew a hand across his trimmed beard and along the sharp cut of his jaw; regardless of Max's sexual preference, she had to admit that he was attractive. She could see how he appealed to Victoria, all mature, and wisened. "Max?"
"He took celebrity portraits mostly, and had a good grasp on black and white contrast," Max replied, articulating her response. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Victoria scowl, tapping the notes on her desk with her pen. Mr. Jefferson gave a sage nod of his handsome head, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"You're correct Max. Moving on…"
Max slumped in her seat, crossing her legs and arms as she leaned back. Tuning out her teacher, her mind turned back to the project. The aspect Victoria's picture showed wasn't sexuality, as she intended, but kindness. Vulnerability, even. Her clothes aside, she came off as childish, her smile unprompted by the photographer. There was no Cheese! involved. She couldn't remember the joke that was said; had it been about Warren? Probably. A deep, distant roar of thunder broke her revelry as the first few droplets of the coming rainfall sped down the classroom window. Max watched as Victoria turned to look outside, her expression wistful.
Class ended soon afterwards. Victoria left without so much as a goodbye, even to Mr. Jefferson, who stood by his desk shuffling papers. Max approached him, pulling photographs from her binder. "Mr. Jefferson?" she voiced, a bit timid, though that was not to say he was unapproachable. "I've taken some pictures for the project and I've narrowed my selection down to two. I thought I'd ask your opinion on the matter."
He gave a good-natured smile, taking the two photographs offered. From behind his glasses, his dark eyes scanned the first, then second picture, before returning to the first. "I've never seen Victoria look so relaxed; she's a tense person by nature. You truly have a gift for capturing rare moments, Max. And who's this?" Mr. Jefferson asked, referencing Chloe's picture. He held it up for Max's inspection, and she soon replied:
"That's my friend Chloe, she used to go here. Maybe you remember her?"
"Ah, Chloe. There isn't a staff member here who doesn't remember Chloe. Anyway, it's another good shot. Nice use of light and dark. What aspect did you have in mind for this one?"
"The poignancy of thought. Or maybe loneliness," Max said, unsure of her response. She still hadn't settled on an aspect for the picture. It was so subject to interpretation that it could've gone any one of a hundred different ways.
"In that regard, it has poetic depth. You should chase that complexity in future pictures. If you do, you'll really come into yourself as a photographer. You show a lot of promise Max, I just wish you'd submit a piece to the Everyday Heroes contest. I think you'd have a shot." Mr. Jefferson returned the two photographs. "If I had to say - and mind you this is just my own personal opinion and won't reflect on how I grade your final project - I would choose the one of Victoria. But that's only because I know the kind of person she is. For pure composition, I'd choose the one of Chloe. Ultimately it falls to you, Max."
She nodded, replacing the pictures in her binder. "Thank you Mr. Jefferson. Have a good evening." He returned her pleasantry, and she left in the direction of the girls' dormitory.
It was deep into evening when Max finished typing her paper for AP English. It was a rhetorical analysis on a commercial she had found on youtube, one of Michelin tires. She read through its paragraphs again, editing here and there, formatting, typing new sentences and removing others. Though she wasn't the most adept writer in her class, Max was proud of her work, and soon pressed the 'print' button, moving to collect the physical copy from beneath her desk. She stapled the pages together and placed them in her bag, before collecting her pack of cigarettes and lighter. With that, she left out into the humid late day air.
The wide banner of sky above her seemed dipped in rich dye, a dark blue contrasting pepperings of white; grey clouds hung motionless and damp, the remnants of the passed storm. The ground was wet as Max walked, the yard devoid of her peers where it had been busy during the afternoon. Pendulating pines loomed in the background, covering mountains and their smaller brethren, the hillocks. It was calm, and quiet: as an evening should be. All the squirrels and chipmunks had returned to their dens for the night. All the birds had gone to rest.
Max made her way toward the parking lot, finding a short curb to sit on. Her knees high in front of her, she straightened a leg and withdrew her pack of cigarettes, and from that, removed a cigarette. She placed it between her lips and lit the end, dragging it into a serviceable cherry. A long exhale followed a long inhale, and a long inhale preluded a long exhale. A silvery dancer shuddered, disappearing a moment later. She pulled out her phone and texted Chloe: 'Sleepover at your place?' A moment later Chloe replied: ';)'. Max laughed, replying: 'I'll be waiting in the parking lot' - to which Chloe texted back: 'Be there in ten.' Max felt the sweet-honey haze of the 'buzz' suffuse her, and she sighed, enjoying the melt.
"Max?"
And just like that, the high vanished. Unsure of who it was, Max got to her feet, hiding the cigarette behind her. Mr. Jefferson stood adjacent beside his car, looking down at her from the curb. His smile was a shade dark, his features more so. The shadows made him look intimidating, nothing like his warm, mentorly self. "You smell like smoke," he said, frowning, and Max prepared herself for the coming lecture. But the lecture never came. Instead, Mr. Jefferson outstretched a hand, motioning a bit.
With a groan of consternation, Max gave him her pack. Recently, rewinding had given her headaches, and it just wasn't worth it. He opened the carton, withdrew a cigarette, and placed it in his mouth, then pulled a white lighter from his pocket and lit its flame.
"I never burn my own if I can bum one," he murmured, taking a drag. Max blinked, taken off guard. She thought it a very humanizing moment for Mark Jefferson. More comfortable in his presence, she relaxed. "You're probably wondering why I'm out here so late. I'm wondering the same thing. Principal Wells is still giving me a lot of grief over Kate. 'You should've known something was wrong,' he keeps telling me, and he's right, I should've." Max recalled the altercation between him and the blameless christian girl she was witness to. "You did a heroic thing, up on that rooftop. You saved a life, which is more than I can say for myself." Drag. "Max," puff, "you have so much potential. But I've seen young photographers more promising than yourself squander everything. You now find yourself at a crossroads. The fork is your self-doubt. Will you submit a picture to the Everyday Heroes contest? Or won't you-"
"I will," Max replied before he had even finished speaking. She wanted to believe herself. Mr. Jefferson didn't reply. He only leaned against his car and looked off into the stratosphere, his mind a million miles away. "I wanted to ask you a personal question. I need some advice." He nodded. "I'm interested in two different people. One I've known for a long time, since I was a kid, and the other I met relatively recently. The first is rash, a real fighter, and she's loyal, but can be defensive and rude. The other is outwardly mean, and quick to anger, but she's got a good heart. I don't know who to choose, if I should even choose either."
Mr. Jefferson furrowed his brow, "I shouldn't be advising you on matters of the heart. But since it's after school, and we're two adults, I guess I can give it a shot." He snuffed out his cigarette beneath his heel and drew a pack of Marlboro golds from within his coat. He withdrew one and lit it. "Posing for a picture is an intimate action. You give a piece of yourself to the photographer: a moment taken, a moment given." Mr. Jefferson took a long drag, and paused for what seemed like forever. "That's my question. And answer. Who would you have take your moment - who would you give it to?"
The headlights of Chloe's truck swept the empty parking lot as she pulled up to Blackwell Academy. She drove around and parked by Mr. Jefferson's car, honking once. "Have a good night, Max. I'll see you tomorrow in class." Max replied in kind as he stepped into his car, and, shortly, maneuvered out, driving away. Still thinking about his advice, Max swiveled to the open window of Chloe's truck, leaning against the frame. Who would you have take your moment - and who would you give it to?
And so concludes another chapter. Reviews are very, very appreciated ;)