Satiated, Max sauntered down the hallway. Lunch had been particularly fulfilling today with Kate bringing in homemade cookies her sister Lynn had sent her. Honestly, Max never could refuse a good dessert. And Kate was certainly right when she said her sister knew how to bake.
But now it was time for favorite part of her photography class. Mr. Jefferson didn't lecture during lab. Instead, he offered them opportunities to find themselves within content. Sometimes, that meant staying in the lab and working with simple items or each other as models. Other times, that involved going outside. Max always loved it when they could escape.
Walking in, Max found Mr. Jefferson standing at the front, looking dapper as ever. Flustered, Max averted her eyes. She found him more attractive now than before, which she hadn't thought possible. She could still remember the broad expanse of his chest. His deep breaths contrasting her shallow ones. His arm tightening around her, protectively… possessively. Face flushing, Max quickly found the floor to be very interesting.
"Mr. Jefferson?"
Recognizing Victoria's voice, Max looked up to find Victoria just brushing past her. Their bet was still on, and Victoria had yet to make headway. But every day, she tried to push for something. Max almost admired her determination. Almost.
"Yes, Miss Chase?" he replied. His lips were taut, more so than usual. It seemed that Victoria was wearing on him the wrong way. All the better for Max.
Victoria pulled a picture from her bag and handed it to him. "I would like to submit this as my 'Everyday Heroes' entry."
Mr. Jefferson looked at it and blanched. "Oh - um - well, I… I don't know what to say." Instinctively, Max took a step forward to see what on Earth could have evoked that reaction.
"You don't have to say anything," Victoria purred, placing a hand on his arm. "You are an everyday hero, Mr. Jefferson. I've always believed that for teachers, but you took it a step further. You deserve to be recognized."
"I already have been. I've been selected to chauffeur the winner of the 'Everyday Heroes' content to San Francisco," Mr. Jefferson responded, letting the picture fall more horizontal in his grip. "An announcement that I was going to make today."
"You're also going to San Francisco?" Victoria couldn't even keep the excitement quelled from her tone.
Max caught sight of it. Without thinking, she snatched it from Mr. Jefferson's hand. "Max!" he rebuked, reaching out to take it back. Max dodged the movement, her eyes never leaving the photo.
The picture was simple in its elements. In the outskirts of the photos were the backs of heads. Both students and faculty, from what Max could tell, were watching the scene before them. She and Mr. Jefferson were in the center of the photo. He had one hand on her arm, his arms clearly straining with the force of his pull. Meanwhile, Max had been caught mid-spin, her eyes still shut tight. She truly had been braced for an impact. The red sedan was only halfway in the scene, but its position was the most telling. It rested mere inches away from Max's body.
Max's lunch decided to revisit. Shoving the photo back into Mr. Jefferson's hands, Max barely made it to the trashcan in time. She curled over it, her stomach emptying its contents. The delicious lunch came back up foul and distorted. Although she had known she had come close to dying, she had no clue just how close.
A few seconds. The difference between life and death.
"That's so disgusting," Victoria sneered.
"Enough!" Mr. Jefferson barked before kneeling down next to Max. He placed a comforting hand on her back. "Max, just take a few breaths."
"Don't touch me," Max snapped as she pushed him away. She didn't like people touching her when she was sick. Not that she had the presence of mind to explain herself. "I need to go the nurse's office," she said lamely. They both knew the nurse wouldn't be able to do anything for this.
"Of course. Take all the time you need. Come back only if you can," Mr. Jefferson answered, openly hurt by Max's outburst. However, he clearly wasn't going to push the matter any further. Something that Max was almost painfully grateful for.
With that, Max rose to her feet and hurried out of the room. She turned towards the main entrance. Life Drawing was the only course she had after Photography Lab, and she was certain she could get Daniel to give her his notes and the homework. Right now, she was going to go back to her room, play her guitar, and try to forget the epiphany that had just implanted itself in her mind.
Her trip back was in a numb haze. Although the closer she got to her room, the easier it became. It was almost as though the distance was making a difference. She knew that wasn't the case. As soon as she walked in, she flopped onto her sofa. Snagging her guitar, she began to play a soft melody, soothing to her ears. Her fingers plucked the strings out of muscle memory. Playing guitar was one of the few things outside of photography Max enjoyed enough to avidly pursue.
You almost died.
It wasn't the first time she had had this thought. But every time she had it, the anxiety that followed was lessened. Accepting death was a part of life. That much, Max knew. She just never thought she would confront it at such a young age. Shuddering, she missed a chord. Her fingers fumbled before finding the melody once more.
Of course, Max knew there was photographic evidence. Or, to be more precise, video evidence of the accident. Principal Wells had mentioned it. But she hadn't realized that there might be anything outside of that. Until today...
Victoria took the shot .
Max wasn't sure whether she should be bitter or not. After all, Victoria was the only one in the frame of mind to capture that moment. And of course it would have been Victoria. She truly had a photographer's instincts and reaction time. But Max herself felt as though her memory had been infiltrated. Tainted. This knowledge did nothing good for her conscious. Only time would tell if this would help her heal or remain as salt in the wound.
But she wasn't wrong to use it as her entry.
Without a doubt, Mr. Jefferson was an 'everyday hero.' Max knew that better than anyone else. And that picture perfectly depicted the very soul of the contest. No doubt Victoria would win with that entry. And here was Max, still trying to figure out exactly what she was going to do for her own. It truly was on the backburner, though.
Max stopped playing. Still numb, she searched about for something to do. She went through the motions of several actions, from taking a shower to doing homework to eating dinner. Time slipped by freely. The sun dipped beneath the horizon, and the lights illuminated the grounds in their unnatural glow. Hidden in her room, Max could still hear the life happening around her. It was comforting and painful at the same time.
Tonight, Max knew she wouldn't be able to sleep. Her tossing and turning left her restless and frustrated. Victoria's posse had only stayed up until midnight, planning the next Vortex Club party. It was just around the corner now. They made sure the whole hall knew when they went to bed, though, slamming their doors shut for the night. As the silence seeped in, Max found her mind wouldn't settle. Every time she started to relax, she recalled the picture - how close she had come to being hit.
Just get over it already. Jeez. You didn't actually die.
She knew these words to be true, but they brought her no comfort. Glancing at her phone, she noticed it was 12:14AM. She looked outside. A walk usually did her some good whenever her thoughts were overwhelming her. But curfew had already passed, and Max had never snuck out of the dormitories before. Not that Max had been a rule breaker at home either. Besides, what was there to do in the middle of the night? Arcadia Bay was quiet enough during the day that nighttime all but constituted it as dead.
In addition, security was usually milling about the place until 11 of so. Max didn't understand why Mr. Madsen didn't go home sooner. Didn't he have a family to return to? She had seen a wedding ring on his finger, so he was certainly married. Part of her felt sorry for the lady, given how intense he could be at times.
Might as well live a little, right?
Max smiled at her own little pun. Getting up, she slipped out of her room and crept down the hallway. She decided not to bring her bag with her, not wanting to be encumbered more than necessary. Slipping out the dorm doors, Max quietly crept around the Principal's house. The residence had also been funded by the Prescotts. It was certainly a nice little bonus for whoever took up the position despite coming with additional responsibilities. But Principal Wells wasn't exactly renowned for busting students sneaking out at night, so Max wasn't overly concerned.
Trotting up the stairs, Max gazed up at the nighttime sky. Arcadia Bay had far less light pollution than Seattle, and Max had forgotten just how beautiful the stars could be. She walked over to the fountain, sitting down and taking a moment. It felt like eons since she had first arrived. She still recalled taking that picture of the coins, her first ever photograph at Blackwell Academy. And she hadn't forgotten Mr. Jefferson's face upon seeing it. At that moment, she had truly felt like they had clicked. That an innate understanding existed between them.
I feel so much older now. Like I've aged by years instead of months.
The front door opened. Max's heart nearly leapt out of her throat as she jumped to her feet. Who was possibly still around at this time of night? She glanced around, looking for somewhere to hide. Just as she took her first step, she heard her name called out.
"Max? What are you doing out here?" Mr. Jefferson stated, walking down the stairs.
Max replied, "Oh, hey, Mr. Jefferson. I-I didn't realize anyone was still around, and I just wanted to get some air."
"How're you feeling? Any better?" Mr. Jefferson asked. He reached forward to touch Max's head before stopping himself. Max looked at him in surprise. He had certainly never restrained himself in such a way before. "Pardon me. I forgot you don't like to be touched."
Realization washed over her. "I don't like people touching me when I'm throwing up," she explained. "But I was just - I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's alright. You were in a poor frame of mind," Mr. Jefferson replied. "I certainly don't judge you for it, although I was sorry you did not return to class."
Max averted her eyes. "I didn't return to school for today."
"I know," Mr. Jefferson said, his expression melting into a sad one. Then he straightened out. "Well, I've been cooped up here long enough, I believe. Come on, Max. Let's take a drive."
Shocked, Max inquired, "A drive? Where?"
"Anywhere we want. The night's still young," Mr. Jefferson said as he started off towards the staff parking lot. Max trailed after him instinctively. "It's good to get away from here and take your mind off things. Get some perspective, if you will."
"Couldn't you get in trouble for this?" Max pressed, her nervousness coloring her voice. She wanted nothing more than to go with him, but she also respected him far too much to risk his position as her teacher.
Mr. Jefferson looked back at her and gave her a wink. "Only if we get caught," he whispered before unlocking his car, a nice silver sedan with a sleek sports car-looking front. It looked like it had some power to it, too. He opened his car door. "It's your choice. Get in or step back."
Hesitating, Max worried her lower lip. Her instincts were to go back to her room and pretend nothing happened. After all, that's what a good student would do. But Mr Jefferson's wink had caught her off guard. He clearly accepted the consequences if they were caught, which meant that he must have a plan to ensure they weren't. Besides, she felt safe with him. Almost stupidly so. Without a second thought, she clambered in and buckled up.
"Good choice, Max," Mr. Jefferson said before pulling out of his parking spot. He peeled out of the parking lot and turned away from Arcadia Bay. "Let's go somewhere where we can enjoy the beauty of night."
Max reclined in the plush seat, admiring the inside of his car. It was certainly comfortable. More so than any other car she had been in before. She relaxed and stared out the window as the lights of Blackwell dropped behind a canopy of trees. Max tried to recall the last time she left campus, but her mind drew a blank. After all, with Joyce and Chloe possibly in town, Max had stayed away. She hadn't even gone to her favorite spot at the lighthouse. Perhaps Mr. Jefferson was right. Maybe she had become so absorbed in Blackwell that she had forgotten anything else. At least in Seattle, she went places with friends. Here, there were not as many friends and fewer places.
"We never got to talk about what happened," Mr. Jefferson suddenly noted, pulling Max from her reverie. "About the accident. Not really."
Max let out a strained laugh. "You're about the only person left who can say that."
"I've been in a similar situation all week. Everyone coming up to me, hailing me as a hero," Mr. Jefferson murmured.
"You are a hero." Max had whispered the words, scared of what saying them aloud would do. But she said them with every conviction in her heart. "You were really courageous."
Mr. Jefferson froze, stopped at a stop sign. Instead of taking his turn, he looked over at Max. "I certainly didn't feel like I was being a hero," he informed her, his voice taking on a deep and serious tone. Shivers ran down Max's spine. "You know what I felt? Fear. Overwhelming and uncontrollable fear. In my mind's eye, I could see you hit. Your blood splattering the pavement. Your body limp. Your eyes lifeless. And all I could think was that I could not allow that to happen. I could not allow you to die. I ran out of fear, Max, not courage."
Max stared at him for a minute in reply, allowing everything to nest in her mind. Her thoughts flittered about like birds, one always passing too quickly for her to grasp. When Mr. Jefferson started driving again, it brought her out of her stupor. She looked back out of her window. "Nelson Mandela once said that courage was not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. That a man was not brave because he felt no fear but because he acted despite of it."
The silence that followed was palpable. Max allowed it to settle between the two of them. All this time, she hadn't realized just how affected Mr. Jefferson might be from the experience.
"Wise words from a wise man," Mr. Jefferson noted before chuckling. "Ironic that you are teaching me. The student surpassing the teacher."
Max flushed. "Don't joke. You're still way out of my league." Mr. Jefferson glanced at her with one eyebrow raised. She became flustered. "N-not like that , Mr. Jefferson!"
"I know, Max," Mr. Jefferson said, humor coloring his tone. "You're one of my most serious students. I don't doubt your integrity. But I just couldn't help but give you a hard time."
He doesn't know.
The epiphany engulfed her like a tidal wave. Despite how awkward she always seemed to be, Mr. Jefferson was oblivious to her feelings. She didn't know whether to be reassured or devastated. At least she wouldn't be like Victoria or Stella. But if he didn't know she was interested, did that mean he would never see her in that light? Then again, he wasn't supposed to see any student in that light. Max wasn't special, she reminded herself. Wanting it to be did not make it so.
"-ax? Max?" Mr. Jefferson called out, his voice cutting through her reverie.
"I'm just tired," Max blurted out guiltily, trying to cover for her own thoughts.
Mr. Jefferson stared at her a moment before saying, "Would you like to go back?"
"No," Max confessed. She then realized they had stopped. "Are we here?"
"We are," Mr. Jefferson responded. He opened his door, causing the car light to come on. Max was temporarily blinded, squinting as her eyes adjusted. "Come on then."
Getting out, Max let the door drop shut, only it didn't properly close. She gripped the handle and tensed. She hated closing someone else's car door because she never wanted to look like she was slamming it shut. Shutting it harder, she turned to find Mr. Jefferson was already walking away. Max trailed behind him. They reached the edge of a cliff, and Max stepped around and gasped. Arcadia Bay was far beneath them now, twinkling like the constellations in the sky. Its glow illuminated just the small packet on the coastline.
"Whoa," she breathed out. She stepped closer only for Mr. Jefferson to place a hand out to stop her. Coming to, she looked at him with wide, startled eyes.
"Careful," he cautioned before looking down.
Max followed his gaze and found herself at the edge of a cliff. Heart hammering, she stumbled backwards. "O-oh!"
Laughing, Mr. Jefferson sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. "I found this place about two weeks ago," he explained, "when I started my newest exercise of landscape photography."
"It's lovely," Max offered, edging forward a bit before sitting down with her legs crossed. She admired how the peaks of the trees almost created a small mountain range before them. The darkness contrasted blackness, the trees only illuminated by Arcadia Bay. The lighthouse in the distance flashed its light at a pace that reminded her of a heartbeat "It reminds me of the view from the lighthouse."
"The lighthouse?" Mr. Jefferson echoed.
Nodding, Max murmured, "That's where I used to go when I wanted to be alone. No one ever goes up there. Like it's been around so long that it's like one of the pine trees around here - practically forgotten."
"You know, every lighthouse has its own beacon signal," Mr. Jefferson stated, staring out at it. "Its own speed, own flashes should it have any. The structure itself has its own colors. They did everything they could to make lighthouses identifiable in the night so that sailors could figure out where they were on the ocean."
Max stared at the lighthouse as she listened. "No. I never knew that," she admitted. She stared out at the beautiful nighttime scene. From such a height, though, Blackwell Academy appeared small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. "Part of me wishes I had my camera, but it never does do well at nighttime."
Mr. Jefferson raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to take a photo?"
"It would be nice," Max wistfully sighed.
Getting up, Mr. Jefferson brushed himself off. "I'll grab my camera."
"Are you cereal?" Max blurted out.
"Cereal?" Mr. Jefferson echoed with a laugh. It wasn't meant viciously, she could tell. If anything, he was amused by her vocabulary. He ruffled her hair before sauntering off, his hands in his pockets.
Thank fuck it's dark out.
Max's face was on fire. The ghost of his hand remained in her hair, and she straightened it out in an attempt to erase the memory. Suddenly, a camera appeared before her. She recognized it as his. Gingerly, she took it. It was definitely more modern than her camera. Turning it on, she watched the screen flash on. It was bright, and she recognized most of the icons, although she hadn't used a camera like this in quite some time. Fumbling with it, she tried to get the settings to pop up. Her brow knitted with concentration.
"Let me help, Max," Mr. Jefferson murmured, his large hands enveloping her own. With gentle, measured movements, he showed to her how to bring up the settings. Max changed the settings with Mr. Jefferson merely checking that she had done so correctly. Then he pulled back.
Max raised the viewfinder to her eye, shutting the other one to ensure that she could only view how her photograph would be. Zooming in a touch, Max lined Arcadia Bay closer to the top of the photo, which would allow the trees to play a role in the foreground. She snapped a few shots before pulling back and checking them on the screen. It had captured the night perfectly.
"Look," she said excitedly, turning the screen towards Mr. Jefferson.
Taking his camera back, Mr. Jefferson examined it. "That's a wonderful photo. I particularly appreciate how you managed to incorporate the natural landscape. Arcadia Bay almost looks as though it's in the jaws of nature itself," he murmured. "I will make sure to email you a copy so you can have it."
"Thanks, Mr. Jefferson," Max murmured before looking back out. "Blackwell looks so small from here."
Humming in agreement, Mr. Jefferson noted, "Many things in life seem bigger than they are, Max. It's only when you're on top that you realize as much."
I wonder if I'll ever be on top, though.
Sighing, Max leaned back. "I-I've been thinking about how exactly to thank you," she confessed.
"You already did," Mr. Jefferson noted, tilting his head in confusion.
Max shook her head. "That doesn't... That's not good enough, I feel. I mean, you saved my life... and-"
"Max," Mr. Jefferson cut in. "You don't have to do anything. I didn't save your life so that you would owe me. I am not expecting a gift or anything in reply."
Grimacing, Max wished she could explain herself more clearly. "I know that, but I still feel-"
"Consider this my reward then," Mr. Jefferson stated. "I am quite enjoying myself, and it has been some time since I can last say I have done that."
Max hesitated before nodding. If Mr. Jefferson said that this was enough, and if she could help him have a bit of fun, who was she to say otherwise? Looking back out, Max let the conversation go. "I can see why some photographers are obsessed with nighttime. There's something almost magical about it," she murmured.
Mr. Jefferson hummed a moment. "I think it's also to do with the mystery."
"What do you mean?"
Hesitating a moment, Mr. Jefferson pressed his lips into a fine line. "I mean that, in the right lighting, anything can be revealed. It's why people find such comfort in well-lit locations. They believe themselves to be safe. They think that, if they can see the danger, they can stop it. But in the darkness, well, everything changes. Anything can be hidden in the dark, from secrets to someone's true personality. And since lighting is required for viewable photographs, that's why some photographers find it fascinating."
The wind picked up, causing Max to close her jacket a bit more. Beneath them, the trees swayed. A symphony of leaves rustled, some even blowing past them on their descent. Breathing in deep, Max closed her eyes a moment and just took in the fresh, crisp air. Mr. Jefferson's point made sense. Although darkness was equated with evil, Max herself had never seen it that way. After all, the room to develop photography was called a "Dark Room." Darkness was as essential as light.
"Victoria wasn't wrong, you know," she finally admitted, still not opening her eyes. When Mr. Jefferson didn't speak, she continued, "She captured you as an 'everyday hero.' As much as the picture took me off guard, I have no doubt she's going to win the contest with it."
Mr. Jefferson murmured, "She won't. I rejected her submission."
Eyes snapping open, Max jerked her head to look at him. "What? Why?"
"Officially, I told her that I could accept a photograph of myself for the competition because - even if she rightfully won - no one would take her submission seriously. They would believe that I was flattered enough to select hers in order to stroke my own ego. I told her that she deserved better than that for a debut," Mr. Jefferson explained, holding Max with his gaze.
"And unofficially?"
Mr. Jefferson averted his eyes. "Unofficially, I didn't feel comfortable with the submission. If I didn't know better, I would almost say Victoria did it with equal parts of flattery and vengeance on her mind."
"Victoria and I have never gotten along, but I think that might be a bit too cold-blooded even for her," Max offered. Although she might not like Victoria, Max always tried to speak to the better part of people. Much to Chloe's infuriation, to a point.
You really should call her tomorrow.
"I certainly hope you're right, Max," Mr. Jefferson sighed out, turning his gaze back to Arcadia Bay.
They sat in silence a while. Unlike normal, Max felt comfortable. There was no pressure for them to putz about awkward small talk or for them to have a deep, philosophical discussion. Instead, it felt as though they were simply together. It was relaxing. The night passed by quietly, nothing there to remind them that time even existed. Slowly, Max's eyes became heavier. She started to lean without realizing, only stopping when she toppled into Mr. Jefferson. Immediately, she could smell his cologne. He went tense underneath her.
"Sorry," Max slurred out. "I haven't been sleeping well."
"Why not?" Mr. Jefferson whispered. She felt him start to relax.
Max huffed. "I'm a light sleeper. Girls like to talk. And nightmares. Haven't slept in ages ."
"Let's get you back then," Mr. Jefferson replied, helping her sit back up. Max grumbled under her breath as she felt him grip under her arms. With one fluid movement, he pulled her up to her feet.
Max stumbled, leaning into him for a moment. Sleep was now beckoning her to join in its embrace. "Mmkay," she said as she righted herself. After a few more staggering steps, Max found her way back into Mr. Jefferson's side. "Sorry."
"It's quite fine. Come on. Use me to steady yourself," Mr. Jefferson offered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her there.
Max did not object as they approached the car. Had she been more awake, she might have felt quite giddy over the affection. As it was, she was a walking zombie. The soothing atmosphere had really done her in. Mr. Jefferson opened her car door, and Max all but flopped into it. Once both her feet had managed to wiggle their way in, she blindly put her seatbelt on. Her eyes were still too heavy to open. The other car door closed, and she heard the soft rumble of the engine coming to life. Mr. Jefferson turned on some jazz. Max was too tired to comprehend any of the words. Leaning her head against the window, she finally sank into the enticing darkness.