As the bus hurtled toward Arcadia Bay, Max sat with her overnight bag on her knees and her face buried in one hand, trying to run through as many scenarios as she could on what might happen next. It was hard to think straight; she'd slept poorly the last few days, her dreams swinging from miraculously patching things up between Chloe and Rachel to both of them never wanting to speak to her again. As much as she yearned to go back to Arcadia Bay to face this mess, Max also dreaded it.

Her turmoil hadn't escaped her family's notice. Yesterday, after her grandparents had taken their flight back to Ireland, her father knocked on her door, asking if she was alright.

She didn't want to answer at first, but after a bit of cajoling, he eventually got through to her.

"It's Chloe," Max confessed. "I think—no, I did something that made her really mad at me. I kept a secret from her because I didn't want her to get hurt, but now that she's found out, she doesn't want to talk to me anymore."

"Oh, I see." Her father scratched his beard in thought for a long moment. Max was glad she didn't have to tell the whole sordid story. Her dad had a knack for understanding the heart of things even without a thorough explanation. "Say, honey, would you like me to tell you a story?"

She gazed at him quizzically. "What story?"

"It's a good one," he replied. "Once upon a time, there was a curious little girl who wandered into the woods because she wanted to take pictures of butterflies."

A quivering smile appeared on Max's lips. "I'm not sure I want to hear this story."

"Of course, she quickly got lost. In her panic, she hurt her ankle by falling down a hill. And when night started to fall, she knew she was in a lot of trouble.

"Thankfully, she wasn't alone. Her best friend, the notorious Pirate Queen, bravely went into the forest to look for her. She quickly found the little girl and carried her back to her dad, who gave a lecture along with some bandages and hot chocolate." Her father gazed at her fondly. "You remember this story?"

"I remember."

"So honey, tell me—is Chloe still the same Pirate Queen?"

Max thought about it. Chloe looked different, sure, but that wasn't what he meant. He was asking if, deep down, the Chloe today would have done precisely the same thing.

"Yes, I think so."

"Then I don't think you have much to worry about," he replied. "You can patch things up the way you would in the past."

"I—I guess so. But I'm afraid of what she's gonna say to me."

"Let her say it. Then you get back to working things out. Your mom and I—" He paused. "That's what love is, hon. It's work. Sometimes, it's a fight. If you want someone to be in your life, you fight for them. Some people aren't easy, but if you wanted easy, you could have traded them for someone else. Would you trade Chloe for anyone, Max?"

"No! Never!"

"That's what I thought. And if I know Chloe, she feels the same." He patted her thigh and got up from the chair. "You know what you gotta do, hon. So get over there and do it."

At that moment, Max had never felt more grateful to grow up with her dad beside her. I promised myself when I came back here that I'd make things right, so that's what I'll do.

Well, she had sorted out as much as she could. Since her professor was absent for her afternoon class, she skipped out early to grab the next bus to Oregon. She'd messaged both Rachel and Chloe she was coming to see them. From Rachel, she got an enthusiastic reply, asking to meet at the dormitory. From Chloe, of course, she got radio silence. And that was just as well—if there was anyone alive who knew exactly what to say to hurt her, it would be Chloe.

She got off at the Arcadia Bay Avenue gas station near the corner of 3rd Street. It was a long walk to Pop's garage, so it was nearly 5 PM when she finally made it. It took a moment to figure out that the girl kneeling on the grass of the front lawn, red and huffing as she struggled to wedge a pry bar into the rim of a large tire, was Chloe Price.

Max simply stood there in mute dismay. Chloe's vibrant cobalt hair had been washed out to a pale, sickly green. Even the pink highlights Max loved had melted away, showing only streaks of Chloe's original strawberry blonde. This is how much we hurt her, thought Max, shriveling inside. She wanted to wipe all traces of Rachel away. Oh, Chloe.

Despite that, the sight of her still made Max weak at the knees. The sweat on her arms made her tattoo glisten in the afternoon light, and from this angle, she could see the definition in Chloe's shoulders, thanks to the long hours toiling at the garage.

C'mon, she chided herself. You're wasting time. You took on Jefferson, you convinced Laura Nunez, you faced a reality-destroying storm head-on. Of course you can make up with your best friend.

Chloe paused, mopping her face with a handkerchief, then picked that moment to look up and see Max standing on the sidewalk, her travel bag slung on one shoulder. Her face went blank.

Swallowing her nervousness, Max managed a tiny smile and a small wave. "H-hey, Chloe."

The punk dropped the pry bar onto the rim with a CLANG that Max felt through her teeth. "Well," she said. "If it isn't Max Caulfield. For a while there, I thought you'd be too chickenshit to even come back to Arcadia Bay."

Max's smile faltered. "I wouldn't do that to you, Chloe."

"You already did, Max. Did you forget?"

Ow. She was right—Chloe knew just how to hurt her. "I—I mean, I wouldn't do it again."

"Uh-huh." Chloe bent to pick up the pry bar and shoved it back into the tire.

"Um, so, how are you?"

"I got the living shit beat out of me last weekend, thanks. How 'bout you?"

"What?" Max watched Chloe's face, only now noticing the yellowed bruise beneath her left eye. "Chloe, what happened? I didn't know about—"

"How'd you even find me, Max?"

"...It was a lucky guess. Joyce said you hadn't come home, and I knew you couldn't afford a motel—"

"No shit."

"—So I thought to ask Pops. And if you weren't here, I'd go for American Rust next. And if you weren't there, I'd have kept looking till I found you."

"Well, you found me. What now?"

"I just wanna talk, Chloe."

"You got eyes, right? Can't you tell I'm busy?"

"Y-yeah. I can see that." Max scuffed her shoe against the payment. "But I'm not about to leave things the way they are between the three of us. You and Rachel—"

She stumbled as Chloe glared at her for saying that name, but forced the words out regardless. "There's too much at stake for the two of you to leave things like this. We have to talk about what happened."

Chloe's blue eyes narrowed to slits. "You're staying with her tonight, yeah?"

Max nodded.

"You can stay with Rachel for as long as you like, Max."

"Chloe, please." Max pulled her guilt into a stranglehold in her chest. "I'm sorry I kept—"

But Chloe turned away, dismissing her with a wave. "Max, I've got a shitload of work to finish. So if that's all you came to say to me, good job. Your work here's done. That makes one of us."

Fighting back tears, Max stated, "I'll wait here. In case you change your mind."

"Knock yourself out."

Max put her bag down on the wooden table next to the garage before hosting herself up to sit on it. She watched as Chloe finally managed to pry the rubber from the rim. "Can I help?" Max asked. But Chloe didn't even respond as she pulled the tire upright and proceeded to roll it towards the back of the garage.

I'm a useless idiot, Max told herself as she sat there alone. A minute passed with no sign of Chloe, and she wondered if she really was going to stay there by herself until night fell.

A side door opened and a friendly face poked out of the garage. "Heya, Max!"

"Oh! Um, hi, Pops."

Old-timey music spilled from the open door as he stepped onto the grass, wiping his hands on his greasy overalls. "Came to see the delinquent, huh?"

Max gave something halfway between a smile and a grimace. "Y-yeah. But I guess she doesn't wanna see me."

"I know. Sorry, couldn't help overhearing." He leaned on the table next to her. "You doing alright?"

"I'm okay, but what about Chloe?"

"Ah, you know her." He threw up his hands, grimacing. "She told me she wants out of Arcadia Bay, so she's saving up some money. I've been waiting for you to come over and talk her out of it."

Max squirmed in her seat. "Thanks for telling me. I want to try, but she's...busy."

Pops laughed and shook his bald head. "This thing she calls work?" he gestured at the tires and scattered tools on the grass. "It's bullshit. I had to keep her busy 'coz she was getting all antsy, but if I put her to work on a client's car, she gonna break something. So I told her to remove the rubber from these here spare tires. Tomorrow I'll have her put them back. Keeps her occupied and away from expensive stuff. Don't tell her, 'kay?"

Max smiled, understanding his point. "Thanks for taking care of her."

"Eh, it's all good. Anyway, now that you're here, things are bound to get better."

Max smiled and ducked her head. "How do you figure?"

"Well, you're her—you know."

"Her...what?"

"Her..." He scratched his ear. "You two—aren't you, uh...?"

Max eyed him quizzically. "Aren't we...?"

"You know what, forget I said anything." He pushed off from the table and headed for the door. "I gotta get back to work. Good luck with Chloe."

"Okay...thanks, Pops."

"Oh, and Max?" Scowling, he turned back as he was about to step into the garage. "Be careful. That psycho Jefferson's still runnin' free. Girls in town have been walking in groups to stay safe. You keep an eye out too, you hear?"

"Y-yeah. I will." Even the mere mention of that name brought a chill to Max's skin; she wondered if she'd ever be free of his shadow. Nodding, Pops disappeared back into his garage, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

For the next two hours, Max stayed where she was, sitting quietly as Chloe brought out one wheel after another to strip them of their rubber. By then, the sun had nearly set, and Max couldn't put off the inevitable.

Jumping off the table, she stretched her legs to get rid of the pins and needles in her muscles. Chloe was busy with another wheel, but Max decided it was worth one more try. "I'll be back tomorrow morning, Chloe," she said.

Chloe's only reply was a grunt as she shoved the pry bar into the wheel. Biting her lip, Max hefted her overnight bag onto her shoulder and headed back to the bus stop.

Really, what did she expect? Chloe had every right to be mad—good intentions or not, a lie of omission was still a lie. Tomorrow, she could try again and things might get better between them.

But then, why think about tomorrow when her day wasn't even over? What would Rachel be like? Would she be as gloomy? Would she maybe not walk to talk at all? Her text seemed to belie that, but still...

As Max checked her phone for any new messages, she looked up to make sure she wasn't walking into any oncoming traffic. That was when she realized she was all alone.

The sidewalks of 3rd street, which usually saw foot traffic from students walking home or perhaps tourists looking for a cafe, were strangely empty. Nothing but a few parked cars and the shadows of elms lengthening in the dimming light. Somewhere above, a raven called.

A chill cut to her bones as she remembered Pops' warning. Could Jefferson be here now, watching her? Was he in one of these parked cars? She gazed about, looking for his expensive black sedan. None of the vehicles fit the description, but they all had tinted windows, showing her reflection like black sunglasses.

She took a few rapid steps forward before halting again. Shit, I'm already halfway to the stop. Do I go back to the garage or keep going forward?

Rachel was waiting for her. The best thing to do was to push on. But with every step, her mind called up phantoms; now she was eyeing every car she passed, half-expecting it to open and reveal that familiar bearded face and salacious grin. "Ms. Caulfield, we meet again."

Get a hold of yourself. The bus stop's only two blocks away.

Was that a car door slamming behind her? It was too far to tell. Max swallowed a lump in her throat and kept walking. If she jumped at every noise, she was never going to—

Footsteps now, following her. A few rapid paces, then a pause, then a few more, catching up incrementally. Max's pace turned into a brisk walk. Her teeth were grinding against each other, and her throat and tongue had gone bone dry. She dared not turn around.

Her follower had also picked up the pace, shoes scuffing against the pavement in an effort to catch up. It would stop here and there, then return to stalking her again. Her pursuer was trying to stay hidden.

Max turned the corner, then broke into a run. Her heart sank when she saw the bus stop deserted. She had nothing to rely on except—

Max halted at the stop and spun around to face her pursuer. Reaching for her left hand, she pried open the hidden blade of her ring and held it before her at chest level. "Who's there!?" she cried.

But there was no one. Only the leaf-strewn open avenue with a blinking yellow light, a rusty stop sign, and—

A green-haired girl stepped out from behind the corner telephone pole. "Hey, hey, relax! It's me!"

"Chloe?" Flabbergasted, Max lowered the tiny blade, staring at her friend. "Jeez, you scared the crap out of me! What are you doing?"

"Nothing! I—" Chloe scratched her ear. "I—I went for a walk. Turns out you were on the same street. I wasn't trying to scare you or anything..."

She trailed off, and they wound up staring at each other in mutual silence, interrupted as a bus creaked to a halt beside Max.

Chloe scowled and stuck her hands in her pockets. "Look—will you just fuckin'—get on the bus already?" She turned and headed back the way she came.

"Chloe!" Max called, making the other girl halt. "Thank you!"

"Whatev." Chloe shrugged and kept walking.

As she got on her bus, Max couldn't help the smile spreading across her face. Her dad was right; Chloe hadn't changed. No matter how bad things got between them, Chloe would never stop looking out for her.

Because of that, I got a chance to fix this. I can make it work.

She'd been right about Chloe. She hoped she was right about Rachel, too.

Evening shadows were gathering around Blackwell when Max got off the bus. The wind was already shifting, carrying the scent of pine trees as it rolled down from the mountains toward the sea. One by one, the lampposts were turning on, inviting little moths to come and dance in their halo. As she crossed the street, she marveled at how much more welcoming it seemed, knowing that Jefferson and Nathan were no longer there.

She had sent Rachel a message that she was on the way but had yet to receive a reply. Was she busy? Shaking her head, Max made her way to the dorms. Maybe she could wait for her at the benches out front.

She hoped she would have better luck with Rachel than with Chloe. She didn't relish the thought of arguing the whole weekend over this, not when they had bigger fish to fry with the Prescotts and Tuhudda's family coming to town. There was no way around it—she had to get through to Rachel somehow.

Max quickly found her on the dorm's stone steps, flanked on either side by students who seemed to be hanging on to her every word. Rachel sat on the top stair, long legs crossed before her and looking breathtaking as ever in her blue plaid shirt and high-heeled leather boots. She smiled and talked animatedly with her group of four, but when she laid eyes on Max, she stopped mid-speech and fairly leaped off the stairs. Max barely had enough time to open her arms before Rachel barreled into her.

"Finally! I missed you!"

Max's cheeks tingled with warmth as she was enfolded in Rachel's toned arms. The blonde was squeezing her so hard it was getting tough to breathe. Still, she couldn't help but return the hug; it felt so good to be held again. "I'm glad I could make it," she said.

It took a long while before Rachel let her go, and even then, she kept one hand on Max's shoulder as if to keep her from getting away. "Jill, Kent, Risa," she said, turning back to the students eyeing them curiously from the steps. "This is Max Caulfield of Seattle, soon to be another proud member of Blackwell Academy. Oh, and she's staying over with us tonight."

Max stopped mid-wave to stare at Rachel. "Um, I am?"

"You are. Don't worry, I already cleared it with the dorm office." Her friends made way as she began steering Max up the stairs into the building.

This is weird, thought Max. "So we're not sleeping at your house?"

"Nope! This is where all the fun's happening tonight, Max. And I'm gonna need your help to make sure it does."

"Okaaaay—what do you mean by 'fun?'"

Again that cheeky grin. "You'll see. First off, let's get you settled." Rachel marched her down the hall and up the stairs to her room.

"You can put your bag down there for now," she said, motioning to the bed. "We'll set you up when we get back."

Back from where? Max was going to ask, but got distracted as she stepped inside Rachel's dorm room for the first time. The place captured Rachel's character even better than her bedroom at the Amber house. A colorful woven carpet claimed half the floor. Yellow curtains and a trio of dreamcatchers adorned her windows. On her study desk, a whiteboard calendar checkered with post-its sat behind piles of photography books. Above her desk hung posters of Twelfth Night and A Streetcar Named Desire. Over at the corner, her double bed sported two enormous pillows and a white comforter that all but invited her to sink into it. A bong peeked out from under the bed; Max parked her bag down beside it to keep it hidden.

She turned to find Rachel leaning over her bedside dressing table. "I've scored half a bottle of margarita from Trevor," the blonde said as she touched up her lip gloss. "We can take some shots later, then after that, you can take some shots of me. Sound like fun?"

"Uh, I think you really shouldn't be drinking in the dorms." Max furtively hunted for any trace of Chloe in the room—a memento, a picture of her and Rachel together, maybe a piece of her clothing. But no such luck. Her stomach sank at the implication.

Rachel rolled her eyes as she slipped a stick of mint gum into her mouth. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. Anyway, we should get going. Don't wanna keep the others waiting."

"Rachel, slow down!" Max said, stepping closer to her. "Before anything, don't you think we should talk about—"

"Oh, we've got plenty of time to talk later, Max!" Laughing, Rachel reached out a hand to capture Max's arm. "Right now, we got lots to do! Brooke needs our help."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Brooke?"

"Yup, it's an emergency. Help now, chat later. C'mon!" Once again, Max found herself swept along by the insistent pressure of Rachel's hand. And again, she couldn't shake how weird this all was, her rushing from one thing to another like they were running out of time.

"Oh, and Max?" As they reached the door, Rachel paused and gently tugged on Max's wrist. "One thing."

"Yeah?"

Rachel pulled the gum from her mouth and dropped it in the nearby trash can. Then she leaned in close, eyes half-lidded, lips parting slightly. "Does my breath smell okay?"

Oh god oh god oh god. Every hair on Max's scalp went rigid at exactly how close Rachel's face was. The scent of peppermint wafted over her nose, mixing pleasantly with the vanilla from Rachel's neck. But what threatened to overload Max's brain was the sight of those lips, pink and soft as orchids. She couldn't pull away if she wanted to; Rachel's fingers held her wrist captive, made her pulse rush under their grip.

"It's-it's-it's good!" Max sputtered, her mouth devoid of moisture.

Rachel pulled back, gazing at her with a barely-there smile. "Really?" she purred. "Guess we're all set then."

Before Max could say any more, Rachel marched them into the hall and over to Room 220, where she knocked rapidly on the door.

"Time to go, Brooke!"

A sullen voice answered from somewhere inside. "I feel stupid."

"It's fine as long as you don't look stupid—which I promise, you don't."

"Easy for you to say, you wear this stuff all the time."

Rachel rolled her eyes at Max. "I did her make-up and built her an ensemble from Juliet and Dana's clothes. Trust me, it works." Facing the door again, she said, "You know what, Max is here. Come on out and let's get her opinion."

After a moment, the door creaked open, and Max found herself gawking. Brooke had done away with her usual drab hoodie and was wearing a wide-necked green top with a single bright red strap over one shoulder. Gone were her leggings and sketchers; she wore a black mini-skirt and open-toed sandals that showed her maroon-painted toenails. Most eye-catching of all, she had her hair down, with a single red-dyed streak arcing over her left eye.

"Wowzer, Brooke," Max said, "you look amazing."

"See? That's what I've been saying." Rachel said with a wink. "And I'm sure Warren will think so too."

Brooke groaned and hid her face in her hands. "This isn't going to work."

"Not with that attitude, it won't." Rachel took Brooke by the arm and began steering her towards the stairs, with Max trailing behind in confusion. "It's not rocket science. All you have to do is look absolutely interested in the movie."

"Movie?" Max said. "What movie? Where are we going?"

Finally, Rachel started to explain. "Warren had an idea for an impromptu showing of an avant-garde horror film he found. He reserved the TV lounge for it and sent out e-vites. Normally I wouldn't go—I tend to laugh during horror flicks—but I thought maybe we could use this as an opportunity to get someone closer to Warren."

"It's never gonna work," Brooke moaned, making a half-hearted attempt to turn around. Rachel quickly steered her back toward the stairs. "This is so obvious. He'll see right through it."

"Will you relax?" Rachel muttered. "Boys aren't complicated. All you need to do is pretend every word he says is the most fascinating thing you've ever heard. He'll be hooked before you know it."

"I don't have to pretend, you know. I researched that movie and it's an absolute banger at horror fests—"

"Great, great, so there's no problem!" And she ushered them down to the ground floor.

Warren was waiting by the doorway to the TV lounge, next to a large curtain blocking the entrance. He perked up as soon as he laid eyes on them approaching. "Oh hey!" he said, "glad you could make it! For a moment there, I thought this wasn't your scene."

"We're always up for a scary movie!" Rachel replied, beaming. "Right, girls?"

"Y-yeah," stammered Brooke.

"Uh, how scary are we talking about?" Max ventured.

"Hiya Max, glad you asked! It's keep-you-up-all-night scary!" His eyes slid over to Brooke. "Wow, um, Brooke, it's...nice to see you all dressed up for this."

Brooke blanched. "You don't think it's weird, do you?" she asked, the words tumbling out of her.

"Weird? No, no! It's just—I don't usually see you like this, I guess? But—you look great! So, uh—" He looked away and rubbed the back of his head. Max caught the tiniest smirk on Rachel's face. "So we should head inside, I guess? Dana and Logan are in there, along with a couple of others. Hayden said he'll be late, which might mean he won't show up—"

Warren pushed the black curtain aside. Inside were five short rows of plastic chairs facing the 50-inch TV, all care of the Prescott Foundation. The lights had been dimmed down, partially hiding the half-a-dozen people seated around the room.

"Oooh, ambiance—I like it!" Rachel remarked as she led them inside. Several heads turned as they entered; Dana's face lit up and she waved her giant bag of Doritos at them while Logan raised his soda can. Juliet grinned and waved her over to sit with her in the third row.

Meanwhile, Warren got up front and began addressing the thin crowd. "Hey everyone, thanks for the interest! Thought I should tell you a bit about the film we're about to see. It's a Japanese horror movie called 'Kairo,' first shown at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival. It was remade as 'Pulse' in America, but—"

"Now's your chance," Rachel hissed at Brooke, giving the small of her back a push. "No one else's sitting up front. Go!" Moving like she was underwater, Brooke dragged herself to the chair beside Warren and plunked down on it.

Satisfied, Rachel steered Max to the edge of the third row, where Juliet sat alone. "Hi, guys!" she said. "Glad you could make it, Max!"

"H-hey Juliet," Max said, settling down beside her.

Rachel asked, "Zach's not coming?"

"Naw, he has football practice or something. Plus, the guy can't read fast enough to keep up with subtitles."

"I hope the movie's not too freaky," Max muttered. "I can't even sit through Jaws."

"Oh, wait!" Rachel snapped her fingers. "We need drinks! Jules, watch Max for me, okay? BRB!" Rachel turned and bounded out of the TV room, just as Warren finished his intro, sat beside Brooke, and hit Play on the remote.

"Hmm," Juliet remarked, "she's pretty energetic for someone who probably didn't sleep a wink last night."

Max's eyes widened. "What?"

"Didn't she tell you? She was at Charles Grody's birthday rager, which literally lasted till dawn. I left at the Cinderella hour, but Rachel crawled back to the dorms around six AM. I mean, I know she parties hard, but wow, she was a total fiend. Say, she's been acting kinda weird lately. She okay?"

Max's nose started to itch. "Uh-huh. Totally. Say, congrats on the article. Rachel told me all about how you got Jefferson kicked out of Blackwell. That was really cool what you did."

"Max," she replied, an intense look in her eyes, "we both know I couldn't have written anything like that without your help with Nunez. I'd tell everyone about it if you'd let me."

"No thanks! I'd rather not be in the spotlight, especially since I'm trying to get into Blackwell. Victoria would put me on her shit list for sure."

"So you know about Victoria too, huh."

Max nodded. "Rachel told me to watch out for her."

"Rachel's right," Juliet muttered. Then she leaned conspiratorially towards Max and whispered, "Oh, since we're back to Rachel..."

Man, I was never this nosey. Max craned her neck, hoping that Rachel would be back so she wouldn't have to endure these questions. But she was nowhere in sight. At the front row, Warren was whispering animatedly to an attentive Brooke, their heads close together. Off to the side, Logan had taken advantage of the dim light and was nuzzling a giggling Dana's neck.

"I've been hearing weird stuff about her and Chloe too," Juliet was saying. "And Chloe hasn't been hanging around like usual."

Max squirmed in her chair as she frowned at the TV screen. The air in the room had turned stifling. Where was Rachel?

"The boys 'round here have been saying Rachel's single now. What do you think, Max?"

"I—I don't—" Max shook her head and, by chance, glanced at the entrance to the lounge. The curtain had been left open, and through the doorway, she saw Rachel, soda cans in hand, talking with a tall, grinning boy with undercut brown hair and wearing a jersey. When he said something, she tossed her hair and gave a coquettish laugh.

Max was barely aware of her jaw falling open. Her eyes felt hot, like she was running a fever, and her stomach had tied itself into a quivering knot. "I don't know anything about that," she muttered to Juliet.

Now the boy was leaning closer to Rachel, one arm against the wall behind her as he whispered something in her ear. Rachel was still laughing like he said the funniest thing in the world. A dull ache spread across Max's lap; she glanced down to see her fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. She averted her gaze to the screen.

"Oh well." Juliet sounded disappointed. "I suppose we're all going to find out sooner or later—oh, hold up." She lifted her buzzing phone and frowned down at it. "Great, he must've forgotten a jock strap or something. Be right back, Max." Answering her phone, Juliet got up and moved to the other end of the room.

Being alone didn't help Max one bit. She kept her eyes glued to the screen, ignoring the full-on make-out session between Dana and Logan in the next row, and what could be happening right now beyond the doorway. And the thought came to her—Rachel touching up her lip gloss, chewing gum—was it all for him?

The knot that was her stomach tightened into a firm ball, and Max wanted nothing more than to head to the girl's room and splash water on her face. But that meant walking past Rachel, and having to see—

"Hi there, Max!"

Jolted, she looked up to see Warren standing next to her. He was holding out a bag of chips to her. "Here you go."

"Oh, um, thanks." Not knowing what else to do, she accepted it, if only to have something to do with her hands than clawing on her lap. That proved to be a mistake. Warren immediately took it as an invitation to sit down next to her.

"How're you liking the movie?" he asked, nudging her with his shoulder. "It's a slow burn at the start, but things start getting real right about now."

"It's...something." Max turned her eyes back to the screen, watching as a Japanese girl and her friends inspected a computer image. She had no idea what had happened in the last ten minutes. However, she did notice Brooke's outline looking back at them, her expression unreadable. Max fervently prayed to be alone again.

"Well," Warren was muttering, "at least you're paying attention. Half the room seems to be doing their own thing, you know?" He leaned in a smidge closer. "Anyway, you following the plot alright? You're a bit far back, so I'm not sure you can read the subtitles very well."

"I think I'm good."

"Okie dokie. Lemme know if you're confused by anything. I know all about—"

"Heeeey, you two! What'd I miss?"

Max jumped again as Rachel appeared, standing beside them, soda cans in hand. She had addressed her question to both of them, but her eyes were solely on Warren.

"Oh, hey Rachel," Warren said, "Don't worry, it's only been a few minutes. Lemme fill you in—"

As Warren prattled on, Max stole a glance at the doorway. The boy was still standing there, looking bewildered and undecided if he should go inside. Meanwhile, Rachel made no move to sit, staring down at Warren as he droned on.

When he finished, Rachel smiled and said, "That's great, Warren. You're so good at explaining stuff." And she kept standing there, gazing at him.

"Oh!" Warren said, catching on. "Is this your seat? Sorry." He moved over to make space for her.

"Thanks!" Rachel said, taking his seat. "Max gets really scared during horror movies so I wanna make sure she's okay. Oh, and this is for Brooke—she asked for Dr. Pepper."

"She did?" he wondered as Rachel handed him a can. "Okay, well, talk to you guys after the movie!" He slipped out of the seat and returned to the front row.

"Whew!" Rachel turned to Max and offered the remaining can. "Drink?" When Max shook her head, Rachel shrugged and popped it open. "So this movie's kinda interesting, yeah? Pretty well shot, but not exactly scary. Oh, and guess who scored invites to Colin Marshal's going-away party later tonight? He's finishing the extended senior program this year, so you probably never met him. He's nice."

Max glanced at the doorway. The boy was gone, thank goodness. It was now or never, before Rachel could kick this can further down the road.

Drawing a breath, Max said, "Rachel, are you avoiding me?"

"What?" Rachel threw her a confused glance. "Max, are you serious? I was with Colin only for a minute—"

"You know what I mean." Turning in her seat, Max faced her fully. "I didn't come here to watch a movie. I don't want to go to a party. I came here to know if you're okay, and to talk about what happened between you and Chloe."

Shrugging, Rachel turned back to the movie as she sipped her drink. "What about it?"

Max goggled at her. "What do you mean, 'what about it?' The two of you didn't talk to me for days! I was worried sick!" When Rachel didn't reply, she continued, "Did you know she got into a fight with Frank?"

After a long pause, Rachel replied, "Yeah."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"It wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind."

"Okay?" When Rachel didn't elaborate, Max pressed on, "What was on your mind? Rachel, what's happening with you? I mean, don't you want to fix this?"

Rachel set the can down on the chair beside her. "What's to fix, Max?" she intoned, eyes still glued to the screen. "It's finished. Chloe's done talking to me, and I'm guessing with you too. So let's figure things out on our own from here on, yeah?"

"Without Chloe? Just like that?"

"Just like that. We've already got Jefferson on the run and Prescott on the ropes. We just have to clean up."

"This isn't what we agreed on! We promised we'd do this together! We need her!"

"Trust me on this, Max—Chloe's perfectly happy to stay out of it. That makes two of us, actually."

"But—"

"Just drop it, Max. We can't all be saints like you." Rachel sighed deeply and pushed her hair back from her eyes. "Let's just get through this movie, okay?"

Something broke inside of Max. Tightening her hands into fists, she bolted up from her chair so fast it fell over. Her bag of chips scattered across the floor.

Startled, Rachel looked up at her. "Max?"

"I'm leaving," Max stated before marching out of the TV lounge.

Max stalked blindly through the dorm halls, somehow making it to the courtyard without bumping into anyone along the way. Part of her simply didn't care if she did. All she wanted was to get out of this place before she broke down.

The stars had come out by the time she stepped outside, and the street lamps lent the campus a familiar warm glow. Max hurried across the dorm grounds with no earthly idea where to go. The only thing on her mind was to put some distance between herself and Blackwell, find a place to sit down, and maybe spend a good half hour feeling sorry for herself.

As she turned the corner and stepped onto the sidewalk, a voice behind her called:

"Max, you can't leave!"

Pounding feet caught up with her. Max didn't even bother to turn around or acknowledge Rachel. When the blonde grabbed her elbow, Max twisted out of her grip and walked on.

"It isn't safe!" Rachel babbled as she kept pace with her. "Jefferson's still out there! Who knows where he could be hiding? And where are you gonna stay?"

Where am I gonna stay? Max wondered. She thought of a motel, but it meant an hour's walk to the outskirts of town, using the last of her allowance, and asking her parents to send money for the ticket home. And if Jefferson indeed was lurking about—she shuddered. But then again, if staying meant having to deal with Rachel's bullshit...

The footsteps behind her stopped. "Max, don't go. Please."

This soft plea, barely above a whimper, was what finally got Max to halt. She'd never heard Rachel sound like that: lost, frightened, filled with tears. Despite herself, she turned around.

Rachel stood several steps away, her flushed face crumpling and her breathing uneven. "I don't have anyone left to turn to. Please, don't leave."

Is this an act? Max wondered as Rachel wiped a tear away with the heel of her hand. She was the best liar Max had ever seen; she couldn't be sure this wasn't another manipulation.

Some people aren't easy, but if you wanted easy...

"You told me before that you trusted me," Max began. "That I was honest, and I'm the only one in town you don't ever want to keep secrets from. Is that still true, Rachel?"

Too emotional to speak, the other girl nodded.

"Then you have to tell me everything," Max went on. "Lying to each other, keeping secrets—that's how we got in this mess in the first place. Can't we just tell each other the truth?"

Max approached her, reaching for her hand. "Please, Rachel. Talk to me."

Shutting her eyes, Rachel released a trembling breath. "I'll try, Max."

They moved to one of the empty benches in front of Blackwell. There, Rachel told her the whole sordid story—about Sera, Damon, her dad, and finally, Chloe's role in it all. As she listened, Max grew more horrified that all this had happened while she was away, living a quiet life in Seattle. Right when Chloe and Rachel could've used another friend.

"The night Chloe and I fought, after I found out what my dad did to my birth mom, I couldn't take it anymore," Rachel went on. "When I got home, I threw his precious Ming Vase out the window and screamed about how I hated him, that I couldn't believe I had lived three years in the home of a murderous liar.

"And you know what he did? Nothing. He sat there with his sad eyes and took it, Max. Like he knew I'd find out eventually. And then he said the shittiest thing. He said, 'I did it to protect what I loved most. I hope the day never comes when you have to do it too, but if it does, you'll understand.'

"Finally, I packed my bags and left. A friend picked me up and drove me to Blackwell. And this is where I'll stay from now on, for as long as I can. And I know—it's pathetic, because my parents pay for my room and board here. But I'll find a way so that I never, ever have to go back to that house. I never want to see him again."

Max thought back to her own dad waiting in Seattle and instantly missed him. "I'm so sorry, Rachel," she said. "If I'd only known how hard it's been for you, I wouldn't have made you talk about it."

"I'm the one who should apologize, Max," Rachel replied. "I've been wanting to see you all week. And when you actually came, I so wanted us to spend time together, but not have to talk about what happened. I thought I could keep you so busy you'd forget everything and just have fun with me. I'm sorry. I've been a complete shit to you."

"You weren't."

"I WAS, Max. I was willing to do anything to hide this fucking story from you. I didn't want you to hear it."

"But why not?" Max asked.

Weeping, Rachel hunched over and clamped her hands around her head. "Because—because I can't believe how stupid I've been! Because my life's turned into a sick fucking joke! I believed every lie I was told—by Jefferson! Frank! My dad! Even by Chloe! And I believed them all because I wanted to believe them! What's the point of having so much power when I'm such a gullible fucking idiot!"

Gently, Max put her hand on Rachel's quivering back. She wanted to say something comforting, but what to say that wouldn't come across as some empty comfort, or a lie?

So instead, she asked, "Is that why you started things up with them? With Frank and Jefferson? Because they lied to you?"

Rachel gave a harsh laugh. "I wish I could say that was it, that I saw what they had to offer and mistook it for happiness. God, I wish. But you wanted the truth, right? Yeah I believed them, but more than that, I believed they'd believe me. I really thought I could make them do what I wanted. I thought I could win."

She looked down at her hands. "What's there to explain? I've been winning so long, I never imagined I could lose. But I did. My family, my home, Chloe—I lost it all."

Max took Rachel's quivering hand in hers, gripped it tight as if to anchor her. "You didn't. Not everything."

Rachel shook her head. "I owe you some honesty, Max. Chloe was right about me—I've turned into my own dad. This is who I am. This is the person you went all the way back in time to save, and I'm so fucking sorry she's such a conniving, selfish bitch—"

"Stop it." Max squeezed her hand. "Don't talk about yourself like that."

"It's the truth."

"It's not." She clasped Rachel's hand in both of hers. "I know you. Yes, you're not perfect, but I've seen you make better choices. I've seen you be kind, be true. So stop trying to get me to hate you—it won't work. I know exactly who you are."

Rachel watched her for a long moment, warm tears rolling down her ashen face. Then a brittle smile crossed her lips.

"Is that what you really think?"

"Yes. You know I'm a terrible liar, right?"

Despite herself, Rachel laughed and wiped at the new tears that flowed down her cheeks. "Thank you, Max, for thinking better of me. And for expecting better. Not many do, you know? They don't see anything more than what I seem, and that's my own fault. But you do know me, don't you. You're a good person, and it means so much that you think I am, too."

Max grinned. "So you believe me?"

Rachel gazed out at the distance. "I dunno if any of it's true, what you said." Then she smiled as she shook the hands holding hers. "But it's absotively, posolutely easier to believe it when you're here with me. Thanks for staying, Max."

Closing her eyes, she leaned over and touched her forehead to Max's. Seized by a tenderness that surprised her, Max moved without thinking. Tugging at Rachel's arm, she pulled the girl into a tight hug. And though Rachel was startled at first, she softened in her embrace.

"Oh," she murmured, "you're just my size."

As they walked side-by-side back to the dorms, Max asked, "So you set up that entire movie thing with Brooke to distract me?"

Rachel sheepishly looked away. "I told you I was pathetic."

"And is it true what Juliet said, that you haven't slept for a whole day?"

"You got me." Her laugh was deep, mirthless, and exhausted. "I was doing whatever I could to stop thinking and feeling. I was running on fumes by morning, but I still couldn't sleep. I was also afraid I'd miss when you arrived."

Max nodded. "So how 'bout we just stay in tonight?"

"Monopolizing my time, Max?" Rachel gave her a flirtatious smile. "My, you're a bold one."

"Only if you promise not to drag me to another movie or some guy's party."

"I promise, no more distractions. And again, thanks for staying with me."

Max gently bumped her shoulder. "Don't mention it." She paused. "Though I did promise Chloe I'd visit tomorrow."

"Oh." Rachel cast her gaze down. "That's only fair, I guess. Is she...how is she doing?"

Max thought back to Chloe's hair, and decided to drop that bomb another day. "She's staying at Pop's garage. She's...not in a good place. But I think I can get her to open up."

"Okay." Rachel sighed. "I'm sorry we put you through this, Max."

"Don't worry about it for now. We can fix this, eventually."

"I honestly don't think she wants to see me again. I'm not sure I want to."

Max paused at the first step of the dormitory and faced her. "Rachel, you told Chloe that you wanted all three of us to leave Arcadia Bay together. Is that true?"

"Yes, it's true, but—"

"Do you still want it to happen?"

Rachel looked away. "I don't see how it can."

"I think we can make it happen." Max reached for her hand, pulling her up the stairs with her. "I think we can do anything if we try.

"I'll go talk to Chloe tomorrow. But right now, I need you to get some rest."

"I don't want to sleep when you're around," Rachel complained as Max led her up the stairs. "We don't have enough time as it is."

But fall asleep she did, eventually, her head nestled against Max's shoulder as they lay in bed, a Richard Avedon photobook on their lap, soft music playing from Rachel's speakers. Max thought about easing her way out of this position, but it was hard to with Rachel's peaceful face so close. And that sweet, shy scent of vanilla.

I don't know if I can fix this mess, Max silently told her, but I think this is how we start. With the truth.

A memory returned to her: two weeks ago at their secluded beach, Chloe and Rachel sitting together on their pirate towel, watching the sun vanish into the sea. They were sharing Rachel's earbuds, both nodding to the beat of her music. They seemed so carefree, so present, that Max stood by their tent, wistfully admiring them.

She looked forward to when they could all sit together again, just like that.

Chloe isn't easy, and neither are you, Rachel. But I'm not going to push either of you away. I'm here for you, and I'll fight for you. Always.