"Max Caulfield, are you falling asleep during class?" Mrs. Grant's usually kind voice sounded strained with disbelief. "Am I boring you that much?"

Snapping her eyes open, Max forced herself to sit up straight. "N-no, Mrs. Grant."

Mrs. Grant eyed her a moment and frowned. Despite her obvious exasperation, she turned around and continued writing on the board. Max let out a deep, cleansing sigh. It was getting worse, she knew. Last night, Victoria had kept her up until 3AM with a "girls night in" Vortex Club meeting. She then rose a few hours later for her morning shower.

When was the last time I even got a full night's sleep?

Max genuinely could not remember. She had been at Blackwell Academy for just over a month now. Victoria plagued her every night she could. And before her departure, Max had trouble sleeping because she was so nervously excited about starting the school year. She tossed and turned night after night, wondering what Blackwell Academy would hold for her. Would she make friends? Would she be able to keep up with her work? Would she be able to impress Mr. Jefferson with her photographs? Would he understand her passion for her old analog camera? Would she be mocked for her love of selfies?

She told herself she didn't care what her classmates thought. And that was true. Frankly, her classmates could mock her all they wanted. It just proved that they weren't good company to keep. But if Mr. Jefferson thought poorly of her - well, Max wasn't sure how she would cope with her idol disapproving. And that's what kept her up the nights before coming to Blackwell.

Well, it wasn't only that. Max had yet to contact Chloe to let her know she was back in town. Every time she thought about it, she convinced herself that she would reach out tomorrow. And tomorrow always came and went. Honestly, she knew she should just call and get it over with, but she was still so apprehensive. What for, she couldn't truly put her finger on. But it was enough.

Max had also avoided the Two Whales Diner like the plague, not that she dared to trek too far into town. She didn't know if Joyce still worked there, but she wasn't about to test her luck. Although nowadays, she had some serious cravings for bacon and eggs. Joyce had always been the best chef Max ever knew. She was also like a second mother to Max, and Max missed her almost as much as she did Chloe.

I must have disappointed them both…

"Anyone have any questions before we start the practical session?" Mrs. Grant inquired.

Max zoned back in and looked down at her nearly empty notebook.

Are you cereal right now?

Quickly, Max glanced up at the board and began to copy the notes down as quickly as she could. It appeared that they were going more depth into climate change today. Mrs. Grant was a strong advocate for practical science. As she put it on their first day, "Learning what chemicals have explosive reactions is definitely fun, but just short of an armed intruder attacking the school, has no practical value. You all are on the cusp of entering college and the world. There are better things for you to learn to help you as an adult."

At least she hadn't spaced out during a chemistry lesson. Then she would have been completely screwed. Finishing her messy notes, Max looked up to see Mrs. Grant passing out some papers. "Since no one has any questions, we might as well get started. This is a historical timeline of summer temperatures for the last one hundred years in Arcadia Bay. You all are to project that the next ten years will look like if this graph continues undeterred."

Max took her packet and looked down at it. Global awareness was important, but the soft pattering of rain water against the windows was quite lulling. Max felt her eyes start to drift shut again as she focused on it.

"If you have any questions, I will be at my desk in the front. I'm happy to help, but I will not be giving away the answers, so come with specific questions."

Hearing her teacher's voice caused Max to start again. She looked at the graph before her. It was fairly simple to follow. The changes in seasonal temperature started soon after the Industrial Revolution. But the recent years have seen the most dramatic fluctuations yet. Max frowned. This seemed as much math as it did science, and she wasn't particularly strong at either of them.

But the students around her already seemed to be working out their graph. Max looked back down at hers and examined the last ten years. That was probably most vital in figuring out the next ten, right? Max worried her lip as she grabbed her calculator and set about working through the problems. Just as she finished, the bell rang, causing her to jump. She really had lost herself in the assignment this time.

"Turn in your packets before leaving. Make sure to read chapter nine for next class! I'm considering giving a quiz come Monday," Mrs. Grant warned.

Max reached her desk and set her packet on the pile. She hoped she at least got some of her answers right, or that Mrs. Grant could at least see how she got it, given all her mathematical equations were sprawling across the page. Turning to leave, she walked towards the back door. Mrs. Grant's classroom was twice the size as others, thanks to the lab tables required. The back door was directly across from Mr. Jefferson's classroom. She looked up to find Mr. Jefferson talking to Stella about something. Max felt a wash of disappointment.

So much for sneaking a minute of Mr. Jefferson's time.

Since the incident with Victoria, Max hadn't exchanged a private word with Mr. Jefferson whatsoever. She didn't feel as though he was avoiding her, per say. He just always had his hands full with Victoria. But now Stella was flashing him some seriously crazy eyes. Max couldn't judge. It was hard to not swoon over such an attractive, famous teacher. The fact that he didn't respond to Victoria's constant flirting meant that he at least had good taste. Not that that was shocking.

Mr. Jefferson looked up, his dark eyes catching Max's blue ones. Max started, not having expected him to notice her. He tilted his head, as if silently asking her if she needed something. It was egotistical of her to think that he would abandon a conversation with another student if she asked, but her heart fluttered at the thought. Flushing, she gave a small wave, hoping that it wouldn't look awkward, and quickly grabbed her earbuds. She all but crammed them in her ears before walking over to her locker.

She should probably be grateful that Stella was there. Honestly, she had nothing to really talk about, and Mr. Jefferson might have been frustrated with simple small talk taking up the time when he could be eating instead. Not only that, she didn't want to come off as another girl throwing herself at him. He clearly already had his hands full with Victoria and Stella, amongst others. But then again, she genuinely wanted to have a relationship with him, too.

Not that like…

Her mind scolded her with a lie. Certainly, she had thought about being with Mr. Jefferson. The thought of being his muse was intoxicating. Capturing his interest would be the greatest flattery. But it was nothing more than a fantasy, she knew. And probably a common one at that. What girl with eyes wouldn't?

Lesbians.

Her mind reminded her, checking her own heteronormative thoughts. For her field, open-mindedness was everything. But besides lesbians, she reconsidered, she doubted any girl would be immune to him. Even those without hope.

Like me.

Max sat down at her desk and grabbed her notebook. Pulling it out, she doodled a bit as the break period came to a close. Nathan Prescott the Insufferable was in this class, which made it her least favorite to attend. He was like Victoria's male clone only with way more money and attitude. And with that money backing him, he thought he could get away with anything. Like openly having drugs at Vortex Club parties. What frustrated Max the most, though, was that the school never proved him wrong, opting to turn a blind eye to his drug habits.

I guess money really does buy power.

Max looked out the window to find the rain still softly plodding to the ground. Although rainy days certainly had their photographic benefits, Max didn't like risking her camera to try to capture them. It was just another moment that remained out of her reach at her current state. Victoria, on the other hand, had brought in a recent underwater shot she had taken when vacationing on some tropical island.

"It's lovely," Mr. Jefferson noted when she showed it to him, "but lacking in true content."

Honestly, Max almost felt bad for Victoria, knowing that critique wounded her deeply. At least she was willing to put herself out there. Max still struggled just turning in assignments, always worrying that they weren't quite good enough. She was starting to wonder if even Blackwell was out of her league.

Mr. Jefferson doesn't think so.

Max involuntarily smiled at the thought. Mr. Jefferson was always encouraging her in class. When he passed back grades from their first assignment, he had written on hers that she had intuitively acted as a true artist should. He also wrote that she was a "rising star." Max looked at it whenever she became doubtful of her capabilities.

Now she wished she had gotten a moment to talk to him, even if it was about nothing. With his voice, he could soothe away any trepidation. And his sincerity always rang true. It was hard to find someone as passionate and open as he was about photography. And yet, he always remained a bit aloof to the class. Max supposed it was because of how many girls were throwing themselves at him. He had to keep a distance and promote boundaries. But to another extent, it seemed like it was always impossible to tell exactly what was on his mind.

"Settle down, class, settle down!"

Max only then realized the second bell had rung. Pulling her eyes away from the dreary weather, she braced herself for another droll class. She might have gotten here on a scholarship, but it certainly wasn't easily. She scribbled out her earlier doodle before writing the date at the top of her notebook page. They were going to discuss the unit circle for trigonometry today. Max drew one in her notebook, fighting the temptation to turn it into a bunny rabbit.

Class dragged. Max wasn't sure if it was the content or because it was Thursday or due to the weather or the fact that lunch was right afterwards. But the ring of the bell was a welcomed relief. Gathering up her items, Max shouldered her bag and hurried out of the room. Her stomach was practically gnawing on itself, given that she didn't eat breakfast that morning. Not that she usually ate breakfast, despite knowing that she probably should. But breakfast reminded her of Joyce's cooking, which reminded her of Chloe... and William. Those weren't memories she was fond recalling so early in the morning.

"Maximillionaire!" Warren called out, running down the hall to catch her before she took the stairs. "Where're you eating today?"

Blackwell Academy had a cafeteria for its students, but it was mostly used for the retrieval of food. Students could roam the grounds during lunchtime, although going into town to eat was discouraged. This meant that cliques would go to their "hangout" spots. Max, though, liked trying new places, seeing what photo opportunities existed in each one.

"I thought maybe the football field today," she said. It was just across the road, but she imagined the bleachers would have a nice shot of Blackwell Academy, still misty from the morning's rain.

Warren nodded. "I'll join you then. I've never eaten there either!"

Max figured he would join her, as he almost always did. It was only when Brooke caught him first that he didn't join her. Or was it couldn't? She nodded as they meandered their way down to the cafeteria. It was usually packed as soon as the first bell rang, students milling about, all trying to get their food and go . Max was one of them, heading up to the refrigerated sushi section. It was the least popular part of the cafeteria and was situated right next to the drinks, which meant it always made for a quick in-and-out stop. Grabbing a package of California rolls and a package of vegetable rolls, Max also snagged a water before heading over to the registers. Warren, meanwhile, was in the small queue to snag a pre-made sandwich and some chips. He usually didn't deter from his usual meal.

Handing the cashier her school ID to be scanned, Max collected her lunch. The cashier handed it back, and Max stepped away. She was just in between both register lines, careful to not block anyone wanting to leave.

"Outta the way, Hipster Max," Nathan snarled, knocking into Max's shoulder.

The pain was secondary to the shock. Gasping, Max staggered back as she regained her footing. He had knocked her from behind, and she hadn't been anticipating it. Victoria laughed loudly, causing a ripple effect with her Vortex groupies. Nathan sneered as he passed by, shouldering his way to the front of the line. People moved out of the way for the Prescotts, but only because they practically owned the school at this point. Even though Nathan wanted to be revered and respected, Max knew that he would never get that. Not with his attitude, at least.

"Max, you alright? I saw what Nathan did there," Warren called out. By the looks of it, he had just managed to finish paying.

Max nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. More surprised than anything. Nathan can be a real jerk, though."

"No kidding," Warren agreed, glaring at Nathan. "One of these days, he's going to mess with the wrong person. I hope that I get to be there to watch."

Although not a violent person by nature, Max couldn't help but silently agree. They left the cafeteria, strolling across the front lawn. The rain had let up towards the end of her last class. Even so, the clouds looked heavy, as though they could break open at any minute. A few minutes of pleasant silence passed between them before Warren said, "Oh, I forgot to get you that flash drive. Make sure to text me later so I remember to bring it to first period tomorrow."

"I will," Max offered as they passed the natatorium. She appreciated the fact that he was determined to help her sleep. Honestly, she should probably be more into someone this caring about her. But for whatever reason, she couldn't view him more as a friend.

Maybe I should try going on a date with him. That might help.

"Warren!" The call was so abrupt that even Max looked for the source of the voice. Brooke waved as she rushed over.

"Yo, Brooke!" Warren greeted. "What's up?"

Brooke panted as she got there. "I wanted to show you my drone. I haven't been able to take it out for a spin yet, but it's still really cool. A HiFly drone, so its distance is far superior to other products that are similar in size. It's the first one I've ever owned."

Warren hesitated, glancing over at Max. "That sounds really cool, Brooke. Maybe you can show me after school?"

"Why not now? We have time," Brooke pointed out directly, frowning as she glanced at Max. "Besides, it might be raining later."

Max caught the hint quickly. Victoria wore a similar expression when Mr. Jefferson spoke to Max. "We have loads of time. Why not check it out a bit, Warren? I'll go find us a nice place to sit in the bleachers. And feel free to join us if you want, Brooke."

"Thanks. Max," Brooke replied, clearly relieved that Max wasn't going to fight her for Warren's attention.

Max offered a small wave before trekking across the grounds again. It would be nice to have a moment to herself. Where Warren was outgoing, Max was introverted. She liked to be alone with her thoughts more often than not. Warren sometimes didn't seem to really get that. But at least he made Max come out of her shell. And it was because of him that she met people like Brooke, who was pretty cool in her own right. She definitely knew her tech.

Silver linings, I suppose.

Mindlessly, Max stepped onto the road. Her name was screamed, causing her to look up. It was then she registered the sound of a car engine. She looked over. A car was blazing down the road. Straight at her. Frozen, Max felt like a deer in the headlights. She begged for her body to move. Yet not even a muscle twitched. The car screeched on its brakes, hydroplaning. Her heart soared into her throat as she realized what was about to happen. Closing her eyes, she shrank up.

She felt a hand grab her arm and yank her back hard. Spinning on her heels, she staggered into something far softer than metal. Then she felt her equilibrium fail her. She fell, landing on someone. The person let out a pained "oof" from the impact. Shaking, she gripped the material underneath her fingertips. Her heart pulsed in her throat. She buried her face into what she now realized was a vest, trying desperately to calm herself down. Expensive cologne filled her nostrils. It smelled wonderful. A hand landed in her hair, stroking it.

"Max, it's alright. You're safe," Mr. Jefferson soothed quietly. She could barely hear his voice over the pounding of blood in her ears.

"Holy shit. She a'ight?" a thick accent inquired. "I did'na think she'd just step out like that."

Mr. Jefferson's grip on her tightened. "She's fine. Just shaken," he replied curtly. "Lucky for you. If you had hit her, you would have had serious federal charges pressed against you."

"Wha-?" the driver echoed. "She did'na look!"

"And just how fast were you going in a 20 mile per hour zone?" Mr. Jefferson bit back, his tone now threatening. Max had never heard him sound so aggressive before. "Because I am guessing our math teacher can quickly figure out your speed with just our security cameras."

Max's shaking reduced to trembles. Slowly, she started to realize that she was in Mr. Jefferson's arms . He was holding her. Her heart changed its pace upon that thought. Then her mind began to clear as awareness seeped in. Whispers buzzed around her. Pushing against Mr. Jefferson's chest, she stared down at him for a moment before glancing back at the driver. He was a portly man, balding, with hands balled into fists and a red face.

"Max, are you alright?" Mr. Jefferson inquired, his tone resorting back to its previously calming state.

Swallowing hard, Max glanced around and found a small crowd around them. All their eyes were on her. "I-I think so," she finally managed to answer. She carefully got off him, stumbling to her feet. Immediately, her head spun, and she gripped it.

Mr. Jefferson got up as well. Gently, he tilted her head up. "Look at me," he coaxed. Max looked up at him. His eyes were filled with concern - although they were tinged with something darker, harsher - as he carefully examined her. In his glasses, she could see her worn expression with dark circles under both eyes. Her hair was disheveled. "You're still suffering from shock. We should get you to Nurse Barenchi before your adrenaline wears off."

Max nodded stiffly, pulling out of his grip. "Ok," she managed to say, her voice sounding strange to even her.

Tilting his head with concern for a moment, Mr. Jefferson called out, "Mr. Madsen, get his information, would you? And if he refuses, call the police."

Mr. Madsen nodded sternly before stalking forward. At least he wasn't about to be intimidated by the portly man. Meanwhile, Mr. Jefferson walked behind Max. She always stayed two paces in front of him, wanting - needing - to walk on her own. She was strong, or at least wanted to appear as such. She climbed the steps slowly, keeping her head down. Eyes bored into her from every angle , and she only felt reprieve when she finally entered the school. Walking down the corridor, she heard Mr. Jefferson's sure steps behind her. It was comforting.

She pushed open the door to the stairs. She climbed up the first set of stairs before hitting the landing. Finally, her mind processed what had happened.

I almost died.

Anxiety seized her. Her knees gave out as she gasped for air. Her mind was fixated on that singular thought. Mr. Jefferson caught her before she hit the ground, lifting her up and letting her rest against him once more. "Shhh. Don't cry," he murmured.

Still panting, Max then felt the wetness on her cheeks. When had she started to cry? "I-I'm so sorry. I don't know why I'm like this," she managed to stammer, trying to find her legs again.

Chuckling, Mr. Jefferson said, "Perhaps it's connected to the fact that you were almost hit by a car. It's alright to break down about that. But you should try taking deep breaths. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth."

Max listened to his instructions as best she could. At first, it was difficult to control her breathing. Her lungs wanted more air faster than what her nose allowed. But she focused, letting out a shallow shuddering breath. Then she took another, larger one in. The one that followed that was easier. Her fingers curled around his vest again, and she clung to it openly. Mr. Jefferson's arms tightened around her, and she could have sworn she felt him press his lips to the top of her head.

Although it took a minute, Max eventually righted herself. It wouldn't do her any favors to depend on him longer than necessary. "Are you alright, Mr. Jefferson?" she finally thought to ask. After all, she had landed on top of him. If anything, he was probably the one who needed to see Nurse Barenchi.

"Thank you for asking, Max, but I'm fine," he reassured her. "You gave me quite a fright there. I wasn't sure I would make it to you in time."

"No one's more glad for that than I," Max jested weakly. She started back down the hall. "Thank you. For saving my life."

"Just promise me you'll look both ways before crossing the street from now on," Mr. Jefferson said as they reached the nurse's office. He opened the door for her.

Nodding, Max managed to smile. "I'll do that."