Chapter Six

The next morning, I heard the two most beautiful words ever spoken to anyone who has ever had to endure the public education system: Snow Day.

And then, of course, it was ruined five minutes later. Between bites of homemade waffle and perfectly burnt bacon, Mrs. Fremont destroyed my vision of lying in bed for the rest of the day when she said:

"Fang, since there's no school today, why don't you take Max to get some warmer clothes? I can't live knowing she's out there in rags."

I looked down at my threadbare thermal and frowned. I didn't think it looked that bad.

"Sure, Mom. After the plows come through. Good with you?" Fang asked, shifting his dark gaze towards me.

"That's really not necessary," I said, shoving scrambled eggs through a puddle of leftover syrup. "I feel like I've taken too much from you guys already." In my head I was already counting up everything I owed them, and it was way too much to ever pay back, which made guilt settle like a rock in my stomach.

(You're such a burden on everyone.)

"It's no trouble, Max, really. I miss having a girl your age to dote on." Her eyes were soft and sad, and she wiped her mouth with her napkin before picking up her plate and carrying it to the sink. I glanced at Fang and Angel, who were both avoiding my eye, and looked over at the back of Mrs. Fremont's blonde head.

"I'm going to lay back down for a little while. I'll leave my debit card out for you guys," Mrs. Fremont said without turning to look at us. She wrapped her arms around herself and left the room, moving slowly and sort of hunched over, as if it hurt her to be upright.

I turned to Fang and opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a sharp shake of his head.

"Angel, you coming with us or staying?" he asked Angel. Her blue eyes were cloudy and far away looking.

"I'll stay," she answered, her voice small. Fang dropped a kiss on top of her blonde curls.

"Why don't you go play? Or you could lay back down with momma?" He grabbed her empty plate and stacked it on top of his own, then stacked it on top of mine. "I'll take care of these later."

She hopped off her seat and ran out of the room, her pink nightgown fluttering out behind her.

"Are you going to tell me what just happened?" I asked as soon as I heard her door slam shut.

He stared at me from across the table for a few quiet moments before answering, "You have your secrets. I have mine."

He picked up the plates and moved to the sink.

"Just pick something so we can go," Fang muttered, irritation bleeding out of his voice. My back was to him, and I ignored him, my fingers brushing over soft, warmly colored sweaters. The wire hangers screeched over the metal rack as I pushed them back and forth, looking at all of them. They were beautiful. I didn't want to look at the price tags.

"It's too much," I whispered, letting my hand fall away from the sweaters. "Why couldn't we have just gone to goodwill like I wanted to?"

"Mom forbid it," he said, shrugging. I glanced at him in irritation and had to smother a small grin. He looked out of place here, clothed head to toe in black and surrounded by the pastels and floral patterns of this over-priced department store.

"I can't remember the last time I came to the mall with the intent of buying something," I said, turning to face him. "I can't decide."

"That one," he said, pointing over my shoulder. "Can we go?"

I looked at the one he had pointed at; it was an olive green, cashmere, slightly over-sized in that way that seemed popular now. It was the last one in that style. I mentally crossed my fingers and peeked at the tag.

It was my size.

I picked it up off the rack and smiled to myself. It was the nicest thing I had ever gotten to touch, let alone wear. I lifted it to my face and inhaled. It smelled fresh, like plastic and something sweet, which was so unlike literally anything I had ever owned. It didn't smell like it had been worn a hundred times before it ever reached my hands.

"I like it," I finally said. I faced Fang and was surprised to see him grinning softly. "What?" I asked, tucking my hair behind my ear and feeling my face flame.

"You look like a dork, sniffing clothes." He snorted and took the sweater from me. "Pick out some more. Hurry, I'm hungry again. It's lunch time."

I ended up with six new sweaters in all different colors, a few new pairs of jeans, a pair of snow boots, a few thermal shirts to wear under things, and countless pairs of socks by the time we quit for lunch, an hour later.

I was in the process of devouring a slice of pizza the size of my head while Fang was picking through his Chinese food. The food court was noisy, children screaming and their mothers trying to scream over them or at them or both. We were sat against a wall at the far side, under a giant skylight. I looked up, squinting against the weak sunlight that managed to bleed through the clouds. It was still snowing.

"You thought about talking to someone? About what happened?"

"Have you ever thought about talking in complete sentences?" I countered, shooting him a glare and eating the remaining bite of my pizza.

He rolled his eyes. "No."

"That was one," I muttered. I dropped the crust onto my paper plate and wiped the grease from my mouth and fingers, then leaned back in my chair and sighed. "Therapy is for whiny, rich babies who have nothing better to do than to complain about their problems to someone who is getting paid to listen. No thanks, I don't need my head shrunk." I threw my balled up napkin on to the table.

"It helps," is all he said, avoiding my eyes.

"Tell me about Lissa," I said, changing the subject. He blinked, finally making eye contact.

"What about her?"

"Well, what's she like?" I pulled a drink of coke from my straw and cupped my chin in my palm, my elbow resting on the table.

"Um. Funny, I guess. Smart. Good in bed."

I winced and pulled my arm off the table, wrapping them both around myself. He grimaced and rubbed his knuckles on his eyebrow.

"Sorry. That was a stupid fucking thing to say. I wasn't thinking."

"Wow, three whole sentences? You should be an insensitive prick more often, if it gets that much out of you, Chatty Cathy." My voice sounded bitter and harsh, even to my own ears. My palms were sweating. I was itching for a cigarette but I was out and I hadn't had a chance to get a new pack.

"I'm really sorry."

I looked up and met his gaze, and I was surprised by how intense it was. He was being genuine.

I nodded. "'S okay."

He drummed his fingers on the table and looked around the room. He was practically vibrating with nervous energy now. "She's gonna break up with me."

"Pardon?"

"Lissa. She'll dump me any day now."

"How could you possibly know that?" I asked. He grinned, lighting fast. If I had blinked, I would've missed it.

"She's fucking a guy on the wrestling team."

"Oh. Shit. I'm sorry?" I raised an eyebrow, swallowing down the bad feeling in my throat, shoving the pictures out of my head. "You don't seem that upset."

He shrugged. "'Cause I'm not. It ran its course. It's over. Why waste the energy being upset?"

I stared at his profile, eyes tracing olive skin and thick, dark eyelashes, a strong jawline and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. He was attractive, objectively speaking.

"Who's Ella?" I asked, finally voicing the question that had been plaguing me since I first heard her name. His eyes shot towards me, narrowing.

"Don't."

"But I-"

"Just. Don't, Max. Not here. Not now." He grabbed his soda and stood up. "Come on, let's go before the roads get bad again."

"Have an offer for you."

I looked up from the bed that was technically mine while I was here. Fang was standing in the doorway of Angel's room. "Oh yeah? What's that?" I folded down the corner of the page in my book and tossed it to the side, pushing myself up on my knees. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"If you come out with me and my friends tonight, I'll let you smoke with us."

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth and bit down, thinking. The words 'NOT SAFE' were flashing in my head like a giant neon sign. But on the other hand, I would kill to get high right now.

"Fine. But nobody touches me and nobody talks to me."

"I won't let them."

I pursed my lips and studied his eyes for signs of falsehood, but I didn't find any.

"Okay."