LXVIII

Max rubs her hands together in a vain attempt to warm them. "I… Can we go back inside? It's cold…"

"Sure."

Eleven guides her to the living room. Max takes a seat in front of the fireplace with a sigh.

"Here." She hands her friend a blanket before sitting next to her; Max accepts it with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

"I did… what I said I'd do," Max explains. "And things got out of control. I tried to call you, but… I couldn't stay there a moment longer."

The girl suppresses a grimace and just nods to urge her to continue.

"We had a huge fight. Mom, Neil, and me," she clarifies. "Billy wasn't home… That's exactly why I chose that moment.

"The day before the dance I hinted at Mom… that I found out that Neil was abusing his ex-wife. Abusing Billy's mom. And she just changed the subject and assured me that 'people change'." Max rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure they do, but the way Neil treats Billy… No, he hasn't changed.

"I think," Max concludes, "that Billy is… the way he is with me because it's his way of dealing with things."

"But it's not okay," Eleven interrupts with a frown. "He can't be cruel to you… because others are cruel to him…"

"No, of course," agrees her friend. "I'm not saying it's okay and I'm not going to let it go. I'm just saying I get it."

That's not something she can blame her for; after all, Henry has done much worse than Billy, and Eleven…

Eleven gets it.

I won't think about him now, she tells herself, though. Max needs me…

So, she only nods her head to indicate she understands.

"So… since Mom didn't pay much attention to me…" Max takes a deep breath. "I went straight to Neil."

Eleven raises both eyebrows. Max bites her bottom lip and nods.

"Yeah, and… it didn't end well…"

It's a casual move, one Eleven has seen her do a thousand times: with one of her hands, her friend brushes her hair back to reveal her face.

Only now, instead of showing her snowy skin, a huge bruise covers almost the entirety of her cheek.

The lights flash repeatedly. Max watches everything with an expression between surprised and terrified.

I'm trying to take a shower, the thought slips neatly into Eleven's mind. Control yourself.

She sighs and closes her eyes.

"Is it you? The one that is doing this?" asks Max.

"Yes, but… But Henry already told me to calm down and… I'm sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Max looks at her like she's crazy. "Excuse me, did you just say that Henry spoke to you? Henry, who's upstairs?"

Eleven sighs; the lights finally return to normal. "In my mind," she clarifies.

"Oh, right, in your mind," Max repeats sardonically. "Wow, that's obvious, Max, how come you didn't notice?"

The obviously ironic tone makes Eleven smile. However, she doesn't fall for her friend's obvious attempts to assuage her concern: "What are you going to do?"

It's Max who sighs now.

"I don't know," she admits, glancing down at the flames consuming the wood inside the fireplace. "I… What is the script for this?" It's a rhetorical question, but uncertainty eats at her insides. "What is one supposed to do in cases like this?"

Eleven is silent, and Max knows that she can't expect her friend to fix her life for her. However, Eleven surprises her with her sudden offer:

"You can stay here until… As long as you want."

Max's expression fluctuates between relief and hope. "That would help me a lot," she confesses. "But shouldn't you first ask—?"

"It's alright."

Both girls turn around. Behind the sofa, arms folded, blond hair still wet from his shower, Henry watches them intently. Max thinks about it again: the man is incredibly handsome.

And he reads minds.

She forces herself to think, instead, of the great favor they are both doing to her.

"Oh. Thank you…"

Eleven doesn't thank him—at least not out loud—but Max sees her smile.

And the smile with which Henry answers her.