Today is particularly warm for what it usually is in August. A high front coming up from California was giving the clouds and rain a run for their money, and many times she had been tempted to visit the beach and join the many families and tourists flocking to catch some sunlight and surf.
Kate sighed, and turned away from the bright rays gleaming through her dorm's window blinds. She looks down at the two grey leather suitcases on her floor next to the bed.
Today was move-in day. She'd still have to get these two suitcases unpacked, one full of clothes and the other with other various possessions she brought along with her. She figured it to be better that she get her things in order before she went off to explore.
A costly endeavor it was, however. By the time she had everything unloaded, it was coming to early evening, and the curfew would soon be in effect. One would see militiamen walking the streets of Arcadia right about when the sun would set, and that was one's best indication to return home and tuck in for the night. Nobody with any sense in them ventures out after dark.
Kate's hands clutch at a picture frame, the last of her things to be unpacked. The faces of her, her parents, and her two sisters smiled up at her. A forlorn thought comes to mind: with how busy she'd be with schoolwork, it would be likely that she will not see her family until Thanksgiving break, many weeks away. She already misses them.
Well, perhaps it's better for her to get some sleep. She'd need to maintain a proper sleep schedule, after all—
A clatter comes from the hall, and Kate snaps her head to the sound of muted swearing. Curious, she treks over to her door and peeks out.
A brunette with short, chin-length hair and a plain grey jacket with jeans has somehow spilled the contents of one of her suitcases. The girl is frantic with getting her things back inside the suitcase, and fumbles constantly with the items she picks up. There's a guitar case strapped across the girl's back, and another suitcase that has been left at her feet, since now she is desperate to fix her conundrum. The brunette seems almost weighed down by her wares, and Kate notes that it doesn't seem to be doing the girl any favors.
"…hey."
The mousy brunette looks up to her, and is flushed with embarrassment, "Oh, uh-uhm, hey."
"Do you need some help, there?"
"I…uhm," the brunette floundered where she stood, then gave in, "Ah, yeah. I could use some help."
"Let me, then." Kate helps her get her things in order. Clothes and trinkets and an old-retro camera return to their places, and Kate helps the girl carry the luggage what small distance remains to her dorm room.
"Thank you, for helping me," the girl acknowledges, the guitar case smacking against the wall as she stumbled into the dorm room.
"Of course," Kate assured, "I'd hate to have such a thing happen to me, and that no one would bother to help."
Marsh leaves the suitcase at the threshold, and waits until the newcomer invites her in. Together, they level out everything the girl has and needs. Kate finds herself standing about during most of this time whilst the mousy brunette darts back and forth between her luggage, placing all her things in orders and pairs. When she's done, the room has changed into a cozy little slice of niche-aesthetic. Kate doesn't know what word to best describe it, but it suits her impression of this newcomer, with her short chestnut-brown hair and freckled face.
Her name is Max Caulfield. She just came back from Seattle after five years of absence from her hometown. Her family had been forced to leave Arcadia due to the Great Depression of 2008, when poverty had swept across the nation and left many homeless and financially insecure. Kate remembers trips to the local bank once her father came back from work, having to save his check to ensure they had enough money for all their expenses. She could only imagine what Max's family dealt with, having to move to a place far away from home.
Max is an aspiring photographer, and enjoys hiking and nature-walks. She's very reserved, and shy. She's only had one friend since childhood, and she's not good with holding conversations, regardless of whether they're in person or via text message. Max enrolled in Blackwell to pursue a potential photography career in a university or college, although she does not know which institution she would pick once she graduates.
But that's all Kate can talk out of Max before the latter's room is fixed, and there's no more reason for Kate to stay. So, she bids Max a farewell, "Well, if that's all, then I'll be taking my leave now—"
"Wait!" the brunette calls. Marsh turns back from her spot on the threshold, "Yes?"
"Could we, uhm, exchange numbers? I'd…I'd like to meet again, sometime."
"Sure," Kate smiles. She offers her phone number and Max does the same, "Next time, I can return the favor and tell you all about me. How about you join me in my room tomorrow? I'm across the hall and one room over."
"Sure," Max smiles back, "Thanks again, for your help."
"No problem."
Kate went back to her dorm, and felt this kindling flame in her heart. A flame of friendship this was, and it burned like a light in the dark as she fell asleep, and comforted her when the cold set in.
Max met her in the early afternoon the next day, and was received by Kate with a kettle and teacups. Max wasn't the kind to try new things, but with her new friend, she'd make an exception. Chamomile tea soon became Caulfield's favorite flavor, right after Earl Grey and lemon.
Kate talked about her time in Arcadia, and her family, and her sisters. She talks of how she has been living in Arcadia her whole life, from back when curfews were not the norm and militiamen would not roam the streets once the sun set. But these facts seem to scare the brunette—
"The whole town?" she gasped, her tea cup shivering the slightest.
"Ah, well—that's a bit of an exaggeration," Kate corrected, "They are, however, always guarding the town hall. You cannot enter the intersections surrounding the building without being stopped by them."
"That…doesn't seem good."
"It's become a sort of unspoken rule, to stay away from the town hall if you're not part of the militia or with the Prescotts. It's troublesome, especially when the townsfolk have their grievances about what happens here, but nobody dares to try and protest how they really feel," Kate sighs, and sips from her own tea cup, "The Prescotts pay for the salaries of the militia through the funding they give to the town officials, many of whom are not good people. My Dad works at the post office, and he sees the kinds of blackmail and threats they send to each other and to folks like us."
"…Seattle was like that, too," Max piped up, "I wasn't paying attention to it much, but there was this union-mob-syndicate thing that controlled the area we lived in, and they had these big trucks to scare people into giving them right of way. If you didn't pay for their "protection," then they'd force you into debt to make you work for them. That's why we moved back here—my Dad was being threatened over not paying what they wanted, and we left before things got really bad."
Kate hummed in sympathy, sipping from her cup, "The world seems like it's not going to get any better. Not without some divine intervention, at least."
Max chuckled at that, "I'd hope not. The last time God did that, he flooded the Earth or did something crazy, right?"
"Yes, he did," Marsh concurred, "Though he did promise he wouldn't do something like that ever again. But I'm not meaning to make it seem religious, but rather that good people ought to stick together, so that whatever may happen, it will not be so catastrophic as to sweep us all away."
Max nodded in agreement, then shifted the conversation, "…do you know a lot of people here, at Blackwell?"
Kate tilted her head in thought, "I know a few, but that's it. I don't have any close relations with most of the people here, but if you pointed out someone in particular I could probably recognize them. If I were you, I'd try to be friendly with as many people as you can, so that you won't have to feel so alone all the time."
"Hey, I'm not alone all the time," Max pouted, much to Kate's amusement, "It's just…ah, I dunno, it's just so troublesome to make friends when everyone knows each other but I don't know anything about anyone. I feel like I'm doomed already."
"Come on now, you're not doomed," Kate encouraged, "If you can put in the effort to be my friend, then you can do the same for anyone else, you just got to have faith in yourself. Lord knows I get nervous whenever I meet strangers, but I know that if I'm confident, then I can overcome any doubts getting in my way."
Kate wondered how much those words meant to Max, once she bid farewell and promised to meet again before classes started up. Yet, she had nothing to fear; Marsh was overcome with joy once she learned that Max had taken her guidance to heart, and found friends in people she also knew. Names and faces no longer gave off intimidating vibes to Max once she discovered that confidence Kate mentioned, and soon enough Max was forming her own circle of acquaintances to which she might rely on for her schoolwork. Yet, her friendship with Kate was at the epicenter of the brunette's social life, constant and unyielding.
And it was because of this that Max found it right to speak of the trouble brewing in her heart, when September days brought the chill of autumn and the changing color of leaves reflected the change of mood for Kate's new friend. Marsh could tell it was serious by how Max refused to touch her cup of tea, choosing instead to observe the wisps of vapor float from the cup and into the air.
"…Max?"
Caulfield hesitated. Many times she pursed her lips, holding herself back at the last second. Kate waited patiently, and was rewarded with a solemn reply, "…I had a friend, from childhood. She…her name was Chloe. We used to hang out all the time and were practically inseparable," Max fidgets nervously from her spot on Kate's sofa, her eyes glancing at nothing in particular, "But, things took a turn for the worst: her Dad passed away, five years ago. Right around this time. Hurt her really bad. It got worse when the Depression hit, and my family had to move away. I told her I'd keep in touch, even if it was just by calling her from my phone."
Hands clenched into fists. Shadows hide the tears stinging the brunette's eyes, "I never reached out to her. I left her there, and never bothered to reach out. I got scared, I…I was afraid of what she'd say to me. So I never called."
Kate could see the subtle shift, where despair weighed down upon tired shoulders and the rings of exhaustion around Max's eyes took on a whole new meaning. It would not do, to let this suffering go unchecked.
So, Marsh set her cup down, and moved to sit down next to Max. An arm curled over slumped shoulders and pulled the brunette into a supportive embrace. However, Caulfield was too engrossed in herself to notice, and instinctually recoiled from Kate's proximity.
"S-shit, I'm sorry," Max shivered with dread, "I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay," Kate assured. This time, she tried taking Max's hand in hers, which seemed to ease the brunette, "I know it's not easy to speak of things like this. Take your time, don't rush. But most importantly, let it all out. Keeping it bottled up is only going to hurt you even more."
Max silently nodded. Her hand was cold in Kate's gentle grip, but it did not waver this time around.
"…I've been wondering if I could somehow run into Chloe, to see if she's still in town," Caulfield resumed, "I want to talk to her again, and tell her I'm sorry for what I've done. Yet, at the same time, I'm afraid she'll just cuss me out and make me wish I didn't come back. I don't know what to do."
It was some time before Kate could give an answer. In that meantime, she never let go of Max's hand.
"…whilst I don't know Chloe like you do, if I were her, I'd still want to talk to you even despite all that's happened," Kate shifted so that she faced towards Max, "and despite the feelings I'd have about everything, I'd have respect for you to go out of your way to meet up than to believe that our friendship is well and truly forgotten. You should try to seek her out, Max, and show her that she still means something to you."
There was a flicker of hope in Caulfield's ocean-blue eyes, and she chuckled in relief, "When you put it like that, it doesn't seem so bad. Thank you, Kate. I needed this."
"You're my friend, it's the least I can do," Kate humbly replied, "Friends stick together, and always try to help each other, no matter what."
"…could you help me look for Chloe? I—I don't expect you to, and it's okay if you don't want to—"
Max's anxious nerves still spoke for her, so Kate bid her to wait with a squeeze of the hand, "I will help you. I promise to you, that we'll find Chloe and help restore your friendship with her. Then you can introduce her to me, so that we might become good friends as well."
The determination in Kate's steady gaze carried forth this promise, and Max's shoulders eased their tension. And there, in the quiet space of the dorm room, Max promised to care for Kate as she's done for her, for this is reciprocation was the least she could do as Kate's friend. For too long, the two girls had not known the fire of this kind of friendship, but the flame warmed their hearts, and beckoned them to guard this warmth with steadfast conviction.
They would find Chloe. They would look after each other. When storm clouds loom overhead, and one of them slips into doubt and despair, the other would help them stand, and shield them from the torrent. They would become unyielding to the whirlwinds of life, and all its chaotic turbulence.