It was shocking how much one conversation could change everything. Max felt lighter when she got up in the mornings. And despite her concerns otherwise, she didn't have any issue returning back to her usual participation pattern. Victoria still leapt at any chance to kiss Mr. Jefferson's ass or try to impress him. But now, Max wasn't concerned. Although she might not have known it, Victoria had lost.
It wasn't easy, though. Max couldn't lie. Sometimes, she couldn't look at Mr. Jefferson without remembering the kiss. It made her cheeks burn red and forced her to avert her eyes. It also left her a little nervous whenever she was around Mr. Jefferson. Not that that was unusual, but she worried if it would make her feelings too apparent. But, whether luckily or not, all the students were still too preoccupied with Kate's video to pay any attention to Max.
Max worried for Kate. Honestly, she looked like she was in full zombie mode. She had become far more introverted and quiet, even in classes she loved. Max couldn't remember the last time she saw her smile or laugh, and she knew that her abstinence campaign had been met with teasing and sneers. On the one hand, Max could understand why. Everyone at Blackwell was a senior, about to step out into the world, and if they wanted to have sex, that was their choice to make. They weren't about to let anyone make them feel bad about it or act as if they were their parents. But Max also knew that that wasn't what Kate was shooting for, and she certainly didn't deserve the ridicule.
After their failed tea date, Max hadn't really hung out with Kate. She still chilled with Dana now and again, although Dana distanced herself from almost everyone for a few days. She also stopped hanging out with the football players and Vortex Club as much. Instead, she was seen more around Justin, Trevor and the other skaters. Max had never really associated with them. But if Dana thought they were cool then there must be something that Max was missing.
Max sat in Mr. Jefferson's class and finished drawing one last doodle as she listened to him lecture. "Alfred Hitchcock famously called film 'little pieces of time,' but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was. These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow. From light to shadow. From color to chiaroscuro."
Max heard something crumble. Looking up, she watched a paper ball fly across the room and hit Kate in the face. Kate recoiled slightly, turning away. Concerned, Max watched her carefully for a moment. However, Kate merely kept her eyes cast to the ground.
"Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?" Mr. Jefferson continued, his voice bringing Max back to the lecture.
Victoria's phone vibrated. Unlike other teachers, Mr. Jefferson didn't care if smartphones were out so long as they weren't used. It was just another reason he was supercool. Ignoring it, Victoria declared, "Diane Arbus."
"There you go, Victoria! Why Arbus?" Mr. Jefferson pressed, turning all of his attention towards her.
Sitting up straighter, Victoria smiled smugly. She always became overly satisfied whenever Mr. Jefferson even batted an eye towards her. "Because of her images of hopeless faces. You feel, like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children," she replied, ending her comment with a sympathetic frown.
"She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it's bullshit." That caused a bit of a stir in the classroom, and Max felt her own eyes widen. Even now, no one was used to hearing a teacher cuss. Mr. Jefferson brought a finger to his lips. "Shh, keep that to yourself." Rising to his feet, he started to pace about, his gaze flickering from one student to another. His gaze lingered on Max a moment longer than the others. "Seriously, though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious? What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty and innocence? She had a brilliant eye, so she could have taken another approach."
Max smiled. It seemed that Mr. Jefferson had taken her recommendation. Although it wasn't quite what she had expected, he was getting closer to talking about himself and his own reasons for photography. In the corner of her eye, Max could see Victoria shift uncomfortably. She knew her well enough to know what was coming next. Victoria couldn't stand not having a similar opinion to Mr. Jefferson. It was as if she worried it meant he would like her less. However, Max was pretty certain that wasn't possible. "I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of her work. I prefer…" Her hesitation gave her intentions away. "...Robert Frank."
Max resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She grabbed her camera instead. As she looked at it, she couldn't help but think that this would be a good moment to capture. A new Max, confident in her love life. For once. Lowering it, she angled it to get a sly selfie of herself. The flash popped up, causing spots in her eyes as she looked away. The room stirred. Obviously, they had not forgotten what happened the last time Max took a picture during a lecture.
"Shhh, I believe Max has taken what you kids call a 'selfie.' A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Max… has a gift," Mr. Jefferson noted, a smile tugging at his lips. Max felt her heart race as the full force of his gaze landed on her. Burning, his eyes seared through her. Then he broke it just as quickly. "Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation was not the first to use images for selfie-expression."
Max tried to hide her grimacing smile.
Mr. Jefferson hesitated a moment, clearly reconsidering his statement. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. The point remains that portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around. Now, Max, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?"
Max felt every gaze but one shift to her. Hayden was still invested in his class time nap. Nervous, Max thought back to the reading that she had done the night before. She really had thrown herself into her studies now that she could focus on it.
"Um… The Daguerreian Process. Invented by a French painter named… Louis Daguerre. Around 1830," she answered uncertainly. Max wasn't exactly an academic star, after all, and she always tripped over those French names.
"Someone has been reading as well as posing. Nice work, Max."
Victoria glared at Max in annoyance. Max already knew that this was going to come back to bite her. In the end, Victoria always had a way of "getting even" with whoever she felt slighted her. Max paid her no heed. No matter how bitter she got, she couldn't do anything about Max's newfound confidence. And whatever she came up with, Max would take with stride.
"The Daguerreian Process made portraiture hugely popular, mainly because it gave the subjects clear, defined features. You can learn more when you actually finish reading the assigned chapters. Max is, so far, way ahead of everybody," Mr. Jefferson praised.
The bell rang, ending class. Hiding her pleasure, Max began to collect her items, keeping her head down.
Mr. Jefferson began to talk faster as he watched his students all start to rise. "And guys, don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the 'Everyday Heroes' Contest! I will fly out with the winner to San Francisco, where you'll be feted by the art world. It's great exposure, and it can kickstart a career in photography. So Stella and Alyssa, get it together. Taylor, don't hide. I'm still waiting for your entry, too. And yes, Max, I can see you pretending not to see me."
Mr. Jefferson's a natural.
Victoria was approaching his desk, already seeking attention. Max replayed Mr. Jefferson's words in her mind. She had a gift. And clearly, he wanted her to submit her photo for the contest. She plucked her photograph from her journal, where she had kept it hidden for quite some time. Everything else, she tucked away.
Max looked over to see Kate still in her chair, dejectedly staring at the floor. Max's heart went out to her again. No one deserved to be bullied, but especially not someone as angelic as Kate. Walking over, Max wondered if Kate would react poorly to her nosiness again. "Hi, Kate."
Glossy eyes slowly came into focus as Kate turned her head. "Oh, hi, Max," she replied, her voice more monotonous than ever. She clearly hadn't been paying attention.
"You seem… quiet today," Max noted, trying to tread lightly with her words. It was hard to gauge Kate's reaction.
Kate looked away, staring off into space. "Just thinking too much…"
Concern flaring, Max said, "I hear that. W-would you want to go grab a cup o' tea and bitch about life?"
"Thanks, but not today. I have to go over homework," Kate dismissed. She blinked and looked up at Max again. It seemed the circles under her eyes were darker than before.
Max figured that would be her response, but she wasn't about to give up on her friend. "No worries. Let's hang later."
"Sure," Kate said, her voice conveying she had no intention of following that up.
That's fine because I will.
Max turned away, leaving her alone. If she wanted to talk about the video, she would in her own time. Until then, though, Max would just have to keep extending her hand, no matter how many times it was slapped away. Because she knew, whether Kate wanted to admit it or not, that Kate needed someone to be unconditionally on her side right now.
I hope her family is giving her that, at least.
Probably a far-fetched idea, given the fact that her father was a preacher. But maybe her sisters or mother were showing her the love and support that she deserved. Max certainly hoped so.
"I just really think 'Everyday Heroes' is an important cultural event, and I want to represent Blackwell Academy!" Victoria insisted, her voice splicing through Max's eardrums.
Does she ever not suck up to him?
"You have by just participating. By putting yourself out there in the world. And no matter who wins, this is just a bump on a bigger road. I don't want anybody to feel excluded from this process. But I also want everybody to know that this photographic world is not for everybody. I had my moment in the camera eye, and everybody should have that chance, right?" Mr. Jefferson explained. Truly, his patience with her could be likened to a saint. Max didn't know how he still managed to be so civil.
"Oh, totally! I only want to share whatever gifts I have with the world-!" Victoria started.
Stopping a foot away, Max softly called out, "Excuse me, Mr. Jefferson? Can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Yes, excuse you," Victoria sneered, standing up straight. Her lip curled in slight disgust. Since Max got her confidence back, Victoria had gone back to being the Blackwell Bitch she had always been. And her judgement of Max was starting to become a public spectacle.
Mr. Jefferson raised an eyebrow in displeasure. "No, Victoria, excuse us. I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture."
Max hid her smile. He certainly hadn't needed to say all that, but it made her feel good that he did. Huffing, Victoria turned around and shot Max one last dirty look before walking away. Max shuffled her feet. Now that Victoria was gone, Max's nerves were starting to get the best of her. She could feel her heart racing up to her throat. What if it wasn't good enough? What if he rejected her photograph? What other idea could she possibly have?
Before she lost too much gumption, she held out her photograph. "Here's my entry for the 'Everyday Heroes' contest."
Mr. Jefferson took the photograph gingerly, as though it were a snowball ready to crumble. Clearly, he had been taken off-guard by the fact Max was actually turning in a photograph. "Well, I, uh, I can't pre-judge yet, but I am very happy you decided to enter. It means a lot to me…" Glancing around the room, he found Kate still there. "... and Blackwell! The first step for any artist is to put themselves out there in the world without fear." Then, in a lower tone, he added, "I'm proud of you, Max."
Max nodded in acknowledgement before taking a step back. She didn't really have anything else to say. Or, at least, she didn't with Kate still loitering about. And perhaps Kate was waiting for some alone time with Mr. Jefferson to talk to him about whatever was on her mind. Max certainly hoped so. After all, Kate needed someone to lean on. Mr. Jefferson wasn't a bad choice, given how understanding he could be.
Stepping outside the classroom, Max let out a breath. She still couldn't believe she had done it. She had actually turned in her selfie for the contest! Part of her was thrilled. Her heart was still pounding. However, the other part of her was still uneasy. But Mr. Jefferson seemed to genuinely like it. And he was even proud of her. It made her feel like she was in a dream.
I need a serious time out in the bathroom to collect myself.
Max headed down the hall, filtering past Juliet and her boyfriend and Daniel and his bullies. She caught a glimpse of Brooke playing some video game, obviously annoyed by it. And then there was Dana and Justin. Dana was laughing at something he said. She noticed Samuel had already started up with his mopping. He was mumbling to himself as he normally did. Although most of the students found him creepy, Max just knew he was misunderstood. They never talked to him. Max had found some time here and there, whenever she caught him feeding the squirrels. Frankly, he seemed the lonely type. But he was also an animal lover, which let Max know that he was a good person.
Max passed by the vending machines, feeling a small pang of hunger as she did so. Lunch that day hadn't stayed in her system at all. As Warren noted, she hadn't had enough "protein." She would have to check to see if she had enough change to buy something later. Heading into the bathroom, Max pushed open the door and noticed all the stalls were open.
Empty. Good.
Walking to her favorite sink, which had a doodle of a mustache and glasses on it, Max turned the water on. She took a cleansing breath before rinsing her face. Then she stared at herself a moment as the water dripped down her face. Had she really made the right decision? Or should she have gone out of her comfort zone more? Found a true "everyday hero" like Kate did?
Just relax. Stop torturing yourself. You have "a gift."
Max walked over to the towels and grabbed one before drying her face off. She was careful to be mindful around her makeup, not wanting to smear it. After pitching the towel, she went to leave. A flutter caught her attention in her peripheral vision. Turning, Max watched as a butterfly fluttered in and behind the stalls. She tilted her head as she walked towards it.
Turning the corner, she found the butterfly had landed perfectly on the rim of a bucket. She stopped where she was not, wanting to scare it away. Then slowly, she reached for her camera. After all, photo ops like this didn't happen everyday. She took a step closer, lowering the camera to get a better snap. The flash popped, spooking the butterfly, but she had her photo. Standing up, she noticed it landed on the sink. Then the bathroom door opened.
"It's cool, Nathan. Don't stress. You're okay, bro. Just count to three. Don't be scared. You know this school. If I wanted to, I could blow it up. You're the boss!"
Max startled. What was Nathan Prescott doing in the girls' bathroom? And what was he so paranoid about? Taking a step back, Max hid her feet behind the bucket. It would be best if she remained hidden until he left.
The door opened again. Max hoped it was Victoria, there to convince Nathan to leave.
"So what do you want?" Nathan snapped, his feet squeaking on the clean tiles.
Definitely not Victoria then.
A vaguely familiar voice replied, "I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step ass would say." Max could hear the sound of stall doors being opened. Holding her breath, she waited for the girl to find her. However, she stopped halfway down. "Now, let's talk bidness."
"I got nothing for you," Nathan stated, his tone cold. He was standing his ground. Max imagined that he probably dealt with this type of problem all the time, given what he was into.
The girl scoffed. "Wrong. You got hella cash."
"That's my family, not me," Nathan snapped back, sounding remarkably annoyed. Max thought it was strange, how he differentiated his family's money from his own. Most rich kids she knew had the "what's yours is mine" mentality.
"Oh, boo hoo. Poor little rich kid," the girl mocked. Her voice sounded more and more familiar. Max wondered if she had met her at orientation. "I know you been pumpin' drugs 'n shit to kids around here. I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now!"
Max had to admit, this girl had the more audacity than most to threaten Nathan Prescott. She wondered why they couldn't have met earlier. Certainly, Max would have loved to have been her friend. She would have put Nathan in his place whenever he gave Max a hard time.
"Leave them out of this, bitch," Nathan snarled, stamping one foot on the ground.
"I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!" she continued, her voice getting louder. If anyone was outside the bathroom, no doubt they would have heard that.
Suddenly, a commotion followed with a scuffle. Nathan yelled, "You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!"
"Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!" the girl abruptly pleaded. Her voice had lost all of its previous edginess.
Something's wrong.
With that, Max dared to peek around the corner. Nathan was brandishing a pistol. Max tasted her own fear in her mouth.
"Don't ever tell me what to do. I'm so sick of people trying to control me!" Nathan exclaimed, waving the gun around slightly. He was clearly unsteady with it, his aim dropping from her face to her chest in the matter of moments.
"You are going to get in hella more problems for this than drugs," the girl tried to reason. Nathan was blocking her face, and all Max could see was her anime-blue hair.
Shoving the gun into the girl's gut, Nathan jeered, "Nobody would ever miss your 'punk ass,' would they?"
"Get that gun away from me, psycho!" she screamed, struggling against him.
Just like that, the gun went off. The girl collapsed to the ground. Nathan staggered backwards, as if trying to process for himself what he had just done. Immediately, Max wanted to get out of sight. She stumbled over the bucket, though, causing it to clatter across the ground. As she watched it, willing it to come back, she felt a need to vomit rising.
"Who the fuck is there?" Nathan demanded, his voice cracking. His footsteps let her know that he was coming her way.
Oh, no. I'm not letting you kill me, too.
Adrenaline surged throughout her body as that thought registered. Max had already had her graze with death. Looking around, she found more cleaning supplies behind her. Nathan came into her field of vision with his gun arm out. Swiftly, Max grabbed it and yanked him as hard as she could before pushing him into the cleaning supplies. The large bucket fell over, scattering everything about upon him.
Max ran. She barely noticed the blunette as she leapt over her. She only knew that she had to get more distance between her and Nathan Prescott. Or else he was going to catch her and kill her, too. She reached the door within seconds. Grasping the cold, metal doorknob, she pulled with all her might. The door gave with ease, but it hit the dead girl's body and stopped. There was just enough space for Max to slip out. As she slid through, she could hear Nathan's footsteps gaining behind her.
Running towards the exit, she instinctively glanced down the hallway to notice Mr. Jefferson walking her direction. She turned and started sprinting towards him. Tears starting to well in her eyes as everything hit her. "Mr. Jefferson!" she cried out, her panic pushing the pitch of her voice higher.
"What is it, Max? What happened?" Mr. Jefferson inquired. He was running towards her as he spoke.
"It's Nathan Prescott. He has a gun! He shot a girl in the girls' bathroom, and now he's coming after me, too!" Max explained, her words tumbling out so quickly that they almost became one. She stopped right in front of him, shaking.
Mr. Jefferson's eyes hardened, as though he was steeling himself. "Max, get Madsen. I'm going to see if I can calm Nathan down," he ordered.
"Mr. Jefferson, no. He'll shoot you-" Max tried to protest, grabbing Mr. Jefferson's arm.
"Max, do as I say!" he bellowed as he shook free from her. Then, as if he realized his reaction, he explained, "You're the only one I can count on. And we can't have Nathan fleeing the scene."
Sobered by those words, Max felt her own resolve harden. She turned and ran, her bag bouncing against her as she did so. She didn't care. Not about the dull ache it caused or the pain in her legs or the strain of her lungs. Mr. Jefferson was depending on her, and she had to stop Nathan from getting away with this. He murdered someone. No amount of family money would make this go away.
It can't. Not as long as I'm alive.
Max took the stairs at a full dash, the toes of her shoes barely touching down lifting to reach the next. Mr. Madsen's office was on the second floor, a temporary arrangement as they finished setting up the last of the surveillance cameras. It allowed him to work undisturbed. Rushing up to Mr. Madsen's office, she banged on the door in a flurry. It opened, and he stared down at her in shock from the other side. "What is it, girl?"
"Mr. Madsen, you have to get to the girls' bathroom now. Nathan Prescott shot a girl, and now Mr. Jefferson's in there with him!" she told him, pulling him out by his arm. She couldn't wait for him to process what she was saying. They needed to move.
Just like that, Mr. Madsen began to run. He hit the door to the stairs with such force that it almost hit her face as she followed. He was faster than her, more fit, and his strides easily doubled her own. However, Max's adrenaline was still pumping. She could keep up, her shoes echoing in the nearly empty halls. As they ran, Mr. Madsen brought his phone up to his ear.
"Yes, I have an emergency at Blackwell Academy. A student's been shot on the first floor bathroom just inside the entrance. Send the police and a paramedic immediately," he shouted into his phone. He sounded surprisingly cool and assertive. Then again, this probably wasn't the first time he had dealt with gunfire and death.
As they neared the bathroom, Max started to naturally slow down. Her energy was wearing, the moment of adrenaline now gone from her system. Mr. Madsen continued to jog, undeterred by Max falling behind.
"Nathan, just give me the gun, and this'll all be over," Mr. Jefferson coaxed, his voice audible.
Relief flooded Max when she heard his voice. Her legs complained as she pushed forward. However, she could only process one thing.
Mr. Jefferson's still alive.
Nathan's voice broke as he replied, "You don't get it, Mr. Jefferson. I didn't mean to shoot her!'
"But you did. Now you have to face the consequences of those actions," Mr. Jefferson explained, still keeping a soothing tone.
"No, don't come near me! I'll shoot!" Nathan suddenly screamed.
Something clattered, and another gunshot rang out. Max felt as though her heart was tearing in half. She staggered to a halt as David Madsen was reached the door. Pushing it open, he stepped into the bathroom with his taser up. "Drop the weapon!" he shouted.
Too late.
Her eyes welled with tears, and she took a few steps back before sinking to the floor. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she folded her arms over them to hide her face. No one could see her like this. Not with her emotions hanging out on her sleeve like that. Her tears dotted the floor with her pain. Mr. Jefferson had depended on her. She had been the only one he thought he could rely upon. And she had failed him.
And you thought you were some fucking "Everyday Hero."
The cruel irony nestled alongside her guilt. She made no noise as she cried, not wanting anyone to hear her misery. Not that anyone would understand anyway. How could they? And even if they had known, they would say that the relationship had been but a burst. They didn't understand. They couldn't.
"This isn't happening," Mr. Madsen said, his voice breaking. Max could hear the pain in his voice. He then howled, "You killed my wife's child, the sick fucker! You took away my step-daughter!"
"Mr. Madsen!" Principal Wells yelled.
Glancing up, Max watched as Principal Wells pushed his way into the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of Mr. Madsen cradling the punk girl in his arms. He held her head so that she faced him, and agony was etched over every feature. Truly, he had loved her, even if she wasn't his by birth.
"Mr. Madsen, there are two dead. We need to leave the scene as undisturbed as we can for the detectives," Principal Wells explained, placing a hand on Mr. Madsen's shoulder.
Max averted her eyes as the door shut. Her stomach churned, wanting to release its contents. As if it would help. At least Nathan wouldn't be able to get away with this. No money in the world would keep him out of jail. Not with Max taking the stand. And she would absolutely take the stand if that's what it took to see him behind bars. Tears streamed down her cheeks again.
"Max," Mr. Jefferson's voice called out.
Great, you must be losing your mind already.
"Max, I need you to try to collect yourself. The police are on their way. They'll want to question you." A hand ran through her hair, familiar in its soothing touch.
Eyes snapping up, Max found Mr. Jefferson in front of her. His face and shirt were splattered with red, his hair mussed, and his glasses were askew. However, when she searched for a wound, she couldn't see anything apparent. She blinked a few times before grasping his arms to make sure that he was there. Honestly, she was terrified he was just a figment of her imagination. But her fingers pressed into his warm flesh. Proof. Confused, he gripped hers back, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles into her forearms.
"I-I thought… I thought you were dead," Max breathed out, her voice breaking with pain. Her tears didn't cease, although they dropped now for a wholly different reason. "I thought Nathan killed you."
"Oh, Max, no, he didn't kill me, but..." Mr. Jefferson replied. His eyes cast downwards, and Max finally processed just what that red splattering was. "I'm afraid I had to act in self-defense."
Principal Wells' words rang in her mind again.
Nathan Prescott's dead.
Max knew that she should feel good about this. Nathan had killed that girl and bullied plenty of others, including Max herself. But instead, seeing Mr. Jefferson covered in blood and having just witnessed a murder, Max felt remarkably numb. She mutely nodded before forcing herself up. Mr. Jefferson stood with her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Hugging herself, Max walked outside of the building to find police cars and flashing lights. Some officers were setting up barricades whilst others were forcing students back. Anyone who wasn't in the building wasn't allowed back inside. Max noticed some familiar faces, including Victoria, who looked horrified. It seemed like she wasn't taking the shot now. And Max, quite frankly, preferred it that way. She would rather not be captured in this shell-shocked state.
A couple of officers sprinted past them, their hands on their guns as they headed into the building. One young officer glanced at them before stopping. For a moment, he sized Mr. Jefferson up. He then stepped backwards and placed a hand out in front of Mr. Jefferson to stop him. When Max felt Mr. Jefferson's hand suddenly disappear, she halted as well. She glanced back, tensing when the officer stepped in between her and Mr. Jefferson.
"Sir, I need you to come with me," the officer stated.
Max panicked. She hadn't realized just how much she relied upon his presence to keep her calm. But them taking him away now made her feel as though she was drowning in a cascade of emotions. Shaking, she stared at Mr. Jefferson with wide eyes as she tried to voice her concern. Her tongue felt fat and flopped uselessly in her mouth.
"Shh, Max, it's alright," Mr. Jefferson soothed. He placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed circles into it. The touch was grounding. "He has to take a statement from me. So breathe deep."
Coming to her senses, Max breathed deeply just as he said. "S-sorry," she murmured before taking a step back.
"Are you a witness as well?" the officer inquired. He had a concerned look in his eye. Max knew that he thought she was a kid. But a kid doesn't witness a murder, no matter their age.
She murmured, "Yes. I am."
"We'll need you to come down to the station to give a statement as well then," the officer responded. Waving a hand, he flagged down a female cop, who turned with the grace of a runway model. "Officer Kane will bring you in for questioning."
"I understand," Max murmured as the female blonde approached her.
"What's up, Wilcox?" she inquired once she was close enough.
Officer Wilcox motioned to Max. "She's a witness to the crime that took place here."
"Oh." With that, Officer Kane's expression changed as well. She wrapped a friendly arm around Max's shoulder. Max fought the urge to pull out of it. "Come on, dear."
Mindlessly, Max started down the stairs. She heard Officer Wilcox say, "Now, sir, I'm going to have to handcuff you as per safety protocol. Do you understand?"
Max wanted to turn and scream at him. To let them all know that Mr. Jefferson, of all people, did not deserved to be handcuffed. But before she could do any of that, Mr. Jefferson stated, "Of course. Do whatever you must."
"What's your name, dear?" Officer Kane suddenly asked. Her hazel eyes practically wept with her sympathy for Max.
Max answered, "Max Caulfield."
"That's a pretty name, Max. Is it short for Maxine?"
"Yes, but I don't go by Maxine. Ever," Max informed her curtly. Her tone probably came off sharper than she intended, given the somewhat shocked expression on the officer's face. But Max knew she probably shouldn't make enemies with an officer. After all, it wasn't this woman's fault that all this happened. "I only get called Maxine when I'm in trouble. I prefer to keep it that way."
"I understand," Officer Kane stated before opening the back of her squad car. "Watch your head."
Ducking down, Max sat in the back seat and listened as the car door closed. She stared at the grated window in front of her, which blocked her from having direct access to the police officer. Silently, she scanned about. She had never been in the back of a squad car before. It was smaller than most cars, not that that was too much of an issue. Max herself was pretty small, so she still had legroom.
They drove without a word being exchanged. Max appreciated it. Even now, she was trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. Nathan Prescott had killed a girl. And then he tried to kill Mr. Jefferson. Only, he wound up losing his life instead. It had been quite the emotional rollercoaster. And Max still felt as though it hadn't quite stopped yet.