The Denial Game (ML,MATURE) AN [9/11]

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Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Ten:
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“All right, everyone. Ten minutes until the bell. Start cleaning up your labs and turn them in.”

What? No. Wait. How could we only have ten minutes left? I’m not done yet. “No, no, no, no, no.” Stop the centrifuge, drop the test tube in the boiling water, and wait five minutes.

Glance around the room while waiting, and from the looks of it, I’m the only one who is not done with my lab. Or at least, I seem to be the only one who is not done that cares. Snoozers are snoozing. And Michael and Tess are each flipping through their sketchbook and magazine, respectively.

Nope. They don’t care about this stuff. Of course they don’t. Why would they? Science bores everyone. Everyone but nerdy dorky people like me. And maybe Max. But Max isn’t here, is he? No, he never came to class. And no one else noticed but me, who has been staring at the door all period, waiting for him to come while the seconds seem to just tick slowly by. Damn it, maybe that’s why I haven’t finished my lab yet.

All right. It’s close enough to five minutes. Check the test tube, and it’s clear. It’s clear. The test tube is clear. It’s this just so fucking hilarious? The freaking test tube is clear. It’s not supposed to be clear. “God fucking damn it!”

“Liz, did you say something?” Tess’s blonde curls pop up from out of nowhere to right next to me.

“Oh, Tess. I didn’t see you there. No, no. I didn’t say anything.” Nope. Not little ole me. I would never utter such profane words.

“You know we only have like two minutes until the bell, right?” She’s looking at all of my supplies, still out on the table, test tube still in hand.

I put the clear test tube down and check my watch. “I know. I know.” Maybe I forgot a step. I should go back and look through again.

She picks up the clear test tube and sniffs it. And my mind is just thinking, ‘that’s a bad safety procedure.’ But hey, I’ve got a double major grade assignment to think about. No time for anything else. “Didn’t you finish this experiment yesterday?”

“Yes. And yesterday I also found lead in the solution. Today, I redid the experiment, and there’s no lead.” Because the freaking test tube is clear. Isn’t that just wonderful?

“Are you sure?” I glance up at her and she’s still sniffing the test tube before she plops it back into the boiling water.

And I sigh. “Clear test tube. No precipitate. No lead.”

“Let me see.” She grabs at the large test tube holding the unknown solution, pulls off the stopper and sniffs it. What is it with her and sniffing these things? “It’s sodium and bismuth.”

Wait … “What?”

Tess kind of shrugs and hands the test tube back to me. “The solution has sodium and bismuth in it.”

“How do you know?” I try sniffing it. And it just smells chemically to me. There’s no way you can dissociate these smells when they’re mixed together like this. And she smells sodium and bismuth in this? Well, sorry Tess, but you’re wrong. “I already tested for bismuth. No color change. Thus, no bismuth.”

“It’s bismuth, all right.” She takes the test tube from me and plugs the stopper back in before putting it back down on the table. And apparently she sees the disbelief in my eyes because she lets out this frustrated sigh. “Just trust me on this. It’s sodium and bismuth.”

She even goes as far as to write the two chemicals down on my paper and hands it to me before walking away. And I stare at the paper, thinking about it. Double major grade. Could I risk it? I mean, it’s two major grades. This is the difference between an A in the class and a lower grade. But then again, Tess was pretty sure of herself …

Oh, what the hell. The bell rings and I grab my paper and stuff it in the tray. “Mr. Singer, can you tell me if I had the chemicals right?”

He looks at me from behind his computer. “Sure, Liz,” he says it in the drawn out, elongated enunciation, as though we had all the time in the world. Forget that the bell has already rung and that I might be late for my next class. “What solution number did you have?”

He pulls out his paper and I’m taking a deep breath. “Number four.”

“Sodium and …” could he take any longer to read one word? “… bismuth.”

Wow. “Well … what do you know?” Tess was right. And I’m smiling. Because Tess was right. That means that I was right. Which also means that I got a hundred for, not one, but two major test grades. Ain’t life grand?

“Is that what you guessed?”

“Yes, it is.” As if my smile didn’t give it away already.

“Congratulations.” He kind of pats me on the head. And normally, I’d mind. And I’d be bitching for being treated like a little dog of some sort. But today, I don’t mind. Nope. Today, I overlook it. Today, I’m happy.

“Thank you.”

Health wasn’t even all that bad of a class either. I sat down in class, did the work in ten minutes and then got a pass to go to the library.

But did I go to the library? Sure, for about two minutes. Then I got bored and went home. That’s right. Truancy. That’s the name of the game. And if anyone asks, I’ll just say it’s my free period. But then again, this town is kind of small. Enough to where all the administrators could probably have everyone’s schedules programmed into their heads.

Hmm … a robot faculty. That’s an interesting notion. However, this town already has aliens. And isn’t there some kind of law or something … one conspiracy per town? Well, there should be.

I head out of the parking lot and down the street at a leisurely pace. I’m in no hurry. Besides, at the speed I’m going, I figure I’ll make it to the Crashdown in about half an hour, long before the after school rush, and just in time for some afternoon cartoons. See? I’ve got it all planned out.

“Hey, Liz. Wait up.”

I stop and turn around and see a guy running up to me. Brown hair, nice muscles, and dimples in his cheeks. I turn back around and keep walking.

“Liz, wait.”

That’s the thing about being short. You’re legs don’t cover that much distance when you walk. Two of his steps equal like three of mine. And why does this guy look kind of familiar? But not really. Maybe it’s the letter jacket …

“Hey.” His voice is kind of deep, kind of light, and it comes out sweetly. I bet he’s a smooth talker.

“Um … hi.”

“So, where you heading to?” He smiles and I can see the dimples in his cheeks. Hmmm … does Max have dimples? Why haven’t I ever taken notice?

“I’m walking home … the Crashdown,” point down the street in the general vicinity of where I’m heading.

“You’re walking?” He puts his hands in his pocket and kind of gives me this smile. Hmm …

“Yeah. I’m just gonna … go.” I offer him a smile back. The guy seems nice enough.

“Well, um … my car is right over there,” he points off to the parking lot. “I could give you a ride if you want.”

Oh, yes. Let’s go hop in the car of every cute unfamiliar guy we see. That’s how dead bodies of girls end up in ditches and creeks. “Well, actually, I’m not supposed to get rides from strangers.” Just slowly inch away.

“But, I’m not a stranger though, am I?” He smiles. And his smiles have dimples.

And see? I knew he looked familiar. “You’re not?”

“No. I’m Doug. We have English together. Third period. I sit at the table behind you, two seats over.” Whoa … he has English with me? Who is all in my English class? Me, Max, and the bimbo brigade. I don’t recall a Doug.

“Oh, yeah. English class …” It’s not like I was going to tell him that I didn’t remember him. That’s mean. And I don’t want to be mean.

“Yeah.” He’s suddenly very enthusiastic. “I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“Well, who wouldn’t notice someone like you?” I punch him playfully on the arm. That’s what people do, right? Letter jacket people? They play around and punch each other. Right?

And the Doug guy blushes. It’s cute. “So … um … can I give you that ride?”

“Actually,” and I can already see his face fall, “I was kind of looking forward to a walk.”

“Oh … can I walk you then?” Should I have him walk me? I mean … I hardly know him. But then again, it’s not safe for a little girl to be walking around by herself, even in a small town like this one. And I mean, it’s not like I’m betraying anyone by having Doug walk me home. And there’s also a somewhat pleading look in his eyes. You know m, I‘ve always been a sucker for puppy dog looks … sigh …

“Sure.”



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“You’re kidding me.” He’s kidding me. He has to be kidding me.

“Nope. Scout’s honor.” He holds his hand up in that salute thing that they do. And I still don’t believe him.

“No. You’re lying. Things like that just don’t happen to guys like you. I mean, you’re Doug Shellow, the all American guy, captain of the football team.” It’s just not possible. The pretty people just don’t get humiliated like that.

“What? It’s true. I had to shave my head and wear a hat for two months until my hair grew back.” His face is all serious and he kind of grimaces at the memory.

And I still don’t believe him. “I still don’t believe you.”

He just smiles. “Why don’t you believe me? Come on, I’m a good guy. Completely innocent and honest.”

Innocent and honest? That’s exactly what I am. Hell, if he’s going to start talking about innocent and honest. “So am I. But if I sat here and told you that I’m Liz Parker, waitress by day and Bunny Neptune, prostitute and porn star by night, would you believe me?” And it just came out of my mouth on its own accord. This is what happens when you speak before you think.

Doug kind of ducks his head and looks somewhat uncomfortable. It’s awkward now. How is it that I always seem to make every situation awkward? I really shouldn’t have said that. Doug really is pure and innocent. I’m surprised high school hasn’t corrupted him yet.

I told you that I liked silence, right? Well this isn’t silence. This is awkward silence. And awkward silence is nerve wrecking. Awkward silence is the kind that you go crazy in. Must stop silence. “So … um … is there anything else I can get you? Alien Blast? Men In Blackberry pie?”

“No. I’m fine.” He’s trying to settle back down but I can tell he’s still a little uncomfortable. I don’t blame him. No one really expected that to come out of my mouth.

Glance around the diner and the creepy guy’s still staring at me. Did I mention the creepy guy yet? He’s been sitting in a booth by himself for over twenty minutes now and still hasn’t ordered yet. All he does is just sit there and stare.

Look at Doug and it’s still somewhat awkward. “Okay, um … I should go take some orders now. I’ll be right back.”

Walk over to the creepy man and for the fourth time ask him, “Sir, are you ready to order?”

“Is anything on this menu … edible?” He has this all high and mighty look on his face as he looks at the menu in disgust.

And I really don’t feel like dealing with him right now. “I’ll give you more time to look it over.” And quickly walk away.

Back to Doug. Slipping back into the booth across from him, “So, what else do you want to talk about?”

He has this smile on his face. I guess we’re over the awkwardness now. “Tell me the truth.”

You want the truth? You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth. Sigh … I know, I’m a dork. “The truth about what?”

He still has a smile on his face. “You really didn’t know who I was, huh?”

“Of course I do. You’re Doug. You sit on the table behind mine in English, two seats over.” Is this where he tells me that he really isn’t Doug Shellow, but he’s been playing me all this time. And that he’s actually my long lost twin brother that I never knew about. Luke … I am your father.

“Yeah. But I told you all of that.” Huh? What? I really need to stop living in my head so much.

All right. I might as well be honest with him. “Okay. I’m sorry, but I … nope, I don’t remember.”

His lip kind of pouts and he gets this look on his face. “But … I’ve talked to you lots of times.”

Whoa … wait … “When?”

And he gives me this ‘come on, I can’t believe you don’t remember’ kind of look. “I say ‘hi’ to you in the hallway everyday. Between first and second? I even offered to carry your books the other day.”

Ugh … that’s why he looked so familiar. It’s the letter jacket. “I’m sorry, but I just have a really bad memory. I didn’t even remember seeing you in class.” I really don’t. I don’t remember there being anyone else in class, other than Max. Oh, yea, and the blonde bimbos, as well.

Doug just shrugs. “It figures. You were too busy staring at Evans in class to notice me.”

Me? Staring? At Max? Yeah, right! “I don’t stare.”

“Fine. You gawk at him. Ogle, gaze, take your pick. I mean, it’s nothing. It’s not like you’re the only one. God, every girl in the school only has eyes for Evans.” He kind of slouches in his seat and pouts. There’s some obvious jealousy going on there.

And I try to cheer him up. “I’m sure you have your own following of gawkers as well.”

“Nope.” He sulks some more. “They’re all too busy following Max around.” And he huffs, like a little boy, angry that he doesn’t get his way.

And I find myself wanting to make him smile again. “Come on, you’re captain of the football team. Isn’t there some unwritten law that all cheerleaders have to throw themselves at your feet?”

“Nope.” He throws his hands up. “Every girl wants to get with Max.”

“I, for one, would rather eat worms before I fell at the feet of Maxwell Evans,” a voice comes walking up to us.

“It’s such a relief to hear that. Thank you, Maria.” He gives her a smile and I can see his dimples again.

“You’re welcome. It’s great feeling special.” Maria smiles a cheesy smile and then turns to me, handing me menus. “Liz. You’ve got customers.”

“But I’m on my break, Maria.”

She smiles at me, sympathetically. “I know. But they refuse to let me take their order. They specifically asked for you. Which, I’m really grateful for. Believe me.”

I look around the diner, which is empty, except for three booths. “Other than that weird man over there, they’re not even in my section.”

And Maria just shrugs. “They asked for you, Liz.”

Maybe I should be ruder. That way, they don’t ask for me. And maybe even prefer to not have me. Sigh. If only. “All right. Which of the two booths?”

She smiles at me. “Both of them.”

“Both?”

She shrugs. “Hey. You’re popular.”

Sigh. “Fine. If you’ll excuse me, Doug.” Smile warmly at him.

“Don’t worry, Liz. I’ll keep Dougie-boy company.” Maria slides in the booth as I exit.

Break out the freaking order pad. Hello Mr. I’ve-Got-A-Staring-Problem. “Are you ready to order yet, sir?”

He’s staring at my nametag. Or, at least, I’m hoping that he’s staring at my nametag. “What kind of name is that? Liz.” He makes a face. “It’s so … common.”

Common? Excuse me. What right does he have to call me common? “Liz, it’s short for Elizabeth.”

The bastard psycho person is smiling now. “Ah … Elizabeth. Now that is a suitable name.”

Well, I’m glad you approve. Plaster on the cheesy smile. “Thank you, sir. Are you ready to order?”

He looks back over the menu in disgust. “Ugh … is there anything that isn’t swimming in a pool of grease.”

No, sir. There isn’t. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to look over the menu.” And walk quickly away. And up to the next booth.

“Welcome to the Crashdown Café. I’m Liz and I’ll be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?” And my hands are already scribbling down his order on the order pad, before he even answers me.

It’s not like it’s a big deal. He always orders the same thing. “The usual.”

See? I was right. “Is that all, Max?”

“Sit down, Liz,” he points to the empty seat across from him.

And I smile. I knew he was going to say that. “Can’t, Max. Working.” I point to the other booth of people who have yet to be served.

He kind of whines and pouts, as though I’m being unfair or something. “You sat with Shallow.”

I roll my eyes. “Shellow. And that was during my break.” Do I detect a hint of jealousy from him? No. It couldn’t be.

“So join me.” He, again, points to the empty seat across from him.

It’s easy for us to do this. How we got this way, I’m not quite sure. But it’s easy for him to pretend to flirt with me and it’s easy for me to banter back, because he knows that I know that it’s just a game. And he knows that I know that pretty boys and plain girls just don’t add up.

And here we are. With me smiling sweetly at him. “Go to hell, Max.”

His smirks make their comeback. “Only if you go with me, Liz.”

Sigh. Something tells me that I’d agree to go anywhere with him. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “I’ll be back with your drink.”

Saunter away and pin Max’s order up on the little spinny thingy at the Cook’s window for Alex to cook up before heading behind the counter and getting Max’s cherry coke. Walking back over to him.

“Here you go.” Put the drink down on the table and give him a big smile. He better tip me good, especially since this isn’t even my section.

“Thanks, Liz.” He takes the drink and starts sipping it. And I start to turn away, but I hear Maria bursting into a fit of laughter. And I glance over at Doug, whose sitting there a bit uncomfortable-like with Maria acting like a hyena, and it reminds me of something.

“Hey, Max?”

“Yeah?” He looks up at me with a smile. And guess what, Max has dimples too.

It makes me smile. And it makes what I’m about to say next, even sweeter. “What if I told you that waitressing was only my day job, and at night, I’m Bunny Neptune, prostitute and porn star extraordinaire.”

And Max is unfazed. He just raises his eyebrows a bit. “How much do you charge and what corner can I find you at?”

And I smile again. Because I expected Max to say something smart-alecky like that. At least, to me he would, because we’ve got this comfortable understanding going on. And that thought somehow makes me smile even more. I’m special. “Thanks, Max.”

I walk away and head towards the next booth. But someone’s hand on my arm stops me. “Hey … um … Liz.”

I smile, because he’s just so sweet, you can’t help but smile at him. “Yes, Doug?”

“It’s getting kind of late. I really should head on home.” He points to his watch. And I’m actually surprised that he stuck around this long. He really is just such a great guy. “Um … can I call you?”

It’s at the tip of my tongue to say, ‘sure, and we can have hot phone sex all night long.’ But I don’t. I stop at, “Sure.” After all, that’s not something you’d say to Doug. Not sweet and innocent little Doug, no. That’s something you’d say to Max. Because I think that Max gets that I’m weird now. Like how I know that he’s weird. Layered-up, weird.

Doug gives me a peck on the cheek and then heads out the door. And I sigh as I watch him leave. He’s sweet. And now, I must go face the creepy guy. Sigh again before I head over, taking out my order pad. “Sir, are you ready to order?”

“The resemblance is so uncanny.” He kind of mutters to himself, and yet to me, at the same time.

And I’m wondering what in hell he is talking about now. “Excuse me?”

“But there’s something different,” he’s still muttering to himself and to me.

Something different? What is he talking about? Something that resembles, but is different? What is he talking about? “Sir, what are you talking about?”

He lets out a deep breath and shakes his head, like he’s disappointed at whatever it is he’s talking about. “The eyes. It’s the eyes.”

And frankly, I’m tired of this. “Sir-”

“They’re his eyes, aren’t they?” What? His eyes? Whose eyes? Max’s eyes? Could be, since they are one of Max’s best features. Them, and his beautiful perfection. But then this guy wouldn’t notice that. Of course not, Liz. I highly doubt that he is checking Max out. But then again, he could be.

I need to clear my head. “Sir, are you ready to order?”

But I don’t think he hears me. Because he’s still shaking his head and he still looks disappointed at something. What was it? Eyes. “It’s such a pity. Such a waste of perfection.”

All right. This guy is off in his own little world. “Umm … I’m going to give you a few more minutes.” And quickly walk away to the last booth of people.

And again, I rush out my introduction in one hurried breath. “Welcome to the Crashdown Café. I’m Liz and I’ll be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?”

“Elizabeth Parker.” Groan. I don’t want to have to deal with this here too. Don’t I get enough of this in school?

“Pamela Troy.” You’d think I’d just be polite. You’d think I would be sweet little Lizzie. but something in seeing her face just rings warning bells. Something in her voice just makes the anger and annoyance fume from me. And I hold none of it back. It’s a slow night. I can play it out.

You ever notice that it’s always only Pam talking. And the other two lap dogs just sit there and glare. Did they appoint her their spokesperson, or did her big mouth and slutty reputation automatically get her the position? “Well, I’ll have to say, at first, I thought you were just a bitch. But it turns out you’re a bitchy witch.”

Bitchy witch? A bitchy witch? Oh my God. “Wow. That actually rhymed. I guess they don’t call you pom-pom Pam for nothing, huh?”

She chooses to ignore my comment. “I don’t know what the hell you did to him, but stay away from Max. He’s mine.” She’s giving me this icy glare.

But I just smile sweetly at her. Simply because it is annoying the hell out of her. “Is he now?”

“Yes. He is,” she says through gritted teeth. And you can tell she’s trying to sound menacing. But I laugh, because she’s got something stuck between her teeth. And it’s funny. I think Isabel sees it too, because she’s snickering softly, until Pam glares at her.

But, back to the topic at hand, Max. “And what exactly makes him yours, Pam?”

She turns back to me with another glare. And she smirks. “He just is. Everyone knows it. It’s destiny.”

That is her lame justification? “I’m sorry, Pam. But I must have missed the ‘Property of Pam Troy’ tattoo on his chest.” And I throw in another sweet smile, just to piss her off some more.

But Pam keeps going, rolling her eyes at me. “I’m the only girl who has ever gotten anywhere with him.”

Gotten anywhere? What the hell is that? “Meaning?”

“We’ve made …” She pauses for a second before she smirks and holds her head up high, “we’ve gotten to first base.”

And I scoff at her. “I highly doubt forcing your tongue down his throat counts as first base, Pam.” Another sweet smile. And I think that they’re really getting to her.

“I wouldn’t talk, Parker.” Ooo … she’s calling me by my last name. I must be in trouble now. “It’s more than you’ll ever get.”

Is that a challenge? I think it’s a challenge. “Oh really?”

A ding is heard from the cook’s window, meaning that Alex is done with the food. So I grab the plate and head over to Max’s booth, determined. Why am I letting Pam get to me like this? Where did all this confidence come from? I’m still not sure. But I guess maybe a perfect score for a double major grade in your favorite subject might make anyone feel invincible. Place the food down in front of him and slide into the booth.

He looks over at me, somewhat apathetically. “Joining me now?”

“Yes.” And I smile, and glance over at Pam, making sure she’s watching. “Max?”

“Hmm?” He looks at me and I signal with my finger for him to lean in closer. “What is it, Liz?” He sounds concerned. “Did someone do something to you?”

And I smile. The fact that he’s worried and that he’s so willing to jump at the chance of being my knight in shining armor makes what I’m about to do, oh so much sweeter.

Stare him straight in the eyes and clear my throat. “Kiss me.”

He looks unfazed. But he blinks. “What?”

And I just … “You did it before and it didn’t mean anything to you. Why can’t you just do it again?” Just so I can save face. Not because I enjoyed it the first time.

But he knows what I’m doing. Because I can see the glint in his eyes. “You’re trying to get back at Pam, huh?”

“Come on, Max.” Don’t embarrass me.

“No.” My face falls. Until he says, “I won’t kiss you. I’ll let you kiss me.”

Deep breath and lean forward. Pushing my lips against his, feeling the softness and the warmth, and trying my best to still my heart and make it look like this isn’t the first time I’ve done this.

And the funny thing is, it doesn’t faze him. Funny, or heartbreaking. I haven’t decided yet. I can feel one hand on my waist and the other in my hair. I pull back. I mean, I’m satisfied that Pam’s gotten enough. And I don’t want to risk being caught by Mr. or Mrs. Whitman, or anyone else who might walk in. And most importantly, I don’t want to lose myself altogether in the sheer moment and the ethereal essence and desirous being that is Maxwell Evans. If I didn’t stop myself, I’d probably end up giving myself to him right then and there. And that wouldn’t be good. No sir. Because then innocent little Lizzie wouldn’t be so innocent anymore, would she?

Pretty boy. Plain girl. Sigh.

I slip out of the booth and breathe a little. “Enjoy your food.”

Pam and her cronies huff before getting up from their booth and storming out of the diner. And I smile triumphantly.

Two booths down, and one to go. And I’m feeling suddenly very confident. Bring on Mr. Creepy. “Sir, are you ready to order now?”

But I don’t think he’s listening to me. “Those damn eyes. It’s such a pity.” He’s still in his own little world of eyes again.

“Alright, you know what-” And I’m actually about to just kick this guy out. Because there was nothing in the job description that says that I have to deal with loony and cracked-up people.

But he interrupts me with the shaking of his head and his frowns of disappointment again. “Perfection. It was in your blood.”

“In my blood?” Wait. He was talking about me? Wait. I’m the eyes? He was checking me out, not Max? Ugh …

And the man sighs, heavily and overdramatically. “Blood is blood, I suppose. We’ll just have to make do. You can be fixed.”

Blood? Eyes? Fixed? What does he mean, fixed? What exactly is this guy talking about? “Sir, I seriously-”

But he stands up, brushing me aside. “I should be going. Don’t reduce yourself to …” He looks me up and down, and I withhold the urge to slap him, “… servitude. Hold your head high, Elizabeth. You’re better than everyone else. You’re a Harding. For heaven’s sake, act like one.”



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 3:05 am, edited 5 times in total.
User avatar
Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Eleven:
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Guess what I did Saturday. Sleep. Work. Sleep. Guess what I did Sunday. Sleep. Work. Sleep. And more sleep. So come Monday morning, I was quite tired. Sure, I had plenty of sleep, but all the energy just wasn’t showing. It’s like my body was storing it up, preparing myself for some thing or some things. That’s how I knew that today was going to be one hell of a long day.

So the first thing I did when I got to school was go straight to the water fountain. My throat was kind of dry trying to think of all of the possible things that could happen today. Pam Troy’s hair could have mysteriously fallen out this weekend. All of the teachers could have gone on strike. That creepy guy from last week could show up again. Hell, the government could even announce to the world that there really was a crash in ’47, bringing in a massive wave of tourists, which in turn could leave me to work more hours and get less sleep. Anything could happen, but, nonetheless, my throat was still parched and what better way to quench my thirst than good ole H2O.

“Um … Liz?”

My hand kind of stops midway from turning the nozzle and I look up, turning my head to the voice.

“Hello, Liz. I … um … I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”

And I just stand there, dumbfounded and gawking. But then again, you’d be gawking too because there stands Sean. Or at least, I think it is Sean, since the person standing beside me looks more like his evil twin of some sort. Or rather, good twin, in this case. This must be some kind of twilight-y zone.

No more baggy jeans, t-shirt, tennis shoes, evil smirks, messy hair, yucky Sean. What was standing beside me was a kaki pant, tucked in nice, button collar shirt, groomed hair, loafers, 10-hour-‘Leave It To Beaver’-marathon Sean. It was like, some kind of strange conspiracy, spooky ‘Disturbing Behavior’ kind of thing. Creepy.

“Liz?” He’s grinning uncomfortably. Not smirking, grinning.

“Um … hi, Sean. It has been a while, hasn’t it?” And my voice pretty much gives away my uncomfortable-ness.

“I will get to the point, Liz. I just really want to apologize for the way I mistreated you before, gawking at you. You are not a piece of meat or a toy for my amusement. The way I acted around you was simply uncalled for and I assure you that it will never happen again. Please accept my apology, Liz. If there’s any way I can make it up to you, just let me know.” And he grins again.

I stand there, dumbfounded, yet again. This is probably some kind of weird joke. The school camera media technology people are probably going to pop up any second now. You know, the candid camera thing.

“Liz?” He’s looking at me strangely now, still grinning uncomfortably.

“Um … I … um …” clear my throat, “I-I need a drink.” Turn towards the water fountain and turn the little nozzle, causing water to spew forth, and I, in turn, solve the problem of my parched throat before turning back to Sean. And I find him with his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut, and he’s … cowering? “Sean?” He doesn’t hear me so I kind of poke him.

And he jumps, startled, and then drops to his knees. “I-I’m sorry, Liz. I’m sorry. I’m so so so so so sorry. Please, please forgive me?”

And me, I stand there awkwardly, with everyone in the hall staring at us. “Of course, Sean.” And I walk away. All that just happened there was just too weird for me. But the thing is, my energy gage was still almost full, meaning there was still a lot more to come. Something bigger than Sean begging me for forgiveness on his hands and knees.

Dude, and can you believe that it’s only the beginning of the day? I walk into first period and sit down next to Maria was a sigh before I turn to her. “You won’t believe what just hap-”

She interrupts me. “My mom wanted me to tell you that she wanted to meet with you today. So I guess we’ll just postpone our trip to the mall an hour or so.” She turns back to her things.

Wait … when did we decide that we were going to the mall? “We’re going to the mall?”

“Yeah.” She looks at me like I’m crazy and nods her head. “Right after you have a little meeting with my mom.”

“Am I invited?” Alex asks as he sits down in front of Maria and I.

“Nope. Sorry, Alex.” Maria shakes her head.

And Alex is pouting. Why can’t Alex go?

“I’m sorry, Alex.” Maria reaches out and pats his hand. “But Liz and I planned this to be a girls thing.” I, personally, don’t remember doing any planning, whatsoever.

Alex jerks his hand away and huffs. “Maria, you’re being sexist.”

“Yes,” Maria nods her head, “I am.”

“Fine,” Alex leans back in his chair and pouts again. “I didn’t want to go anyway.”

“Besides, Alex,” Maria continues, “you’re pretty much Liz’s step-in-brother. There’s a rule that you can’t be present when Liz is around, scoping out guys.”

He leans forward in his seat. “What guys? Liz, I thought we agreed. No guys.”

Yeah, I pretty much tune them out after that. There’s only so much of their bickering and bantering that you can take before you go nuts. And it seems as though I have a whole mall expedition with Maria later on today to prepare myself for.

Maybe that was it, the big energy sucker for my day. But I have a feeling that it isn’t. There is something else, something bigger. Or maybe I am just crazy. Apparently so, because come lunchtime, everyone was talking about my craziness, my peculiar-ness, and particularly, my engagement to Sean.

“Are you sure?”

In the same loud whisper from before, spoke the girl who is all for high school conformity, next to my locker.

“Positive. I heard her myself. Sean was down on his knee and Liz said, and I quote, ‘Of course, Sean.’”

“Wow. I can’t believe they’re getting married.”

“What?!” There’s a loud clang, and it’s me, slamming my locker door as I walk up to the two girls who were both most likely the product of MTV, drilling senseless thoughts into their heads as they willingly oblige to it’s every whim.

“Liz … I didn’t know you were there.” It’s funny that she knows my name, especially since I don’t know hers. And she’s fidgeting. I think I’m making her nervous.

“I’m engaged to Sean?” Cross my arms over my chest and stare at the two girls as they fidget some more.

“Well, um … that’s what I heard from everyone else,” the second girl says.

“I thought you said you heard me yourself?” And I raise my eyebrows at her, for an added affect, increasing their fidgeting.

“Well … um … not … I-um …”

I just walk away from them and out into the quad, carrying my nifty little water bottle with me, plopping down at my spot. I turn to Maria, with her cheese puffs, and she looks at me.

“I heard.” She smiles a sympathetic smile at me and scoots over next to me, leans my head on her shoulder and strokes my hair. “Tell me all about it.”

I glance at Michael. He’s just sitting there, sketchbook in hand. Apparently, he’s not interested.

And I sigh. She’s making me uncomfortable with the touching and all. But, frankly, at this moment, I don’t care. “Sean apologized to me this morning. He dropped down on his knees, asking for forgiveness. But everyone else thought he was proposing to me. And now, the school thinks I’m engaged to Sean.”

“So I heard.” She continues to stroke my hair.

“Why did this happen to me?” Am I whining? Yes, I’m whining.

“And you don’t like the attention, do you?” She asks me in that calming, grandma kind of tone.

I shake my head and pout. “No.”

“All right, then. Don’t worry, Liz. I’ll fix everything.” I lift my head from her shoulder, giving her a questioning glance as she scoots away from me, and closer to the hippie-haired boy.

“Hey, Michael,” she yells this out really loudly. I watch him lift his head up in time to see Maria pin his shoulders back to the tree before she glues her mouth to his. And I stare on, like everyone else in the quad, with my mouth open. What the freaking heck is she doing? She finally pulls away and Michael has the same expression on his face as I do, while Maria is smiling smugly. And people are staring at us.

“That was phase one.” And she stands up and walks away.

And I look at Michael, who is trying to recompose himself, picking up his sketchbook again. “Apparently, unlike you, she likes the attention.”

And we both stare after her, wondering what she’s going to do next. My eyes follow her as she walks towards the center of the quad, stopping at the ‘tree of knowledge’ and staring down at Max and the bimbo brigade.

And I have to hand it to Maria. Michael and I don’t even have to lean forward to hear her. She says it loud enough for the entire quad to hear her. “You,” she points her finger at Max, “are one arrogant, self-centered bastard.”

And if that didn’t do it enough, she turns to Pam and the Pam-ettes. “And you. I feel embarrassed, ashamed, and disgraced to have ever been one of you, you stuck-up, slutty, incompetent dimwits.” And then she walks back towards us, sitting down, and going back to her cheese puffs.

Michael goes back to his sketchpad and I pick back up my nifty little water bottle and take a sip, before I recap it and put it back down. I look over at Michael. He puts his sketchpad down and we both stare at Maria. She looks up, a slow smile creeping up on her face. “That felt good.”

And I just shake my head, smiling. This day has been one hell of a day so far, but something tells me that it wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot …



--------------



Aside from Maria’s stunt, or shall I say stunts, the rest of the school day was starting to seem very uneventful. In chemistry, we had yet another lab to do. Today we get to make aspirin, acetylsalicylic acid. Yay! Can you feel my excitement? I’m excited.

I gather my things and head to Max’s lab table. Does he mind? Nope. He’s even got the space cleared for me, waiting and ready. And as I set my things up, it seems kind of … comforting, me and Max, Max and me, working together like this.

“So … Sean, huh?” he asks, breaking the silence, but he isn’t looking at me. Nope. He’s staring at and setting up the Bunsen burner, checking the gas, tubing and all.

And I smile. “Yeah. We’re getting married. Jealous?”

“Profoundly.” He repeatedly works the striker until the gas catches it, lighting the fire ablaze, unruly and erratic, until he adjusts it, calming and fixing it.

And that’s the end of our conversation. We didn’t say any more after that. We simply worked on our lab. Sure, I want to ask him what he thought of Maria’s little stunt, what he was doing sitting with Pam Troy and her dronies, whether or not we will be sharing any more kisses, and whether he would elaborate on that ‘profoundly’, but I don’t. I wouldn’t want to interrupt the comforting silence of the situation, or at least, that’s my excuse. I’m not a coward. I’m not.

And all that time that I spent staring at the bright blue flame and talking to myself, the bell had rung, and everyone was already filing out of the classroom, leaving me rushing to put up all of my lab equipment and rushing out the door.

And while I’m rushing through the hallway, I notice one thing, everyone is staring at me, still. Well, you’d think what Maria did was enough to get the school uninterested in me. But no. Small towns and their nosy inhabitants.

“Nice fashion trend,” someone shoulders me. I turn back and see Pam and her two sheep walking away laughing. But I choose to ignore them. I’m not going to lower myself to their level. I’m going to keep walking, straight to class, like I always do.

And I manage to make it into the door just before the bell rings, not that Coach Thompson would have cared, after all, it was just a lame health class. But, as I walk in, everyone continues to turn and stare at me. And I just sit down. I don’t care anymore. If they don’t have anything better to do than look, let them look.

The freshman sitting in front of me turns in her chair and glances back at me quickly and then turns back around, as if I didn’t notice. But, again, I choose to ignore it. By tomorrow, everything will go back to normal. The girl turns her head back and takes a short glance at me again. And I am going to ignore it. Today is just a test on my nerves. That’s all. God is seeing how much I can take before I explode. And the girl turns in her seat again.

“What?” My voice comes out agitated and annoyed. And I think I’m making her fidget … I’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“It’s just … um … is that … are those your glasses?” She points to the top of my head and I freeze. This can’t be happening. Slowly reach up to the top of my head and pull them off, the yucky brown, large, bug-eyed looking safety goggles I had on during chemistry. And apparently the ones that I forgot to take off, as well. Groan.

And I stand up, head lowered, and walk to the front of the classroom. “Coach Thompson?”

“Yeah?” He looks up from his attendance card.

“Can I go return these to my chemistry class? I forgot to give them back.” I finally look up at him and he’s looking at me strangely.

“When did you have chemistry?” He hands the attendance card to one of the students to put outside the door.

I seem to have gone back to talking softly and ducking my head again. “Last period.”

He kind of raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you give them back then?”

And I sigh. “I forgot to take them off.”

And he looks at me, unbelievingly. “How can you forget that you have safety goggles on?”

And I sigh again. “They were on top of my head.” I point to the top of my head for emphasis.

“You mean to tell me that you wore those out in the hallway?” He’s trying to suppress a smile, but I see his lips curving at my misfortune.

Sigh and nod my head. “Yes.”

And he chuckles at me. I don’t blame him. If I hadn’t been staring at Ma- the blue flame the whole time in class, I would have remembered to take the goggles off.

And once his laughter dies, he finally answers me. “Yeah, go ahead. The class is going to the auditorium though. So meet us in there.”

I nod my head and go to gather my things to go back to the chemistry room.

“Auditorium?” the perky voice of one of the wannabe teenyboppers in the room speaks up. “What are we doing there?”

“We’ve got a speaker from the ‘The Right Choices’ program to come talk to you today,” I hear Coach Thompson explain before I exit the room and walk back to return the goggles.

Stupid goggles, I curse them. You are the reason why Primpy-Pam got a pass at me. I go over to Mr. Singer’s room only to find it dark and empty. It must be his conference period. I’ll just have to give it back to him another time then.

Now, to the auditorium for this stupid speaker. Should I go, or should I not? What the hell. Where else could I go? I seriously don’t feel like walking home today. Too lazy. I know, I feel the energy, but it’s not time yet. There’s still a whole day ahead for me.

But once I get to the auditorium doors, I hesitate. I’ve been to this ‘The Right Choices’ presentation before in middle school. It’s a presentation about sex, STDs, and making the right choices in life, topics that I’m not exactly comfortable with. And the last time that I attended, I was sacrificed to be a volunteer. I swear, that guy that did the presentation had something against me, making me stand in front of hundreds of people, playing his stupid games and being a stupid guinea pig. Let’s just say, it wasn’t pretty.

Nevertheless, I find myself pulling the doors open and stepping in. And once the door closes and my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see him, standing up there, on the stage, wearing the same name on his nametag as before. It’s him, Eddie.

Some people in the audience have their hands raised and he’s scanning the crowd, which, like last time, means he’s looking for a volunteer. And me? I hightail it out of there, jerking at the door with all my strength.

“You,” and I already know where he’s pointing to without having to turn around tp look at him. “Brown hair, trying to ditch this presentation. Come on up here.”

I turn around slowly, hoping and praying that someone else is trying to sneak out of the auditorium as well, but I turn to find not only everyone else looking my way, but more importantly, Eddie, looking and pointing right at me.

And I groan and mumble as I slowly make my way up the stage. I should have just made a run for it. Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

I get there and he actually reaches his hand out for me to shake. “Hi. I’m Eddie.”

“I know.” And I glare at him.

He, in turn, smiles. “And you are?”

“Liz.” I remove my hand from his.

“Liz…?” he pushes, questioning.

“Liz,” I state. Don’t let me start preaching about last names.

“Okay, Liz.” He rubs his hands together. “Thank you for volunteering for us this evening.” And I scoff.

He goes on into his introduction about STDs and protected sex and unprotected sex, and I ignore him, scanning the crowd, praying that there isn’t anyone I know out there. And as luck would have it, everyone I know is out there: Maria, Alex, Michael, Tess, Kyle, Sean, Brad, the pompous pom-pom pack, Doug … and Max, smirking from his seat in the way back.

“All right, Liz. We are going to show the girls and boys today, the many choices that you have in life with this life forecaster.” He pulls out a large cube and hands it to me.

I look it over. “Dice?”

“But not just any die. A magic die. One that can predict your future,” he winks at me.

And I look at the giant die again. “Nifty.”

“All right, now. If you’ll look at the chart,” he clicks his projector button and another slide shows up on the projector screen, “you’ll see all the different options you have. Each outcome of each roll gives you a different outcome in life. First off, what kind of college do you want to go to, Liz?”

I skim the options. And me? I’m going to go to college. What else would you do after high school? You get a good education from an even higher learning facility. You get a degree and you make an honest living and live a boring life. So what am I going to chose? “Four-year university.”

“All right, Liz. That means you need a three. Roll that die, and see if you get to go to a four-year university.”

I roll the die and what do I get? I get a one. Great. I got a one. “Aww … it looks like you’re stuck at a community college, Liz. That’s too bad. A smart girl like you would have done well at a four-year university.”

And I’m glaring at him again. Screw him.

“Okay, next life altering decision. How many kids do you plan on having, Liz?”

“None.” I think my answer came out fast enough.

“Well, that’s a pity. I’m sure you’d make a nice little mom. But,” he clicks his little projector thingy, “the odds are against you, Liz. In order to come up with no children, you’re going to need to roll a one. Any other number and you’ve got yourself a litter of kids.”

I blow on the big die for luck before I toss it onto the stage. And I come up with … a two.

“Well, look at that, Liz. According to our life forecaster, you are going to be giving birth to one child. Congratulations.” And Eddie actually claps his hands and pats me on the back.

And I glare at him. The evil die lies.

And Eddie just keeps going “All right, Liz. Another important choice in life is whether or not you get hitched.” He looks at me. “How about it, Liz? Are you planning on tying the knot with that special someone some day?”

And sure enough, my eyes go straight to the back of the auditorium. Of their own accord, of course. I turn back to Eddie. “No.”

“Aww … I can just hear the heart of every guy breaking all across America.”

And I roll my eyes at him. Stupid Eddie.

“I love you, Liz.” I hear someone yell from the audience. And frankly, I don’t want to even think about who it could possibly have been that yelled that out.

“Well, luck just isn’t on your side,” Eddie continues, “because most people in America do get married as opposed to those who don’t. So that means,” he clicks his little projector button, “that the only way you aren’t going to get married, is if you roll a three. Any other number and you’d better break out the rice and wedding bells, you’re going to be getting hitched.”

And out of all the questions, if I want anything, it’s this. Why? Because marriages just don’t work. The numbers of divorces are now up to half the number of marriages out there. What, with everyone getting bored of each other so quickly and all. There are the arguments, the fighting, the problems. And frankly, I don’t want any part of it. And if it doesn’t end in divorce, it ends with one of the two, killing the other. Trust me, I know.

So I use my super mind powers and will the die to land on a three. I mean, if the pattern is consistent, it has to land on a three. So far, it’s landed on a one, then a two, and three comes next, right? And guess what. It rolls and rolls and rolls, and stops, and facing up was three big dots. A three. A three. I’m just about to jump up and down with joy, except the die shifts and rolls … to a one.

And my face falls.

“Ooo … almost had it there, Liz, but I’m sorry. You’re definitely getting married. We can’t let that kid of yours go without a father, now can we?”

And I’m glaring. Die Eddie, Die.

I turn and scan the crowd again. My eyes lock with his as he sits there, in the way back, smirking at me with a smug look on his face. Damn him …



--------------



So, by the end of the ‘The Right Choices’ presentation, once we were through with all the preaching on celibacy, safe sex, and all the stupid demonstration games about STDs, as the volunteer, I left for the day with a card that said that I had AIDS, a card that said I had herpes, a card that said I had genital warts, and a card that said I was having a baby boy. Ain’t it grand? Damn Eddie and his stupid presentation and his stupid presentation card games.

Why is it that he always chooses me to be the volunteer? Am I even called that? A volunteer when I didn’t even volunteer myself? I’m more like an unfortunate victim. So when the presentation was over, I decided to ask him. “Why do you always choose me?”

“Huh?” He looks up at me while still packing his projector things away. “Why do I always choose you for what?”

For what? Don’t tell me he doesn’t know. Or is he just playing dumb? “To be the so-called ‘volunteer’.” And I actually make invisible quotation marks for the word volunteer with my fingers.

And he shrugs his shoulders. “I saw you trying to sneak out and I figured I’d embarrass you a little.”

So he was punishing me. Okay. “What about the time before?”

“What?” He’s done packing away his things.

“I’ve already seen this presentation before in eighth grade. You chose me to be the ‘volunteer’ then too.” Again, with the invisible quotation marks with my fingers. You think he gets it that I wasn’t actually a volunteer?

“Oh, I did?” He scratches his head.

Yeah, you did, buddy.

And he shrugs. “Every presenter needs his lovely assistant and you are the loveliest out there. So I guess that’s why you were picked both times.” What am I supposed to say to that, other than that I don’t believe him? He smiles at me. “And you, my dear, make for the perfect little side-kick.” And he winks at me. Winks.

“Are you hitting on me? Because you know you’re not allowed to hit on me, right?” I take a step back, away from him. There’s nothing scarier than hearing a person preach about abstinence for over an hour and then have them come on to you.

“No.” He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and sighs, picking up his super-duper suitcase, filled with his tools to teach the world about safe sex, one school at a time. “Well, I’m off. Thank you for helping out with the presentation today. You did a good job.”

“You’re welcome.” And I wave at him as he walks out the auditorium doors. Sigh. Eddie isn’t all that bad, when he’s not telling you about the weird side affects to receiving ailments of the sexual kind.

I hop off the stage and head out of the school. I still have that meeting with Mrs. Deluca to attend. Not exactly something I’m looking forward to. Don’t get me wrong. I love Mrs. Deluca. It’s just that I’d rather be at home, sleeping. I know, I know. I’ve had plenty of sleep this weekend. But I just feel like I’m going to need it. I don’t know. Call it intuition, if you will. It’s just a feeling.

“Hey, Liz. Wait up.”

I stop in the middle of the hallway, turn to the voice, and see a figure walking towards me. “Hi Doug.”

He makes it next to me in a few steps and we start walking out to the parking lot together. “I saw you up there,” he’s referring to the presentation in the auditorium. “You looked good.”

And me? I blush as we step outside into the parking lot, and into the hot and bright sunny sun.

“So.” I look over at him and he’s got his hands in his pockets. He’s nervous. “Um … can I give you a ride home?”

“Oh, I’m not going home.” I scan around the parking lot, looking for someone. I wonder if he left yet.

“Oh, well I can give you a ride to wherever it is you’re going.” I’m not looking at Doug, but I bet he still has his hands in his pockets, nervous.

Should I tell him? Should I tell him that I’m looking to get a ride from Max? Should I? “Actually, Doug …”

And I was going to tell him. I really was. That was, until I saw Max’s jeep, of course. Max’s jeep with Max behind the wheel. Max’s jeep with Max behind the wheel, and Pam Troy in the passenger seat. Pam ‘I-want-to-sexually-assault-you’ Troy looking smug, sitting in the front seat with him. And I feel funny. What is Max doing with Pam? Or what is Max planning on doing with Pam? Or what is Max planning on letting Pam do to him?

And I still feel funny. Not funny ha-ha. Definitely not funny ha-ha. More of a weird kind of funny. Odd. It’s a weird strange, peculiar pang in my gut. It’s weird. “… That sounds great, Doug.”

“Great. My car’s this way.” Doug starts to walk off and I follow behind him. I mean … Doug is a nice guy, right? He’s loyal, reliable, really cute, doesn’t have a gazillion girls constantly throwing themselves at him. Did I mention he’s loyal? And if I’ve been reading him right, he likes me.

But, Liz. I thought pretty boys and plain girls don’t mix. They don’t. But with all the girls pawing Max, Doug can’t really be choosy, can he? And it’s not like I’m that bad. I’m plain, but smart. I could do his homework for him. That’s my appeal.

I seemed to have fallen a few steps behind Doug, but I look up and find him holding the passenger door open for me. I smile warmly at him and slide into his car. He has a nice car. A really nice car. The kind that you’d expect the captain of the football team and the popular guy that he is to have. Give him another warm smile that he returns. It’s kind of nice. They aren’t as fun as smirks, the smiles. But, hey, I can settle. Right?

“So, where are you heading?” He pulls the car out of the parking lot.

“Um … I’m heading over to Maria’s, but could you take me over to the Crashdown first. I think I want to change. If you don’t mind, of course. I don’t want to be a hassle.” I only added the last comment to be polite. Because that’s the kind of girl that should be around Doug, a polite one. I already know he’ll say yes. He’s a good guy like that.

“No problem, Liz. I was in the mood for an Alien Blast anyway.” He smiles at me again. And yeah. Smiles aren’t all that bad. I decided that, yeah, I could settle. I could get adjusted to smiles instead. And just forget that smirks ever existed.

The car ride to the Crashdown was a quiet one. Well, aside from the music blaring from the speakers. We didn’t really talk. I could tell Doug wanted to say something by the way he kept looking towards me and opening and closing his mouth. But I remained looking out the window, pretending to be in my own little world, which I was.

We walk into the Crashdown and Doug goes to sit in a booth while I fixed him an Alien Blast before heading to the back and up to my room. I didn’t want to look at the customers. Because once I stepped into the diner I heard the sickening flirtatious giggle of pom-pom Pam. And while I went to deliver Doug his drink, I saw the brown haired head of a certain someone. And I didn’t want to see any more than that. I didn’t want to see how much he was enjoying himself … with Pam.

So I’m upstairs changing. I’m not even sure into what. Just the first pair of jeans and t-shirt I came across. Why did I want to go home and change again? Oh yeah. There was a pull pulling me towards here, some mystical force. And now I know it was just Pam, trying to rub it in.

I walk back out into the diner and keep my eyes on Doug. He smiles and gets out of his booth, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. I put my hand on his, stopping him. “This one’s on me.”

“No. I’d feel bad not paying. After all, I did drink it.” He smiles at me and puts a five down on the table before sticking his wallet back into his back pocket.

I pick up the five and stick it in his front pocket. “You can just pay for me next time.” And he smiles. Because I just told him that he’ll pay next time, meaning that there will be a next time. And it makes him feel special.

“Okay. Let’s go.” He motions for me to start heading out the diner, and then opens the door for me, like the gentleman that he is.

“We’re heading for Maria’s?” he asks, starting up the engine of his shiny car and buckling his seat belt.

“Well, Maria’s mom’s office. Do you know where that is?” Does he know where that is? Of course he knows where it is. Everyone knows where it is. This is a small freaking town. Everyone knows where everything is.

“Of course. Is there anywhere else you wanted to stop by first?” He pulls out of the Crashdown parking lot.

“No, just there.” I return to my staring out the window in my own little world thing. And Doug remains silent until we are at Mrs. Deluca’s office. “So, here we are.” He turns off the engine and continues to walk me to the door.

“Thank you, Doug.” I’m about to head in, but he stops me.

“So … uh … Liz.” He runs his hand through his hair, nervously. “I was wondering … um … if you weren’t busy Friday, we could-”

“I work on Fridays,” I interrupted him. I didn’t really want to interrupt him. But I did. I don’t know why.

“Oh, okay.” He has that pouty sad look on his face. “How about Saturday?”

Sigh. “I work all weekend. Sorry, Doug.” I really am sorry. I really do feel bad. I do.

“Well, how about I come visit you during work then? If you don’t mind, of course.”

And I smile at him. Because he just tries so hard. “I’d like that, Doug. And I can join you during my breaks.”

And he’s smiling so wide now. “Okay, I guess I’ll be going now. Bye, Liz.”

“Bye, Doug.” I semi-wave at him.

And you know what he does? He takes a step forward and puts his arms around me. He hugs me. And what do I do? I stiffen awkwardly and pat him nonchalantly on the back until he pulls away. “Okay. Bye, Liz.”

And I semi-wave again before opening the door and entering Mrs. Deluca’s office. And guess who I find sitting patiently behind the receptionist’s area.

“So … Doug, huh?”

I sigh before dropping down in a seat. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t know. He’s … he’s a good guy. You know? He’s loyal, dependable, cute, nice.”

“Sure,” she raises her eyebrows at me, “if you want to date a poodle.”

“Maria, he’s not a poodle.” I defend Doug. I mean, I should be defending Doug, right? Since he’s a nice guy and all.

“I’m just saying,” Maria raises her hands up in surrender. “Why lower your standards?”

Lower my standards? What is she talking about? “Lower my standards?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “If you were aiming to get his highness, you might as well stick to it.”

Wait. What? “What? What are you talking about, Maria?”

Maria sighs, apparently frustrated with me. “Mr. High and Mighty himself.” And when I’m still looking at her confused, she throws her hands up in the air, exasperatedly. “Max!”

Oh … wait … “What about Max?”

“Ugh … God …” she rolls her eyes. “Just … forget it. Forget I ever said a thing.”

And I have succeeded in getting Maria to stop talking about it. It’s not like I really just didn’t want to discuss Max. Oh wait, yeah, I didn’t.

“They’ve been waiting for you,” she points at the main door behind the counter. And I’m thinking, ‘they’?

Walk over to the big wooden door and knock before turning the handle slowly while pushing the door forward and stepping in.

“Liz, you’re here.” Mrs. Deluca stands up from behind her desk and then motions to the two seats in front of her, the ones with people sitting in them. “Look who is here to see you, Liz.” Slight pause. “Liz?” Mrs. Deluca asks. She’s probably feeling a bit uncomfortable, seeing as how I’m just standing there, staring. But then again, what does she expect me to do when she holds a secret surprise meeting to introduce me to two strangers? One of whom scared the begeezies out of me last week.

“Why don’t you come have a seat, Liz?” Mrs. Deluca motions towards a seat that’s stationed at the side of her desk. It’s not too close to the strangers. It’s actually closer to Mrs. Deluca’s chair. She probably knows that I’m not all too fond of creepy strangers. So I edge slowly over to the seat, keeping an eye on the two weird men, just in case they try anything.

And once I’m seated, I turn to look at everyone, and everyone is turned to look at me. The attention is kind of getting to me. It’s weirding me out. especially the way the creepy guy keeps staring at me, straight in the eyes.

“So, Liz,” Mrs. Deluca begins, “Let me introduce you to everyone. This,” she motions towards the creepy guy, “is Edward Harding, your mother’s cousin. Remember I told you about him?” Oh, the creepy guy from the diner is my mother’s cousin. I should have known. I should have made the connection between the two once I saw how insane he was.

Sigh. I nod my head, confirming that I do indeed remember, and Edward decides to take it from there. “We’ve met. It’s good to see you again, Elizabeth.” He stands up from his chair and leans forward, reaching his hand out for me to shake. And I nod, smile, and shake his hand, because it is the polite thing to do.

“And this,” he motions to the person sitting beside him, “is Jesse Ramirez, my attorney.”

“How do you do?” Jesse Ramirez reaches out to shake my hand. And I, again, do the polite thing. Nod, smile, and shake his hand back.

“Now, Elizabeth,” the lawyer begins, opening up his briefcase. “I would like you to know that my client would like to give you his condolences on the departing of your mother and the imprisonment of your father. Had he been aware and informed of these events sooner, he would have been present at the trial and the funeral and such, but unfortunately, he was not.”

And me, I sit there and try to understand all that he’s saying. It’s all catching up to me slowly. Wait a minute. Mom had a funeral? Why wasn’t I informed of this?

“He would also like you to know that he is very interested in taking custody of you. We will begin the paperwork right away. A home on Antarian Avenue is as of …” he glances at his watch for a few seconds, “… now bought and being prepared, in which you will reside in with Mr. Harding. Your name will be corrected as soon as the paperwork is done and completed. Until then, I suggest that you prepare for the responsibilities that will await you upon becoming a Harding. If there is anything that you need to be informed of that comes to my attention, I will contact you. Now,” he turns to Mrs. Deluca, “we will be on our way. We have other business and paperwork to fill out elsewhere. Thank you for your time.” He stands up, shakes Mrs. Deluca’s hand, nods to me, and turns towards the door.

Mr. Harding, on the other hand, stands up from his chair leisurely, as if the world turned on his accord. He looks at me, frowning before he pulls a small paper sack out from the pocket of his coat. Why he has a coat in this hot and humid New Mexico weather is beyond me. He hands the small sack to me and I accept it. “It’s only a temporary adjustment, but it’ll have to make due … for now.” He turns to Mrs. Deluca and nods his head slightly. “Good day, Mrs. Deluca.” And both men exit the room.

And I remain seated there, still absorbing it all in. The creepy guy from the diner is my mother’s cousin. And my mother’s cousin is interested in taking custody of me, meaning he wants to own me. The creepy guy wants to own me. And they are going to let him, because he’s the closest family I’ve got left, despite how wacko he is. Well, damn.

“Liz?” Mrs. Deluca is calling to me but I don’t look up at her. I’m still trying to soak everything that just happened in.

They have bought and are preparing a house on Antarian Avenue. The homes on Antarian Avenue aren’t houses. They are the suburbia of mini-mansions. At least, compared to the houses that I’m used to. And I am to reside in one with Mr. Harding. I am going to have to pack all of my things back up and move into a new and different home. A large home, but still a different and strange home, nonetheless. And I wonder who else I will be forced to live with.

I lift my head up and look at Mrs. Deluca, tilting my head to the side. “Does he have a family?”

Mrs. Deluca’s eyebrows knit together and she shakes her head. “To the best of my knowledge, no. There was no mention of a family of any sort. The only family he has left is you.” Hmmm … that’s good to know.

“So, you met him before?” Mrs. Deluca is smiling uneasily. I think she’s uneasy about springing this on me all of a sudden. As well she should be. But, what the hell. My mother’s death was quite the surprise. As was my father’s imprisonment. Me moving into an orphanage was a shocker. And also my move to the Whitman’s residence. What is one more drastic, hasty, and impulsive change going to do to me? Cause me to have a nervous breakdown?

“Liz, are you okay?” Mrs. Deluca is looking at me, concerned. And she should be. After all, I’m Liz. And everyone should worry about Liz since Liz is a tad bit … crazy, you know? Sigh. Ain’t life just grand? Ain’t it?

“Liz, dear …” Mrs. Deluca starts up again with her ‘let’s talk about what just happened’ shit. She’s not a therapist, she’s a freaking child care and custody lady.

“I’ve got to go. Can’t be late for the mall.” And I just walk right out of her office, without even saying goodbye. Now that’s not polite, is it Lizzie? No, it’s not. But … I could care less right now.

“Maria. Mall.” And I walk out the front door of the office building, hoping Maria’s following, because I’m hell as not going to be going back in there to get her.

“Liz?” Maria’s voice comes from behind me. And it’s a good thing. That means she’s following. And I just stand at her car door, hear her click the lock open, and I get in before we head off to the mall.

Right then, I freeze and grab onto whatever amount of energy I have left. Can’t waste it all on the creepy man, now can we? After all, we still have a while to go, because, like it or not, my day has not yet ended.

Nope. Not by a long shot …



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 3:20 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
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Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Twelve:
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On the way to the mall, Maria drives in silence, which is a good thing, since I don’t plan on talking. I just sit there while she drives on. It is probably about ten or so minutes until I noticed that I’m still clutching something in my hands, a paper bag, the one that the creepy guy gave to me. And what’s in the paper sack? I don’t know yet, because I’m still looking at the outside of it, where there’s a small slip of paper stapled to the bag. A receipt. ‘Custom Ordered for E. Harding’ from Custom Eyes and Eyewear.

Shudder … creepy guy and his eyes. Strange. Open up the sack and pull out a small box. Oh, would you look at that. Contacts. What would I do with contacts? And suddenly, what the creepy guy has said to me starts playing back in my mind.


|| “The resemblance is so uncanny.”
“But there’s something different.”
“The eyes. It’s the eyes.”
“They’re his eyes, aren’t they?”
“It’s such a pity. Such a waste of perfection.”
“Perfection. It was in your blood.”
“Blood is blood, I suppose. We’ll just have to make do. You can be fixed.”
“It’s only a temporary adjustment, but it’ll have to make due … for now.”
||


And I shudder again. It’s all finally coming to me and I understand all that he’s been saying to me all this time. It’s my eyes. It’s because they are his eyes, Dad’s eyes, not her eyes. And it always did upset her. I inherited my mother’s straight as a board dark hair and petite figure, but not her eyes. And not her sense of superiority. Only a full-blooded Harding would have that.

I turn the box to the side and look at the color sample. And yup, sure enough, it’s mother’s eye color. It’s no wonder he had to get these contacts custom made. No one has eyes quite like Mom’s. They are a unique shade of blue mixed with slivers of silver, almost metallic like. They were such a deep blue when she was sad and they were almost completely silver bright when she was happy. Her eyes reflected her emotions like none I’ve ever seen before. No one’s eyes were quite like Mom’s. But then, no one’s attitude was quite like Mom’s either.

Mom was one of a kind. The custom made contacts just prove that fact even more. There will never ever be anyone like her ever again. Never … She used to always say things like that. That she was special. That I was special too. But I never listened to her, did I? I never listened. That’s probably why I never attended a funeral. They probably told me, I just wasn’t listening. What kind of daughter does that make me? What kind of daughter never listens to her mother? What kind of daughter doesn’t even go to her mother’s funeral? A fucked up one, that’s what.

“Liz?” Maria’s calling me softly, and it’s the first time I’ve noticed that the car has stopped, parked, and we are at the mall.

“Sorry.” I offer her an apologetic smile, unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car.

“Are you okay?” She asks me, while locking arms with me while we walk out of the parking lot and into the mall. Maybe I should tell her that I’m not all too fond of people touching me and that she’s invading my personal area at the moment. But would that really get Maria to get off of me? Highly doubt it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She’s stopped right outside the mall entrance.

Oh, yeah, I want to talk about it. Let’s spill my guts now and tell her what a horrible and terrible child I am, what stress and anxiety I am going through with everyone jerking my life around this way and that, and how much I just want the hurting to go away. It’s not physical. Physical pain is nothing compared to emotional pain. Scrapes and bruises heal naturally. But pain on the inside cuts to the core and can only heal if you let them heal, if you will them to heal, if you force it to heal. And I just don’t have the energy.

“Liz?” Maria’s looking at me, obviously concerned.

But I choose to ignore her and I walk through the doors. “Let’s go shopping.”

We step into the alternate dimension that is known as the mall, where women spend hours trying on items without purchasing them, and credit cards are used with abandon as Maria and I set foot in the first of the many stores in which we will venture into within the next few hours.



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So … an hour and twelve minutes, six stores, five shopping bags, and one hundred dollars and ninety-three cents later, she finally lets me have a break as we stop by the food court for a drink.

“See? Isn’t this fun?” she asks in a very perky voice once we’ve got our fruit smoothies and are seated down at a table. If you didn’t know, shopping gets Maria very … bubbly.

“Oh, yeah. Loads of fun.” I give her a smile and I wonder if I sound as sarcastic to her as I do to myself.

“Doesn’t shopping help get your mind off of things and make you feel relaxed?” she goes on while slurping down her smoothie at the same time.

“Oh, yeah. Peachy keen.” Let’s forget that while Maria was busy looking from rack to rack of clothes for both her and me, I was standing there, dead-like and slowly decaying on the inside from all the hurt. Emotional pain sucks ass.

“Oh, look.” She jumps up, grabbing me with her and she pulls us down the escalator, despite the fact that I had even yet to drink my smoothie. I haven’t even put the straw into the top of it yet. And still, my break from shopping is over and we are moving onto yet another store. But at least there are breaks from shopping. There aren’t, however, breaks from life. No matter how badly you wanted them. But isn’t that what vacations are for? When was my last vacation? Camping trip, when I was ten. Seven, almost eight years ago. Would you look at that?

“See? I knew we missed a store,” she exclaims before she enters. And I freeze outside the store, looking at the provocative window displays, and then up at the nice, cursive-y store name at the top. Victoria’s Secret. And there is no way I am going in there.

“Come on, Liz.” Maria comes back out and grabs my hand.

“No, Maria. I don’t feel comfortable …”

But Maria enters the store again, pulling me in behind her. “What’s not to feel comfortable about? You are past wearing training bras, right?”

And I nod my head slowly. Those were some of the most embarrassing times of my life.

“Okay, then. Ooo … look at these.” And I stand there helplessly as she browses through the many items on the table. Glance around the room and smile sympathetic smiles at all the many, many guys, forced to follow their significant others around while they rummage through tables filled with thongs, bras, panties, and all other kinds of silky and lacy things to choose from. And I feel as uncomfortable as the guys do. I thought girls that were … undeveloped in the upper area like I was, weren’t allowed in stores like these.

“Liz, what size bra do you wear?” Maria’s looked up from the table and is looking at me.

And I am suddenly very afraid. “What for?”

“I want to see if you fit this,” she holds up a lacy pink bra.

And I’m thinking, me? Pink lacy bra? Nuh uh. “What for?”

“Oh, come on, Liz. It’s something for you to make you feel sexy in,” she winks and raises her eyebrows suggestively.

Oh, yes. I’m having an emotional breakdown here and, of course, the first thing I want is to sate my overpowering desire to feel sexy.

“What size are you?” She starts again, rummaging through the stack of bras.

Oh, the hell. “I don’t know.”

She straightens up again. “What do you mean you don’t know? How can you not know?”

Maybe because I never went bra shopping before. I always just wore whatever my mom bought for me. Never really checked and never really cared. Yup. That was what Mom was for. Notice how I said was? “I just don’t, okay?”

“Okay, hold on.” And you know what she does? She circles around me, staring at my boobs. And me, I cross my arms over my chest, feeling oh-so violated. But she continues to circle around me like a vulture of some sort. And then, she goes through the back of my shirt.

“Maria!”

“Just hold still for a second.” But I pull away from her, forcing her to lose her grip on the back of my bra, causing it to snap back and come into contact with my skin.

“Oww!!” I run my hand over my back. “That hurt.”

“I told you to hold still.” And she goes to check the size on my bra again but with no trouble from me this time. I wasn’t going to go through that again.

“See? It wasn’t that bad, was it?” And she goes through the stack on the table, finds the right size and hands it to me. “I want you to go try this on.”

And she calls forth a salesperson to show me to a dressing room, or at least, show me where to wait for a dressing room. “You can try that on in here once this person is through.” And she smiles politely before walking away. But not before turning back around. “Oh, and if you need anything else, remember, my name’s Laurie.” She obviously wants her sales commission. Do they get sales commission here?

And I stand there a bit before I rub my back again. The pain’s gone away. Like I said, physical pain heals naturally. Emotional pain does not. And I suddenly realize that while I was focusing on all that physical pain, I completely forgot about all that emotional pain. Hey … I may be on to something.

“Liz,” comes a surprised, shocked, gasp. I look up and I’m quite shocked and surprised as well.

“Max. What are you doing here?” What is he doing here? I highly doubt any guy would willingly spend time in this store. Unless he gets his kicks from staring and going through all the tables and tables of under garments. I mean, some guys do like the silkiness of girls’ ... ugh … bad thought, bad thought.

“I … um …” he clears his throat before he starts smirking. “Nice. I can um … totally picture you in that.” I can see his eyes, hell, his whole head go up and down my body. And it makes me shiver, turning beet red before I hide the pink lacy thing behind my back and smile, embarrassed.

“You know, if you need assistance putting it on or anything, I’d be more than happy to help.” And for added affect, he winks at me. That’s right, winks.

And me? I roll my eyes at him. “No thank you, Max. I think I can put it on all by myself.”

“But the question is,” he steps closer to me, “do you want to put it on all by yourself?” And the smirk. It draws me in. There’s something about him that just… attracts me to him. It’s his eyes. They are so … captivating. Pretty boy and the plain girl. It’s all just a game. Should I play along? Maybe. That’s what I was thinking, until an annoying voice interrupts us.

“Max.”

Hold the phone. I pull away and Max is kind of frozen, not turning around to the voice who called him. And me? I’m pretty sure I know to whom the voice belongs. But I try to look past Max, just to confirm my presumption, that is, if Max would get out of my way. Each time I try to look over him, he moves into my view.

I put my hand on his chest to stop him and look towards the now open dressing room door. And fuck a duck. I was right. Leaning against the doorframe was Pam Troy, standing oddly comfortable in a pink lacy bra for the world to see.

“Why, look. If it isn’t little Lizzie.” She saunters out of the dressing room, and I think the eyes of every guy in the room suddenly land on her boobs. “I didn’t know they had kid sizes here.” She points at the bra in my hand.

I just shrug. “You’d be surprised, Pam, at all the things that you didn’t know.”

But she chooses to ignore my comment while she turns to Max. “Maxie, baby, what do you think about this one?” And to my horror, she sticks her chest out, pointing her melons right at Max.

Look away and I hear him ushering her back into the dressing room. Pam pouts and saunters back, not before throwing a glare in my direction though.

She finally leaves and I glare at Max. Cross my arms over my chest. “So … Pam, huh?”

“Liz, it’s not-”

“Oh, Max,” that annoying voice interrupts us again. And both of our heads snap, turning towards her. I don’t know what Max was thinking. “Max, could you please undo me?”

And I … I just … I get upset. But do I blow up at Pam? No. I blow up at Max. “Yes, Max. Why don’t you go on over there and undo her. And why don’t you go ahead and do her too. And while you’re at it, you can measure her cup size with your hands. I know she’ll highly appreciate it.” And I turn on my heel and leave. I can’t take this. I really just … I can’t handle this. My emotions are just too … out of whack and I … I just … can’t cry, not now … I …

I have to find Maria. I go to the table where she said she’d wait for me, and she’s not there. Well, great. Look around the store and I can’t see her blonde haired head anywhere. Great. Just fucking great. It’s like Batman without the Batmobile to get away in before all the evil super-villains come and get him. And sure enough, glance back and Max is coming out of the dressing area, looking for me with a shirtless Pam not far behind.

And me? I hightail it out of there to go hunt around the vast, vast mall area in search of Maria, all by my lonesome, in the large crowds of people. That is, until someone grabs my arm and pulls me aside.

My first thought was that it is Maria, but when I look back, it isn’t Maria. This arm is way too muscular to be Maria.

“Liz, I didn’t know you were going to be here.” And he’s smiling at me, dimples and all.

But me, I just … I can’t deal with him right now. But you just … you can’t be mean to him. “Doug. Hi.”

“You should have told me you were going to the mall. I would have gone with you.” He smiles with dimples again before he grabs my hand and pulls me into a more clear area, out of people’s way. “Who are you here with?”

Who was I here with again? Who was it that I was looking for? Who was it that left me? “Maria.”

“Oh.” Again, he smiles. “I saw her just a while ago. She was with Michael.”

Wait … what? With Michael? “What?”

“Yeah. I just saw her.” He’s nodding his head and still smiles. And the smiles are pissing me off, especially since I’m not in the mood for smiles, nor smirks for that matter. “Really, I did.”

“Great. Just fucking great.” I was ditched for a guy. And Michael, of all guys. Fucking hippie-haired freak. My life … my life just sucks. It sucks.

And Doug looks a bit uneasy, what with me saying the F-word and all. “You know, if you need a ride home or anything …”

And suddenly, I see Max coming towards us, a few feet away. “Quick, Doug.” I pull him towards me so that I’m hiding behind him, blocked from Max’s view.

“What? What is it, Liz?” I’m pretty sure Doug doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Nothing …” I shake my head. “It was just-”

“So, now I’m nothing?” And the person I was just avoiding is standing right next to me. Sigh. Freaking emotions, running rampant, unruly and erratic, like a flame. Fuck.

And it’s still all three of us, standing there, together. It’s quite awkward. I can only guess what’s going on in either of their heads. You can feel some kind of tension rolling off of both of them. And I seem to be the referee. Which of the two do I want to call out?

Was it really that hard of a choice? “What do you want, Max?”

“To talk,” he says to me and then he turns his head to Doug. “Leave.”

Is he serious? How is it that Max seems to think he holds so much power, ordering people around?

But then, it shocks and surprises me when Doug turns to look at me. “I’ll call you,” before he turns to walk away.

And I turn to look at Max, but he isn’t looking at me. No. He’s looking at Doug, or rather, glaring at the back of Doug’s head, scoffing. “Call you? Like hell he will,” before he turns back to me.

And me? I turn and walk away. I’m ditching Max. Just like how he ditched me … for Pam. Just like how everyone ditches me. Mom. Dad. Maria. Everyone.

And after a few steps, he’s there, walking beside me. And I just … I can’t take this. “I’m not listening to whatever you have to say, Max.”

And I don’t turn to look at him, but I bet he’s shaking his head. “I’m not saying anything. I’m just walking. You’re looking for Maria, right?”

Is that who I’m looking for again? Really? I could have sworn I was just roaming around the freaking mall, having pity-parties and crying my eyes out. While Max, of course, is running around with the slut-princess herself. Do I really want to be around him right now? No. “I don’t need your help finding her. Why don’t you just go back to fucking Pam?”

And it’s a while before I hear him speak again, though he’s still following me. “That was a low blow, Liz. But I’m not going to say anything because I probably deserve that.”

Nod my head, violently. “Damn straight. I’m surprised Poodle Pam isn’t following you around like the good little bitch that she is.”

And I hear a sigh coming from Max, but I don’t turn to look at him. I keep my head looking straight as my feet walk quickly away. “She might deserve to hear that too with what she’s trying to pull. But the security guard caught her on the way out the store, asking her to remove the store merchandise before she left the premises.”

And I come to a halt. And Max stops too, once noticing that I was no longer walking. And I look him dead in the eye, lifting an eyebrow. “What? And she didn’t take the bra off right then and there?”

And he shrugs, very nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t know. My attention was focused elsewhere.”

And I want to come up with a good come-back. I do. I really do. But I’m just so tired and drained. I can’t take this. And my voice suddenly looses the angry edge that it had before. It just takes too much energy to be angry. But I still manage to clench my teeth, narrow my eyes, and cross my arms over my chest, having the pretense of being overly enraged. “Why are you following me around? Unlike Pam, I’m not easy.”

And he’s wiggling his eyebrows. “And don’t I know it.”

And he’s not taking me seriously. The bastard is not taking me seriously. I’m having an emotional crisis and he’s not taking me seriously. So what do I do? I turn on my heel and leave.

But with short legs like mine, it’s not long before he catches up to me. “I’m here because I care.”

And I have to stop again, look him in the face, and laugh. “That’s classic.” And I have to start walking again. I have to be active, because if I stand still, I’ll break down. And I can’t, not here, not now, and not in front of him.

“Look, you’re angry and something tells me it has to do with more than just seeing me with Pam.” His voice has lost its laugh to it. I guess he’s taking me seriously now. I wonder if he’s all serious around Pam, or even worse, if he’s all playful.

So I stop again, looking at him. “Why, on earth, were you with Pam, anyway?” I thought he didn’t like her. I thought … never mind what I thought because obviously I was wrong.

He sighs and it looks like he’s struggling with something. “I … I can’t tell you.” And I, once again, bolt. But, again, it doesn’t take him long to catch back up with me. “Just know that it’s not where I want to be.”

Well, he didn’t look all too miserable. “Oh, really? You could have fooled me.”

And he actually has the nerve to get angry at me. “Well, I didn’t think you’d notice, seeing as how you’ve been devoting so much time on Shallow.”

And you know what? I’m glad he’s mad. I’m glad. Why? I have no fucking idea. So I stop again and correct him, “Shellow. And don’t even start bringing him into this.”

“Why not?” His amber eyes turn fiery as they narrow in on me. “You brought up Pam.”

“You know what? Fine. Screw this. I’ve been through enough shit, okay? I don’t need this!” And I get to storm off, yet again, because I don’t have to put up with this shit. From my mom, my dad, it was fine because they were family. But not from him. I’m not letting him get to me. I can’t let him get to me. I’m already broken.

But he catches up with me again. “Liz …” his voice is soft and concerned-like. And it gets me even more upset. Why? I don’t know.

“Fuck off, Evans!” And I start walking faster. And as predicted, he adjusts his pace to match mine.

God, why won’t he just go away and leave me to my lonesome self? I have no more energy left. Nothing left of me. They took it all. So my voice is left frail and puny, just like me. “Stop following me.”

And oddly enough, his voice somewhat reflects mine … in sadness. Or am I imagining it? “I’m not following you.”

And I make a sharp turn while he keeps walking straight. A few seconds later, he’s beside me again. And I smile a sad pathetic smile. “Not following me, huh?”

“You know, you walk pretty fast for a short person.” He’s trying to joke. He’s trying to make me laugh. Because he apparently thinks I need to laugh. But doesn’t he get that I’m not in a joking mood? Or maybe that’s what I need, to forget about all this shit and just move on. No. What would Max know? Max doesn’t know jack crap.

And my voice gains its edge again. “Why don’t you stop following me then?”

But his voice remains calm and even. God, he makes me sick. “Because you’re angry. And it’s better that you let the anger out on me than bottle it away like I know you will.”

I stop sharply and look at him. “Oh yeah? And how the hell do you know that, Max?”

The bastard smiles. “Because I know you.”

And I make sure to say each word slowly so that it will get through his conceited thick-skinned head. “Like hell you do. You don’t know shit about me.”

“I would if you’d tell me.” How he manages to keep his voice cool when I am blowing up at him is beyond me. And it seems to aggravate me more.

“Well, it’s not for you to know.”

And that did it. It broke down his calmness. “God, with how you’re acting. It’s no wonder Maria left you.”

Silence.

That’s what he got from me, because that did it for me too. It broke down my anger. Because there was no more energy for anger. There was no more energy for anything. I can’t be angry with him. Because he was right. Maria left me. Dad left me. Mom left me. Why? Because I am a horrible, horrible person. So much that everyone leaves me. They always leave me.

“Liz?” He’s not mad anymore either. Maybe because he can see that I’m broken. Because all my life I’ve been living and surviving in denial. It’s the only way I’ve made it through the last few weeks, by building up my walls, keeping out all of the bad things and not listening to what I don’t want to hear. But now there’s too much. There’s just too much. And the walls are all crashing down on me. And I can’t take it.

“Liz?”

My mom is gone. My dad is rotting away in jail. My life had been swished this way and that and it’s about to take yet another turn. Everything I have is gone. Dust in the wind.

“Liz? Talk to me.”

“Fuck off, Evans …” And my voice is as weak and frail as I am.

And arms come around me. But I can’t feel them. No. I can’t feel anymore. I’m detached from my body, and sinking deep within my mind, where everything is hunky-dory.

“God, Liz. I-I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. It’s okay, Liz. I’m sorry. It’s okay.” And I can still hear him, but only vaguely. I’m sinking quick. God, I’m so tired. Why am I so tired? I’m just so exhausted. And I can’t hold it back anymore. I can’t even stand anymore. But I don’t fall, no. Because arms are holding me up. But they will leave too, just like how everyone leaves me. And I’ll fall …

I just can’t hold it back anymore. The tears come streaming down. “Why do they always do this to me?”

“Do what to you?” I can hear him. But I can’t feel him. I can’t feel anymore. And I can’t see him. Because my eyes are blurred over with tears, and I can’t make anything out.

And it doesn’t matter anymore. Because everyone leaves me. Everyone hurts me. “They hurt me.”

And I lose my grip on the world. The grounding is out from under me. And few seconds later, I come to the surface, and I’m sitting on a bench, leaning against the wall, in an alley in the mall with Max hovering closely over me. “Who hurts you?”

Who, Max? Who hurts me? Who doesn’t hurt me? No one. Who hurts me? “Everyone.” More tears fall.

And I see his hand come up and wipe them away, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel. “Tell me. And I’ll take care of it, Liz.”

No, Max. It’s not that simple. Nothing’s ever simple. Bone-cutting emotional pain just doesn’t go away with the snap of a finger. “There’s nothing you can do. You can’t stop the pain.”

But I don’t think he thinks the way I do. No, not Max. Max thinks he’s God. Max thinks he can do anything. Part the Red Sea even. “I can stop anything.”

And I really … I wish he could. But he can’t. “Not this.” And more tears fall. And I can’t even sit up on my own anymore. I’m too tired. I see my body go limp, but I never hit the bench or the floor. I hit his shoulder when he pulls me into his arms. And I wish I could feel, but I can’t. Because inside, I’m busy, rummaging through the pieces in my broken mind, trying to figure out what went wrong.

“Just tell me, Liz. Tell me what’s wrong. Who is hurting you? Is-Is it Sean? Is it Doug?”

“No,” my voice is so weak. Can he tell that my voice is weak? That I’m weak? I think he can.

“Liz …”

He’s so warm with his arms around me. It makes me aware of exactly how cold I feel with his warmth radiating off of him and absorbing through my skin. And it’s as though I’m pulling energy from him. But it’s not enough. Max can’t help me. I can’t let him. Because, in the end, he’ll just leave me. Just like everyone else. And I can’t rely on him. Because I’ll get attached, and he’ll leave me. Pretty boys and plain girls just don’t mix. No matter how you put them together. And it will hurt, more than it hurts right now. And right now … “It hurts.”

“What?” He’s holding me away from him. But I don’t want him to hold me away from him. I want to be in his arms. Pull warmth from him. “Where?”

Everywhere, Max. Everywhere. But it’s not physical pain. No. It’s not on the outside. “You can’t see it. It’s on the inside.”

“What happened?” He pulls me back into his arms and I start absorbing his warmth in. Can I tell him? Should I? Can I rely on Max? Will he leave me? Should I … could I risk it? The first step to recovery is acceptance, right? Recognizing your problem, like in AA meetings. Hi, I’m Liz and I’m a Denial Game-a-holic?

“Liz?”

I look up and I … his eyes. They pull me in. They are so … they’re sad. He’s sad for me. Worried and concerned. His emotions are splayed out through his eyes. And he’s worried … for me. Mom’s eyes were never worried for me. Not once did they show that she was sad for me. But Max’s … maybe … maybe. If I let him help me, will he end up leaving me? Can I risk it? Maybe …

“T-Today … I had … a meeting … with Mrs. Deluca … and-God, even before today … my mom … my dad … and …”

“Max, there you are. Well, what do we have here?” I don’t turn to her. I can’t turn to her. I refuse to look at her, to let her see my tears. So I stare straight, not at Max, past Max. I can’t even look at Max right now. He’s probably staring at Pam, anyway. At her boobs. “Is little Lizzie having a nervous breakdown? Did Sean call the engagement off? Is that it? Or did you finally look in the mirror and see that wearing safety goggles-”

“Pam-” Max interrupts her.

But, I-I can’t take this. I can’t take this. Not now. Not now. Not from her. So I jump up and run. Tears in my eyes and I can’t see, but I just run. It didn’t matter that people were staring at me. It didn’t matter that I was knocking over others who didn’t see me on my way to the closest exit of the mall. Nothing mattered anymore. I just … needed to get out of here. I need to be alone.

And the quiet darkness of the outside in the parking lot is my bliss, my heaven. The silence is my safe haven, where I can let myself go back to building up my walls again, one layer at a time, blocking away the bad things that I’m just not ready to accept or think about yet. It’s rhythmic. Cement, brick, cement, brick.

“Liz?”

Fucking great. No. Not now. But he still comes.

“Hey,” his voice is smooth and friendly, like the gentleman that he is. “Maria left, she couldn’t find you. I told her I’d give you a ride home. Are you … are you okay, Liz?”

No, Doug. I’m not. So leave me the hell alone. “I’m fine.”

“Come on. I’ll take you home.” And I see him drape his arm over my shoulder, pulling me to him. But there’s no warmth. Why isn’t there any warmth?

“Liz!”

“Fuck.” Just what I need, another run in between the two of them. And pom-pom Pam is probably following shortly behind too. I just want Doug to just keep walking and not turn around. But Doug doesn’t. Doug turns around, with his arm still around me.

“Look, Max. She’s had a rough day. And I’m going to take her home. So why don’t you just … leave her alone?”

And I want to scoff, because that’s all I’ve been asking of Max to do, and if I couldn’t get him to leave, what makes Doug think he can?

“Why don’t you just fuck off, Shellow.” And I don’t want to look up at Max, because I know he’s mad. It’s the quiet simmering that Max does so well.

But Doug, being the good little boy that he is, doesn’t blow up at Max, no. He talks calmly, although his grip on my shoulders tightens. “Look, Liz has obviously been through a lot-”

“What the hell would you know?” Max says before I can sense his eyes on me, his voice softer. “Come on, Liz. I’ll take you home.”

Doug pushes me to stand behind him. “What if she doesn’t want to go home with you? After all, it’s kind of chilly out. I don’t think that rusty jeep of yours is all too suitable for her to ride in.”

And I feel the tension coming off in waves, both fighting for the alpha male title. Doug barking at Max, and Max biting back.

“Your car wouldn’t be suitable either, would it, if its tires suddenly blew up?”

And me? I just … I can’t take any more of this. I just walk away. There is just too much testosterone for me too handle. They’ll probably still be biting at one another for a good half an hour before either of them notice that I’m missing. And I’ll be long gone by then.

I wrap my arms around myself. It’s oddly chilly out tonight. Not that I care. I’m already numb, what’s a drop in the temperature going to do to me? Kill me? Hah … I wish.

Clench my fists.

I mean, there’s only so much you can take in life before you lose it. Dad used to say just that to mom.


|| “Anna, there’s only so much a man can take of this before he loses it.” ||


And Dad lost it, didn’t he? He sure did. Now look where he is. Violence never solves anything.

Clench fists.

And Mom. It wasn’t her fault. It was mine. What mom wouldn’t want to get away when she had a daughter who wouldn’t listen to her, ever? I mean, moms and daughters are supposed to have this connection, right? This bond that links them together? I didn’t link with mom like I was supposed to. I ignored her. She may not have been the best mom, but she was still my mom. And now she’s gone.

Unclench and clench fists.

And my nails are digging deep into my palms, and it feels good. No, I’m not crazy. There’s a fine line between sane and insane and I may be flirting with it, but I haven’t jumped that bridge yet. Physical pain heals naturally. But emotional pain lingers in the mind. And if the mind is busy focusing on the physical pain, it forgets all about the emotional pain. And the hurting eases, because I can take the physical pain. It’s the emotional pain that I can’t handle.

So I walk the rest of the way to the Crashdown, to my room, clenching and tightening my fists, and straight into the bathroom, turning on the sink water and running my hands under it. The water runs down the drain with a tint of red. Red from my nails and red from my skin. But do I care? No. I just smile. The cuts begin to sting, but I don’t care. Physical pain heals naturally. Like the time I was five, when my dad first taught me how to ride a bike. I begged and begged for him to let me ride on my own, but he told me I wasn’t ready. And he was right. Once he let me go, not a few seconds later, I fell and scraped my elbow and knee. But he picked me up and we put band-aids on it. It fully healed a few weeks later without even leaving a scar. And we tried again. But Dad’s not here to hold the bike for me, is he? He’s not here to tell me that I’m not ready yet.

And suddenly, it wasn’t enough. Turn off the water and I walk over to my bed, kneeling down and pulling out my box from under it. I open it up and look in it. It’s all that I own. All that holds any significance to me. A bracelet that mom let me have out of her jewelry box. A musical birthday card. Photographs, among other things. But I’m only focused on one thing. The present Dad gave me on our camping trip. A pocket knife.

It flips open easily and I stare at the blade. It shines from the gleam of the streetlight through the window. And I can’t take my eyes away, running my finger over it. This is the key to my ecstasy, the entrance to paradise. And I was never one to deny myself.

Run the blade softly over my left wrist, without pressure. No, not enough to do any damage. Just to get a feel of it, watching as my mind begins to hum. I smile, running the blade over the same area again, still not enough to pierce the skin. But after a few strokes, it begins to tingle, my mind begins to blur, and I smile. Repeating, over and over, until I saw red. Red on the blade, on my skin, drip, drip, on the floor, and I smile.

“Liz?”

Shit. Well, it’s a damn good thing I’m on the other side of the bed, huh?

“Liz?” He’s coming closer.

“Y-Yes, Alex?” my voice is weak. I’m weak. Maybe, he’ll see how tired I am and decide to go away. Please?

“What are you doing on the ground?” He’s coming closer still and I manage to hide my box back under my bed.

“N-Nothing … just … cramps.”

“Oh.” And he buys it, and fidgets uncomfortably. Most guys do. “Um … Mrs. Deluca dropped this off for you. She said you rushed off so fast she forgot to give it to you.” And Alex tosses it on the bed.

“Thanks, Alex. Could you … leave? I’d like to be alone.” And I pray that he leaves. I pray that he just goes away.

But he hesitates and takes a step closer.

“Ah …” grab my stomach, “cramps.”

“Oh, okay,” and he backs off. Good boy. “I’ll just … leave. Good night, Liz.”

And I manage a small smile. “Good night, Alex.”

He shuts the door and I fall to the floor, the knife to my side. What did I just do? Oh God. I look at the knife, with blood on the edge of the blade and my wrist with a line of blood surfacing, the skin swelling up a bit along it, and I feel sick. I pick up the knife and throw it across the room, hearing it land with a clang on the floor.

Fuck. What the hell did I do? What was I thinking? Breathe. Breathe. Almost pulling my hair out and the tears come, running down my face, saltiness entering my mouth. I need to calm down. I just … I wasn’t thinking, was all. Physical pain. It will go away. Physical pain heals. It’ll heal and I can … I can forget it ever happened. This never happened. Never happened.

And I sit up, still on my knees. Everything is fine. It’s all fine. I’m not crazy. It will heal. I’m fine. And no one will know that anything ever happened. Look on the bed and pick up the envelope Alex left from Mrs. Deluca.

And my smile fades, with what last bit of sanity and energy I have left, slipping away. And I go numb and crumple to the ground. It was a letter for me, all right. It was addressed to ‘Lizzie Bear’, the one and only. But it wasn’t from Mrs. Deluca. Top left corner, Hank Philips. New Mexico State Penitentiary …



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 9:30 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
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Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Thirteen:
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Ever have those days where you just don’t want to wake up? Well, this morning was one of them. But no matter how much I willed the sun not to come up, the rays of bright light defied me and streamed through the window, making everything go from fuzzy to clear while my eyes slowly opened and adjusted to the light.

And I roll over in my bed because I still don’t want to get up just yet. But it is a school day and little Lizzie can’t be late, now can she? Kick back my covers and sit up on the side of the bed. Yawn, scratch my neck, and I am about to get up when I notice something, something that I should have noticed earlier. I’m wearing jeans. Since when do I start wearing jeans to bed? Hmm … chalk it up, ignore it, and move on.

I stand up, stretching and heading towards the bathroom, that is, until I step on something, it slides, I slip, and I fall … right flat on my back. Ouch. There’s a loud thud that vibrates in my ears, followed by footsteps and the squeaking opening of the door.

“Liz, are you okay?”

Sigh. This is just a great start to the day, isn’t it? “I’m fine, Alex.” I just enjoy staring at the ceiling this early in the morning. They’re just so nifty and neat, ceilings are.

“Oh … it’s the thing, right. I … um … I think mom has some stuff for it.” And the footsteps leave and I just lie there. Why? I have no freaking clue. I hear Alex’s footsteps approach again from the hallway. They get louder until he’s in my room again. And now he’s hovering above me.

“Here.” He hands me something and I take it, looking it over. “That should help. At least, I think so … but I … I wouldn’t really know … so I’ll just … you know … let you … yeah.” And the door shuts and the footsteps die down. And I’m just lying there wondering why, in hell, did Alex hand me a bottle of Midol. Hmm … chalk it up, ignore it, and move on.

And moving on forces me to stand up, and so I do, getting up off the ground. Stretch a little more. My muscles are stiff. But then, what did I expect? This day already started out weird. I’m probably going to walk into the bathroom, look in the mirror and find that I’ve grown a second head. But once I start heading toward the bathroom, I notice, on the ground, what it was that I slipped on. The back of a white envelope. Looks unopened. Hmm … chalk it up, ignore it, and move on.

Step over it, get into the bathroom and I pretty much go through my morning ritual of brushing my teeth and washing my face with my eyes closed. I spit out the toothpaste and open my eyes, looking down into the sink, and there are little red rings in the sink. They’re an odd shade of red, they are. Shrug my shoulders. Alex probably cut himself shaving again. It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably won’t be the last. Chalk it up, ignore it, and move on.

I get dressed, grabbing the first t-shirt and jeans I can find and sling my bag over my shoulder. Stop by the window and glance outside. It’s nice and sunny. I smile. It’s a good day today. Sigh happily. Perfect for a walk. I grab my watch and snap it onto my hand and … and it stings. But I bite my lip, hold back the tears, ignore it and move on.

Smile on my face and head for the kitchen. Alex smiles a good morning to me as he sits with his bowl of fruit loops at the table. “All ready to go, Liz?”

I just nod my head, heading into the kitchen and opening up the cabinet. “Yeah, Alex. I kind of felt like walking to school today. It’s nice out.” I finally find what I’m looking for in the first aid box. Grab a few of them, throw them in my bag before walking out of the kitchen.

“Are you sure, Liz?” He looks up from his bowl of his colorful sugarcoated breakfast. “You’ve been kind of tired lately. But that’s just probably because of the … thing. Is it okay for you to walk? Because I remember when I was little, I had a … um … cramp while I was swimming and I kind of … almost drowned. And you know if you like … walk and have a … cramp … then you might … drown.”

And I smile because you just can’t help but smile at Alex. He’s just so … Alex-y. There’s no other way to describe it. It’s that mixture of goofiness and yet sincerity and oh-so much more. Nod my head, “I’ll be fine, Alex. You worry too much.”

I head out, grabbing my sweater on the way and tugging it on as I open the door and freeze. “Max.”

“Liz … hi … uh … hey … um, wha-what are you doing here?” He’s fidgeting. Why is he fidgeting?

“I live here, Max.” Why is this day suddenly getting weirder and weirder?

“Oh yeah … I knew that. I-um … I needed to …”

Sigh. You ever get the feeling you’re not wanted? “He’s in the kitchen.” I point towards the kitchen while finishing tugging on my sweater and squeezing past Max.

That is, until he grabs my arm. “Where are you going?”

“To school,” I say slowly, eyeing his hand on my arm, and then him, and then his hand again, until he gets the hint and lets go.

“Oh, um …” he nervously puts his hands in his pockets. “I could give you a ride.” And I still can’t understand why he’s fidgeting. What? Did he just suddenly decide to be Shy Max now? Just like how he must have just decided that he actually did prefer blondes?

Shake my thoughts and sigh. “No, Max. I think I’d rather walk.”

“It’s hot outside, Liz.”

No shit, Sherlock. This is freaking New Mexico. “I know, Max.”

“It’s just …” again with the freaking fidgeting, “it’s hot, and … you … sweater.” He points to the outer layer of clothing I have on.

And I just shrug. “I like sweaters. They’re nice.” And I walk away, because I don’t expect him to understand. No, actually, I’m lying. I did expect him to understand. If anyone would have understood, it would have been him. He has his layers and I have my sweaters. But he doesn’t understand. No one understands. And it’s okay. I accept it. No one understands me. I am misunderstood. And it’s okay. Like Emerson said, ‘to be great is to be misunderstood’. And I am great. Yup. A great big waste of space.

Sigh. Tears start forming in my eyes and I have to bite my lip to stop them from coming out. And it’s hot. Why did I want to walk again? Oh, yeah. To get out of the house and away from everyone else. People are evil. Malls are evil. Or maybe it’s just me that’s evil. I mean, if a daughter hasn’t seen or heard from her father in a long time, she should be jumping for joy to have news of him. But what do I do? Nothing. Why? Because I’m evil. Evil with a capital E. Evil Elizabeth. Evil Elizabeth eats earthworms. Did I also mention that I have gone crazy?

God, it is freaking hot. Why did I walk again? Oh yes. So I can talk to myself without interference. If I had ridden with Alex, it wouldn’t have actually been a peaceful or quiet ride. Don’t get me wrong. Alex is a great guy. He’s just a tad bit on the bubbly side. Not that it’s bad or anything, just … bubbly.

Sigh. Reach into my bag and look for those nifty little strips I threw in there earlier. And what really gets to me is that I don’t find them. Where the hell are they? I packed them in my bag earlier. So they should be in there, but they aren’t. They seemed to have disappeared, like everything else in my life.

And I … I just can’t take it. Everything has been close to normal so far. Everything has gone on like nothing happened but the gods just aren’t … they aren’t working with me here. I’m trying so hard to just let go and forget but they just won’t help. So what do I do? I do what I do best. I pretend. I pretended like it didn’t happen and that my life is the perfect little life that everyone expects me to have. But it’s not. I try to be the perfect little person that everyone thinks I am, but I’m not. And I can’t … I can’t take it anymore!

Drop to my knees and throw my bag down, emptying it out and rummaging through the pile of stuff for the fucking band-aids. But I can’t find them, and tears are forming again. And as luck would have it, I can hear him, his car coming to a stop in the street beside me, his door opening, and his footsteps approaching me. I should have known he was going to show up. He always fucking shows up right in the middle of my fucking emotional crises.

“Liz, are you okay?”

No, I’m not fucking okay. I’m down on the ground like a lunatic searching frantically for something to cover up the stupid marks that my stupid self made on myself so that no one will accidentally see it and start thinking that little Lizzie has gone crazy. Deep breath. “I’m fine, Doug.”

“Oh, okay … you need a ride?” He’s still standing and points towards his car while I am on the ground trying to stuff all of my things back into my bag.

“No, thank you, Doug.” I stand up, brushing off my jeans. “I think I’d rather walk.”

“Well unless you run, you really won’t make it to school on time.” He’s looking at his nice gold watch. Here’s a boy who has never been put through any kind of shit before. “You’ve only got about five minutes until the bell.”

And I smile as sweetly as possible. Because that’s what little Lizzie would do. “Then I’ll run.”

“I could run with you.” He’s smiling shyly and I just can’t see why he can’t get it into his football playing, pig-skinned head that I don’t want him around because I can’t pretend to be the little Lizzie that everyone wants me to be, not while I’m in the middle of a nervous breakdown.

So bad that if he doesn’t leave in the next few seconds, I am going to go berserk. Smile sweetly. “No, Doug …”

“Go away.”

And we both turn toward the voice. How Max came to standing beside us without us noticing, is really beyond me. But I am not in the mood.

Max looks at me. “Come on, Liz. I’ll give you a ride to school.” And he turns from us. Is he expecting me to just follow him like some kind of puppy? Because if he is, he’s in for a rude awakening.

But Doug’s voice kind of drowns me out. “I don’t think she really wants to be seen driving up in your rusty old jeep. It won’t do good for her reputation.”

“Does this look like a rusty old jeep to you?” Max points towards a nice blue convertible and leans on the side of his car. God freaking boys and their god damn toys. And there they are, both standing beside their cars, looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to choose.

And I … I turn and continue my walk down the street. Because they are both egotistical Neanderthals, who aren’t really interested in me, not the real me. The real delusional, depressive, self-mutilating me would have them running as far away as possible. No, if what ever it is that attracts them to me is any more than just some kind of rival battle over power between the two males, it’s not to the real me, it’s to Lizzie. Stupid, naïve, perfect little Lizzie. Because she’s the perfect little trophy to have by your side since she’ll just stand there and look all innocent and sweet, unlike Pam, whose reputation seems anything but pure. Oh, and she can do their homework for them.

But they’ll soon realize that boring little Lizzie isn’t enough. She wasn’t enough for Mom. She wasn’t enough for Dad. They all died or are rotting in hell.

Was last night really all that bad? What’s a little pain compared to letting me forget for a few blissful moments? Nothing. But then it’s not something little Lizzie would do, now is it? No siree.

So when I walked into school half an hour later, the entire world was shocked. Little Lizzie late for school? Perish the thought.

“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Stephens,” my pathetic apology once Alex opens the door for me to enter.

She’s seated behind her desk and Alex is giving me questioning looks. “That’s all right, Liz. Do you have a pass?”

No, lady. I don’t. I shake my head no and am about to voice my answer, but someone butts in, answering for me like he always seems to do.

“Sorry, Mrs. Stephens. Liz was helping me change a flat tire.”

“Oh, all right, Max. I hope everything is okay now?”

And I look at Max in disgust. How could he stand there and lie like that? Well, apparently, he has no problem with it.

“Everything is fine now, Mrs. Stephens. It’s just a miracle that Liz was there to help me.” He looks at me and winks. And I am gagging. Can she not tell that he’s lying? How the hell is little me going to be help him change a flat tire? There is no way that she is going to buy that.

“That’s good. As long as everything’s okay. Why don’t the two of you have a seat and we’ll continue with our lesson. We’re reading chapter twenty-two.” And she bought it.

I walk to my usual table to sit with Maria and Alex and the both of them are looking at me strangely. They both gawk until Alex finally speaks up.

“Wow, Liz. I didn’t know you knew how to change a flat tire.” And Maria is nodding her head along with Alex.

Don’t tell me the whole world has gone dense. This just … isn’t happening. Lay my head down on the table and just squeeze my eyes shut. But I can still hear Alex whispering.

“She must be tired from changing that flat tire.”

Ahh … Freaking freak freak freak. What is up with these people? I can’t … I-grrr … Stand up and walk straight back to Max’s table, where he’s quietly sitting and reading his book. “I need to talk to you for a second, Max.”

He slowly puts his book down and looks up at me innocently. But I yank on his arm and pull him out of the chair and towards the door.

“Sorry, Mrs. Stephens,” she has probably been looking at me strangely since my abrupt standing a few seconds earlier, “I just need to talk to Max for a little while.” I don’t wait for her reply. I just pull Max out the door and around the corner, next to a few lockers, a water fountain, and the boy’s bathroom. And I explode at him.

“What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean, Liz?” Still with the innocent boy looks. And I just want to … grrr …

“I didn’t help you change your tire,” shake my head from side to side vigorously just to get my point across.

“No, you didn’t. You walked away from me while I was offering to give you a ride to school. That wasn’t very nice, Liz,” but he says it all nice, even, and calmly.

And I laugh. “I don’t give a damn if it wasn’t nice, Max. You lying to the teacher in there wasn’t all too nice either, now was it?”

He shrugs. “Well, it kept you out of trouble, didn’t it?”

Roll my eyes and scoff. Just typical. Max to the rescue to come and save the day. I don’t partake to the damsel in distress thing all too well. “I don’t need your help, Max.”

“Okay, fine. I wasn’t helping you. I was using you to help me. I needed an excuse for being late and thought that you would do for a nice little alibi. It made the story seem more realistic. I’m sorry if I upset you in any way.” He’s still talking calmly and evenly. Doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t get angry.

And it just pisses me off even more.

“Liz, is something wrong?”

Damn straight. You know what? Screw little Lizzie. I’m just … so … “Grr … why are you being so calm while I’m yelling at you?”

And he shrugs. Just shrugs. “What do you want me to do?”

I want you to jump off a freaking building, Max. “I’m yelling at you. Defend yourself. Get angry.”

“I can’t.” He starts narrowing his eyes at me, but he doesn’t hold it for long and once his lips start smiling, it reaches up to his eyes and he loses it again. “See? I can’t.”

And you know what? Screw it, just … moving on. “Okay, what were you doing walking in the same time I was? You have a car. I walked. You should have made it here long before I did.” See? This is where logic comes in.

“You are a really nosy one, aren’t you?” He’s smiling. Freaking smiling.

Cross my arms over chest, frown, and glare. “Max.” I am not in the joking mood.

I think he gets it because he throws his hands up in mock-surrender. “Okay. I followed you.”

“What?”

And he shrugs again. “I left my car parked there and I followed you.”

And of all the questions I should be asking him, the one thing I think of right now is, “what happened to the jeep?”

“It’s collecting dust. Blue convertible Chevy Chevelle. A lot nicer than a rusty old jeep. Don’t you agree? I can take you for a ride in it.” He smirks and I suddenly feel oddly reassured by it somehow.

But he just had his jeep yesterday. When he drove Pom-Pom Pam in it. “You suddenly got a car, just like that?” Snap my fingers.

“What? You don’t like it?” He pouts his lip and no matter how much I don’t want to think it, the thought involuntarily enters my mind. He’s adorable.

Bite my lip, smile, and sigh. I am so pathetic. “The car is nice.”

“Let’s go. I’ll take you cruising in her.”

“What?” Is he suggesting that we ditch school? “No, Max. Umm …” Damn. There was something we were talking about. What was I going to ask him? Oh! “What were you following me for?”

And he shrugs. “I didn’t want you to get kidnapped or anything.”

Kidnapped? Here? “In Roswell? In broad daylight?”

“Hey, you never know.” And he shrugs again.

There’s a brief silence. We hear footsteps coming from around the corner. And I sigh and wait, because it was bound to happen. It always happens. They always show up together. If one is there with me, the other one just has to pop his head up sooner or later. And imagine my surprise when it isn’t Doug who turns the corner, it’s Sean.

“Sean, hi.” I do not know why, but am actually glad to see him.

“Hi, Liz …” he smiles and waves at me and then glances at Max. “Max.” Sean nods his head at Max and begins fidgeting.

Meanwhile, Max has a cool smile on his face. “Hi, Sean. How’ve you been?”

“Good, good.” Sean nods his head and fidgets some more.

“You’ve been good? That’s great. Seen Tess lately?” And Max smiles again.

Whoa … are Tess and Sean an item? That is a weird combination.

“No, no. I’ve been good.” Sean nods his head again.

“That’s good. Excuse me. My throat is kind of … dry.” Max leans over and takes a drink from the water fountain.

I glance back over at Sean, who is covering his ears with his hands and running down the hallway.

Max wipes off his mouth, straightening up and snickering.

“What was that about?” eyeing him warily. I get the feeling that Max had something to do with it.

“Nothing,” he says it innocently, but you can just imagine the little horns popping up from the top of his head.

Normally, I would just leave it at that. But things have just been too weird lately. “No, I want to know.”

“Liz,” he sighs, shaking his head, “ever heard the phrase, ignorance is bliss?”

Asshole. “I’m just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” He shows me this hundred-watt smile and winks at me.

Roll my eyes. “Yeah, and stalkers should rot in jail.”

I can hear him gasp and hold a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “Are you implying that I am a stalker?”

Yes, I am. “Let’s see, shall we? Tracking and following closely behind me without my knowledge. Stalking me.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me. “Watching out for you.”

And suddenly, all the joking is gone. “I don’t need you to.”

He’s quiet for a while. I think I came out more curtly than I wanted. “Fine,” he says softly, “I’m sorry, Liz. Don’t be angry.” There’s another stretch of silence. We just stand there. And although I don’t want it to, it just comes out of my mouth.

“So … where’s Pam?”

I’d expect him to get all defensive. But he doesn’t. He smiles. “How would I know?”

And I can’t stop the comment from coming out. “I figured you’d keep her close by, you know. Quick lap dances every now and then.”

Again the awkward silence. I don’t look at him, but I know he’s staring at me. “What can I do to convince you that I’m not interested in Pam?”

“What would it matter to me who you are interested in?” Again, it just came out. It’s strange. When I talk to him, I don’t think over what I say to him. I don’t censor it. It all just comes out.

“It doesn’t matter to you?” he’s talking softly again.

I shake my head. “No.”

And he smiles. It’s not a full-blown smile though. It’s one of those tight-lipped smiles. They’re not as nice. “Then why do you keep bringing it up?”

Sigh. “Because I can.”

“But it doesn’t matter to you?” Why would it matter? Why would it affect me? So he’s with Pam, like I care.

Shake my head again. “No.”

“Okay, just making sure.” He smiles that not-as-nice smile again.

And the silence ensues. I stand their awkwardly, arms crossed over my chest, staring at my feet, until I hear him talk again.

“Is there anything you want to talk about, Liz?” I lift my head to look at him and his eyes are staring right at me. He has a soft smile on his face. You know, like he’s asking for something, but he isn’t pushing it.

“I don’t know,” I say slowly and start tugging at my sweater, pulling the sleeves lower.

“Because you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” He takes a step closer and I try my best to resist from taking a step back, but I can’t help it.

“Anything?” Smile big and lift my eyebrows suggestively, trying to keep the mood light. Because we do that. We banter. Because he knows that I know that he doesn’t really like me. Because he knows that I know that it’s just a game. Because he’s a pretty boy. So I keep the mood light.

But I get the feeling that what he is referring to is anything but light. “Anything.”

“Okay.” Nod my head with a smile. “There is something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

“Yeah?” He’s smiling softly, leans in closer, and I take another step back, tugging again at my sleeves.

“You are an egotistical, arrogant, stuck-up pig.” And I manage to say it all with a straight face.

While he just stares at me, unfazed. “Is that all?”

“All that I can think of off the top of my head? Yes.” And with the way he’s still looking at me, I take another step back, only to back into a locker.

Max finally looks away and I see him sigh. “Okay. Anything else you’d like to discuss? Anything else you wanted to talk about? I’m here to listen, Liz.”

Smile big and shake my head. “That’s it.”

“You sure?” Again, he asks with that look, staring at me.

Nod my head. “Yes.”

I guess Max kind of gives up after that. He kind of half sighs, half groans, running his hand through his hair. And then he looks at me again. “Then could you remind me why you brought me out here?”

And my mind goes blank. I seemed to have forgotten why, myself. I brought him out here because I was frustrated, and I needed to vent, and …“To tell you to stop lying for me.”

“I was just helping you out, Liz.” He sounds tired. Not like before. Before he sounded calmer. It’s like he was putting up with me before. And it seems like he’s giving up on me now. And it’s okay for him to give up on me, because I wasn’t his problem to begin with. He shouldn’t have to deal with me. No one should have to deal with me. I shouldn’t have to deal with me.

“I don’t want you to help me.” I flinch at my own voice. Seems the anger has returned.

“So you want to get in trouble?”

“Yes …” wait … that’s not right. “No …”

“Because if you want to be rebellious, I can help you with that too, Liz. We can go right now and throw a stink bomb in the guy’s locker room.”

Is he being serious? I don’t think so. I think he’s making fun of me. “No.”

“We can go stop by the art room, grab some paint and paint someone’s car.”

“Stop it, Max.” It isn’t funny. I’m already in a bad mood and he’s poking more fun.

“We can handcuff Doug and Pam together on a picnic table in the quad.”

And there’s a small pause as I consider this. I mean, it could be interesting. We could paint Pam’s face … and cameras … sigh … “We can’t, Max.” I shake my head, but there’s a smile on my face now.

And he’s smiling again too. The nice kind of smile. “Sure we can. Or, you know, we can just get some eraser room time, make it loud and get caught.” His eyebrows go up and down.

“Some what?” Eraser room time. Time for a room of erasers? What?

“You’ve never been to the eraser room?”

“What’s that?” A room of erasers, apparently. See my super-duper deducing powers at work?

“I have to take you there.” He smiles this smile that tells me that he knows something that I don’t. I watch him look at his watch. I look at mine too. The bell is going to ring in a little while. “What do you have next period?”

“Umm … calculus.” The fact that I had to think for the answer, shows how mixed up my mind is right now.

“Do you really want to go?” He has this look in his eye. The mischievous glint. The kind that you want to give in to … but can’t.

“I can’t miss class.”

“So, no eraser room time?” He frowns a bit. And I feel a bit disappointed at myself too.

“No, I suppose not. Maybe you can show me some other time, Max.”

The smile returns to his face again. “Can we at least tie Pam and Doug to a picnic bench? All in good fun, of course.”

And I laugh. “No, Max. I … um … I … no. I should go.” I smile shyly at him and turn to walk away.

“Liz?”

I spin back around. “Hmm?”

“Anytime you want to talk to me, I’m here.” And the fact that he’s repeated that over and over and over again finally gets to me.

I look up at Max, eyeing him while I cross my arms over my chest, tugging on my sleeves, panic starting to set in. “Do you know something, Max?”

“Just if you need to talk … about anything, Liz.” He’s giving me that look again.

Oh, God. He knows. He knows. He probably saw. “It’s not as bad as it looks, Max.”

He leans in closer to me. “Liz, f you need to talk …”

“No, how do you know?” When did he see it? Did he tell anyone else?

“Is it bad that I know?” He’s still looking down at me with that look.

And I look back up at him, nodding my head. “Yes. How?”

“Alex told me … about the letter … from your dad. And the whole thing in the mall yesterday was ...” Wait … the mall, the letter. Max knows, but what does he know? That’s it. Smile. He doesn’t know more than that. He doesn’t know the rest. And it’s okay. I’m still sane. No one knows. I tune in back in time to hear Max continuing on. “… It’s not healthy for you to hold all this in. So … if you need to talk …”

“Thanks, Max. But I’m fine. Great. Better than ever. I’ll see you around.” Big smile, pat him on the back, spin on my heel and walk away. He doesn’t know. No one knows. And I plan on keeping it that way.



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 10:13 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
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Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Fourteen:
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Believe it or not, the day actually got even more interesting. Life isn’t just all books and studying with little Lizzie. No siree. From Alex’s questioning interrogation of why I was late to school to Max’s disappearance, or rather non-appearance, to English class third period, I had plenty to think about to get my mind off of things.

Yup, like right now, I’m standing in front of the vending machine, getting my nifty little water bottle, and going over the options of where to sit in my head. Doesn’t this kind of remind you of my first day here? I thought so too.

So … I can go sit with Maria and Michael, but then I’m still mad at them, both of them. When I hold a grudge, I hold a grudge. But I can choose to go sit with them and start yelling their heads off for leaving me in the mall to have to deal with schizo-boy and poodle-person all by myself, but that’s not something that little Lizzie would do, now is it? No. Little Lizzie doesn’t blow up at people. Little Lizzie sits quietly and plays nice with the other children.

I could go sit with Max, but hey, Max wasn’t in class, so what are the chances of him being at lunch? He probably left to go spend some eraser room time with his new flavor of the week, leaving Pam pouting in class. Oh, and by the way, Alex informed me of what the infamous eraser room is. It’s where people make-out. And Alex has also informed me that I am, in no way, allowed to go inside, or anywhere near the place.

I kind of ignored him though. It was just Alex pulling out his protective brother card again. I sometimes wonder how badly he is going to take it when he finds out that I’m moving yet again. Sigh. All I know is I am definitely not going to be the one to break it to him. Maybe he’ll figure it out once I’m gone and all of my things are missing from the room. Maybe …

Sigh. Enter the quad and look around. Take a glance at Max’s tree. It’s unoccupied. Glance over at my normal spot and Michael is sitting with his sketchbook, Maria with her bag of cheese puffs, and Isabel with nail polish in her hand. Hold the phone. Well, fuck a duck. Isabel is sitting with them now. It seems I’ve been replaced. Well, isn’t that great? Peachy. Just peachy. But you know what? I don’t care. Screw them. Who needs friends who ditch you, anyway? And who is to say they were my friends to begin with? I know Michael definitely wouldn’t.

Whatever. I don’t care. With my little nifty bottle in hand, walk over to the center of the quad and sit down at the empty tree. Why? Because it was the only tree that was unoccupied. That’s why. But I think I could hear a collective gasp as I sat down on the ground. So what if I sat at Max’s tree? It’s not the first time. It’s probably the first time anyone sat here without Max also being present. But I don’t care. This is the ‘tree of knowledge’ and I am in need of some thinking time. So I lean back, close my eyes and gather my thoughts.

My mind is just so bogged down with problems that I can’t think straight. So how do you get rid of problems? You solve them. But there are too many problems to solve all at once. That’s why you start out with the little ones and work your way up. See? Problem solved. Logic, logic, logic.

All right. State the problem: I’m angry with Maria. Solution: stop talking to her. Problem solved. Simple enough. Another problem. The letter. No. Let’s skip that one. Little problems first. Alex. There’s nothing wrong with Alex. Moving on. Sean. What is up with Sean? There’s probably some kind of power feud going on between Max and Sean, just like with Doug. There’s nothing for me to concern myself with there. Which brings up Doug. Doug is safe. Doug is dependable. Doug is always freaking there. But do I like Doug the way I like Max? Wait … do I like Max?

“Liz?”

Open my eyes and Max is right in front of me, sitting and staring at me, while fidgeting.

“I … I didn’t want to disturb you, but I figured if you wanted to talk, then we should … talk.” He smiles but it’s one of those unsure kind of smiles that are only kind of like a grin.

Sigh. How is it that he’s been able to pop up without me even noticing lately? “How long have you been sitting here, Max?”

He shrugs. “Ten or so minutes.”

Ten or so minutes? I’ve been talking to myself for that long?

“Liz?” he interrupts my thoughts again. “Did you want to talk?”

Shake my head. “No.”

“Then why are you sitting at my tree?” He isn’t annoyed or anything. But I don’t know what he is. It’s hard to read the look he has on his face. It’s just that look. You know the look. The weird look.

And I, not knowing what better to say, change the subject. “Why weren’t you in English?”

“I was … um … busy.” Stuttering, fidgeting, and nervously running his hand through his hair. He’s hiding something.

And I don’t have to put up with it. Because I have enough problems to deal with. I don’t need him to add to it. Right? “Right. I’ll leave now.” Grab my bag and go to stand up.

“Liz …” I feel him grab my wrist and I freeze, just staring down at it. Oh God. He’s gripping my wrist and it stings. Even through my sweater sleeve, it stings. Sit back down so that he’ll let go of my wrist and cross my arms over my chest.

“Are you okay?” his voice is still soft and he’s speaking gently. He’s still trying to put up with me. Again, I’m not his problem to put up with.

So I get a tad bit more curt than I want to be. “I’m fine, Max.”

“No, really, Liz,” he pulls my hands into his and leans forward, giving me that look again, “are you okay?”

Pull hands back, scooting away, and eyeing him curiously. I think he knows more than he’s letting on. And that’s not good. That’s never good. “What are you talking about?”

“Liz, look …” again with the stuttering. “I know-”

“Hi, Isabel.” I smile sweetly at her as she comes to standing beside us. What else am I going to do? Believe it or not, I’m actually glad to see her. I get the feeling that, what ever this talk was between Max and I, was just about to get out of hand.

And she smiles back. “Hello, Liz. Um … Max. I just …” and she drops to her knees in front of him and her arms go around his neck. Well, it looks like Isabel is his new toy for the week or month or however long she keeps his fancy. I mean, who wouldn’t get tired of Pam? “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you so much for last night. I just … God …” And she sniffs. Is she crying? Yes, she is. Was he really that good? “Thank you.” She’s kissing him now, well, his cheek, but it will progress soon enough. And so, yes, I am turning my head away. Don’t you just hate feeling like a third wheel? It’s sickening. Not as sickening as with Pam, but still sickening, nonetheless.

I’m just gathering my bag up again now while I hear him still talking to her. “You’re welcome, Isabel. Anytime …” Oh really now, lover boy? I wonder how suave he really is. I mean, if every girl in the whole town wants to jump his bones, the guy has really got to be …

And Max is staring at me, Isabel gone. He’s going to try to explain now. “That was just-”

“Yeah.” I don’t want to hear it. “I gotta go.” Stand up and this time I make sure to stay out of his reach.

“Liz.” I look into his eyes and he has this … pleading look. Sorry, Max. But my life is already complicated as it is. I don’t have time for you. I wonder if he looks at Isabel this way too.

“I’ll see you later, Max.” Turn and walk away. But I can hear him calling after me.

“But I need to talk to you.”

“Later, Max.” I don’t turn back to look at him. I just keep walking away.



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I don’t think it helped much that I had the next period with Max. I was actually considering ditching, just so I wouldn’t have to talk to him. Max knows. And even though he doesn’t know the thing, he knows something. And that much is already more than I want him to know about me. But the class goes by relatively okay. I just keep my gaze to the front of the room, ignoring his stares, even though I could feel them on me.

And class goes on. Mr. Singer calls roll and then hands out packets for yet another lab. It isn’t a big deal though, just a small lab on equilibrium. We probably won’t even have to do a write up for it. But, a lab is a lab and I, being the good little student that I am, must do it, while Michael and Tess sit, each with their sketchbook and magazine, respectively.

Gather my things from the cabinets and while I’m there, I stop. My eyes involuntarily glance quickly over at Max’s corner of the room. He’s setting up for the lab too, half of his table set aside, ready and waiting for me.

Sigh. But do I go over there? No. I stay right where I am, working on my little one-third of the table that is mine to work on. Rush through the lab, not even caring or checking if I did it right. Coach Singer doesn’t care anyway. And I finish and put up my supplies in time with ten minutes to spare. So I sit there.

“So … Tess …”

She looks up from her magazine. “Yeah, Liz?”

And it looks like I can help get one problem solved. “So … what’s with you and Sean?”

“What about me and Sean?” She’s looking at me curiously. Does she not get what I am implying?

“Are y’all going out or something?” Lift eyebrows and await answer.

“Oh God, no!” she practically screams. “Where would you get something like that?”

“It’s just … Max has mentioned your name with his a few times and I was just … curious.” Curiosity killed the cat, Lizzie. That’s all right, I’m already dead.

“Why? Has Sean done anything to you?” She’s leaning forward and whispering to me.

Sean? Done something to me? “No. No. He hasn’t been mean or … suggestive like he was before. He’s just … weird.” His butterfly transformation thingy is just strange.

“Weird how?” She’s still leaning forward, and still whispering.

Well, Sean’s always been weird, but it’s strange now because …“He’s nice. Clean cut, kind of.”

And Tess smiles, sitting back. “I do a good job, don’t I?”

“Do what?” What? Did she like, take the boy shopping or something? Brainwash him by tying him to a chair and forcing him watch hours and hours of ‘Leave It To Beaver’ marathons?

“Liz,” the voice interrupts us, coming from behind. But I don’t turn around. Nope. That would be confronting the problem. And I’m too much of a coward to do that. Wait … since when was Max my problem? God knows I’m not his.

And if I don’t acknowledge him, then he’ll just go away. Because I doubt he’ll start talking about things in front of Michael and Tess, and I am sure as hell not going to be leaving this table.

I look at Tess, but she’s looking past me, as is Michael. And they both grab their things and stand up, leaving me at the table, alone until he comes and takes the seat next to me.

Sigh. “Yes, Max?”

“I need to talk to you,” he’s whispering to me in that voice again. And I bet if I look up, he’s also giving me that look again too.

I refuse to have to put up with it. At least, not today. “Later, Max.”

But he starts anyway. “Liz, look. There are these …”

And I pretty much ignore him as I chant my mantra. Ring bell, ring. Ring bell, ring. And … the … bell … RINGS.

Smile. “Later, Max.” Sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the door. Check the top of my head just in case and find … safety goggles. Groan. At least I remembered to check this time. Go to the back and put them up in the cabinet and I hear the door to the classroom squeaking … shut.

And I’m thinking ‘shit’. Turn around, and the room is empty, except for Max, who is standing by the door, his hand on the doorknob.

Walk over there with a sigh. This boy is so close to getting slapped. He’s way overstepping the line of duty here with all of his reciprocated stubbornness to my stubbornness. Does that make any sense? “I need to get to class, Max.”

“But I need to talk to you,” again with the soft pleading tone. I won’t look at him though. Because once you look into his eyes, you’re a goner. I would know.

Sigh and reach for the door. “I can’t be late for class.”

“I’ll vouch for you.”

Stop. Turn and look at him. Well, at his neck, or his chest, his perfect chest. Anything but his eyes. “How?”

He walks over to Mr. Singer’s desk and pulls out this pad of paper, taking out a pen and scribbling on it. I know that this is my chance. I should leave, right now. I should, but I’m curious. Curiosity killed the cat, if you didn’t know that already. He walks back over, handing me a small slip of paper. “Here.”

I look at it. A nicely forged pass excusing me for my tardiness from ‘The Desk of Singer.’ Well, I have to admit, he does a good job. Look up at him … his shoulder anyway. “This could get you in trouble.”

His shoulder shrugs. “It could.”

“It could get me in trouble too.” I find myself folding it up and sticking it in my pocket anyway. It can come in handy later.

“I won’t let that happen. I’ll take sole blame.” He says it as though it were just that simple.

“It takes two, Max.” And it suddenly feels as though we’re discussing something deeper with a cryptic message. And it sucks, because I’m the one that’s starting it.

There’s silence and my head is screaming at me to head out the door, but something keeps me in place. I’m waiting, because what he says next might just make all the difference in the world. Why? I have no freaking clue.

“I’m here, Liz.”

And I, actually, don’t know what to say, because it’s awkward. I always make things awkward. What does he mean, he’s here? What do you say to that? What do you say when things are awkward? You try to joke about it. “You like being in control, don’t you?” I smile.

But he’s not smiling. He’s serious. “As opposed to not being in control? Yes.”

“And what if I don’t want you controlling me?” I’m not smiling either. I think I’m serious too. Really.

“I’m not controlling you.”

Stare at the door. I should be heading out of it soon, very soon.

“Everything you do is your own choice.” A pause and his voice gets softer. “But sometimes you can’t see clearly and you make a not so good decision. And you need to talk about it, and see what can be done to make it better … before it gets worse.”

And I’m at the door, turning the knob, walking away from this, because I get the feeling he’s leading to something … something that I don’t want to talk about. Freaking. Twist, turn, push, turn, kick. Freaking. “Why won’t the door open?”

He shrugs. “It’s locked.”

Wait ... Locked? “Are you telling me we’re stuck in here?”

Again, he shrugs. “I can unlock it.”

“Unlock it then.” Step aside and let him do his thing.

But he just stands there, arms crossed. “Not until we talk.”

And I’m panicking, fidgeting even. Why? Because I’m trapped. And I don’t want to be. Not now. Not here. And not with him. “I have to get to class, Max. We’ll talk later.”

“It is later.” He pulls a stool down, sitting on it, and pulls another one down, motioning for me to sit on it.

And I stand there, arms crossed, staring at the ground. “Please, can’t it wait? Please?” I know my voice is weak. I know I’m pleading and sound frail. But what else am I going to do? I’m trapped.

And I’m waiting for him to open the door, because that’s what all other guys do. When they see you helpless and pathetic like this, they feel bad and they let you have your way. All guys. Max is a guy. At least, I think he is. So Max shouldn’t be an exception. Or, at least, you’d think he shouldn’t be. “No, it can’t wait. It’s only going to get worse.”

Bite my lip. Sigh. Deep breath. But the way he’s talking to me, the sad look in his eyes, and I give in. I always do. Puppy-dog eyes. Freaking bastard. “What did you want to talk to me about, Max?”

I don’t sit down though, not when the stool is so close to him. If I sit there, we’d be sitting knee to knee. Physical contact isn’t at the top of my list at the moment. So I just stand where I am. I look at him. And he’s smiling at me. “What?”

He laughs. “I was so focused on getting you to talk to me. And now that you will, I don’t know where to start.”

His pressuring me to talk to him earlier this morning and earlier in the quad comes back to me. “This is like a set-up. You planned on locking me in here.”

And he’s still smiling. Apparently he’s pleased at himself with his plan. Cocky-assed bastard. “Yeah. Only if you didn’t talk to me earlier though. And I figured you wouldn’t.”

Nod my head. He’s right, I wouldn’t. But now he has me trapped and locked in a room. “And since this is Singer’s conference period, what better place. Right?”

He shrugs. “Hey, it was either this or the eraser room. And I didn’t think we’d get too much talking done in there.” He does that eyebrow thing and smirks at me and I just … don’t want to be here right now.

I try the door again, but still, no luck. How the hell do you open this? Jiggle the knob, turn, push, kick. And there’s breathing on my neck, muscular chest rubbing up to my shoulder, and fingers pulling my hand away from the doorknob.

Jerk my hand from his and back away. “What do you want, Max?” Do I look weak and helpless? Because I sound weak and helpless. And I feel weak and helpless.

“Other than the obvious?” he’s whispering and walking towards me.

And I’m cornered. I’m being closed in on. I’m suffocating. And the only way out is to dig my way, even if I have to hit him with the shovel in the process. “You mean Isabel?” Not exactly my choice topic, but hey, it gets him to stop, right? It gets him to back down, and it gives me room to breathe.

“There’s nothing going on between Isabel and I.”

And I smile because he’s getting defensive. It’s a dog eat dog world out there. Better him than me suffocating.

And I remember what happened in the quad. Their little huggy feely moment didn’t look like nothing to me. And her thanking him for last night? Scoff. “Could have fooled me. So … was she good? Did you have fun? Was she all your dreams come true? Better than Pam?”

“Stop it.” His tone is wavering. You know the tone, the weird one that goes with that weird look. The one he has when he’s putting up with me and trying to get through to me. It’s wavering with his added frustration.

And it’s good, because that tone was awkward. And when he doesn’t have that tone, I don’t feel guilty when I get bitter. “Why? You’re the one that slept with her. You shouldn’t feel ashamed about it now. You might hurt Isabel’s feelings.”

His voice raises and I try to not feel cagey, but it’s hard not to. Max is scary when he’s angry. “What would it matter to you if I slept with her or not? What? Are you jealous?”

Me? Jealous? Hardly. Freaking bastard. Why would I be jealous of Isabel? What does she have that I don’t? A short skirt? I’d rather have a brain than be a member of the blonde pom-pom squad. But I guess Max doesn’t agree. “Unlock the door and let me out.”

Pause. Silence. And his voice gets that tone again, the concerned one. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But nothing happened between Isabel and I. Her dad had some trouble yesterday. Michael called me over and I went to help.”

“That’s what the whole hugging thing in the quad was about?” Lift my eyebrows. Does he get it that I don’t believe him?

Apparently not. “Yes. She was just showing her gratitude towards me for helping her father.”

Oh really? “And how much gratitude did she show you last night?”

Pause. Silence. And then there’s this loud groaning sound. It came from Max. It scared me. “Stop it, Liz! I don’t get you. You’re scared to be around people so I back off just to find you going around with Doug. Yesterday you were bawling your eyes out and today it’s like nothing happened. You say you don’t care and yet you’re getting jealous?”

“You’re one to talk.” And I am angry too. Grr …

“What?” He looks at me dumbfoundedly. Yes, dumbfoundedly. As if he wasn’t aware of all this crap he’s been doing. As if he didn’t know. And I … blow up.

“The whole you and Doug macho man competitiveness thing you’ve got going on. What is it with you two? Doug says your jeep is rusty and you go out and get yourself a nice and shiny car the next day? You-”

“We’re talking about you and me here, not Doug,” he interrupts me. And it’s funny, because he’s the one that brought Doug into this, if I’m not mistaken. And I’m not. So excuse me if I’m hostile.

“There’s a ‘you-and-me’?” Mock gasp. “Since when was there ever a ‘you-and-me’?”

There’s a slight pause and then his voice rises even more. “Well, I wouldn’t know now, would I? Since you keep pushing me away.”

I have to laugh. And in my anger, I forget to keep it light. I forget that this is just a game. I forget all about pretty boys and plain girls not adding up. “I push you away? Are you kidding me? Who was the one that kissed who out in the hallway and then turned around and shrugged, saying that it was just a stupid kiss?”

“I never said it was stupid or that it was just a kiss. I said that it was a kiss. At least I acknowledged it. And still, I put out more effort. Of the three times, I kissed you twice. You only kissed me once. And that one was just to get back at Pam.”

And I am quiet as I stand there and stare at him. He’s lost it. Completely lost it.

“What? Nothing to say?” His eyes are still narrowing down on mine with a smirk and I just shake my head.

My voice comes out calmly and evenly at first. Note, at first. Can you guess where my voice starts raising? “Oh, no. Nothing. I just … I only remember there being two. You’re probably-” starts raising here “-mistaking me with Pam or Isabel or one of your other tramps that you run around with.”

“No. There were three.” And it’s sad because he’s so damn sure of himself. So freaking cocky. If he can’t remember this, how is he supposed to remember birthdays or anniversaries? I pity the person who ends up with him. Poor Isabel.

“Two.” Count them. “One against the lockers and the other one in the booth at the Crashdown. No more than that. Not three. Two.” And I would know. Because, unlike him, each one actually meant something to me.

There’s silence as he stares at me and then stands straight again. “Oh … yeah.” What kind of lame reply is that? No ‘I’m sorry, Liz’, or ‘you were right, Liz, I was just being a complete ass’. Just ‘oh’. Freaking bastard.

I am tired of this crap that I don’t need this right now. “Open the door. I want out.”

But he stands there. Yes, stands at the door that he is supposed to be opening, but isn’t. “No, Liz. We didn’t even get to talk.”

“We’ve been talking, Max.” And the bickering ensues.

“Not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Oh great. There’s more. I think his whole plan is to drive me crazy. “Spit it out already.”

I look at him and I am fuming. But he just leans back against the door and sticks his hands in his pocket, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk to you while you’re angry.”

Still fuming. “Well, you’re going to have to take a rain-check then because I don’t plan on cooling it anytime soon.”

Another fucking shrug. I am really getting tired of his shrugs. “I guess we’re stuck here then. I’m not opening the door until we talk.” He walks away from me and I just stand there, arms crossed over my chest, still breathing hard.

I’m facing the door but I can hear him making noises behind me. Curiosity killed the cat. And I am quite a curious little kitty. Turn around and look at him. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for food.” He goes through another drawer of Singer’s desk. “I’m kind of hungry. I missed lunch.”

Great. He’s hungry and I’m tired. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of arguing with him. I’m tired of everything. But I’m stuck. I’m cornered. And I’m suffocating.

Step over to the table and sit down on the stool, resting my head on the table next to his bag, closing my eyes.

“Score.”

I hear him talking but I don’t look up. Too tired.

“Want some, Liz?” I think he’s still behind Mr. Singer’s desk.

“No.” I just want to be left alone.

“Come on. They’re Girl Scout cookies. No one can resist Girl Scout cookies.”

I think I can hear my tummy rumbling. Lift my head and turn to him. He’s smiling happily while showcasing a box of cookies, stuffing a few in his mouth.

“Oatmeal. Yum.” I look back up and he stuffs a few more into his mouth, licks his fingers, and holds the box out towards me.

My mouth waters, but I sigh, shaking my head. “I prefer thin mint.”

“Gotcha covered.” He picks up another box of cookies and walks around the desk and over towards me, smiling. I think he doesn’t like arguing with me just as much as I don’t like arguing with him. Unless you are in the mood to argue, it’s just too tiring.

He hands me the box and sits next to me. Sigh … chocolaty goodness.

I look at him and he’s pulling some kind of canteen out of his bag. It’s one of those little silver ones. A flask. “What’s that?”

He caps it and puts it away. “Oh, nothing … it’s just … um … cookies make my throat dry.”

“Oh.” Right. It’s probably liquor. He’s probably drunk right now.

We eat our cookies until I stop and set mine aside. He follows suit and starts up. “So … are you still angry with me?”

Nod my head. “Yes.” When I hold a grudge, I hold a grudge.

“Keep in mind that I’m not letting you out until we talk.” He reaches for his box of cookies again. “And I’m not talking with you still angry at me.”

Groan. Moan. Sigh. Can I stand being in this room alone with him any longer? “No, I’m not.”

“That’s good.” He rummages through his box.

I grab it from him and set it aside. At this rate, we’ll probably be in here all afternoon. “Talk.”

He takes a deep breath and I think we’re getting into serious mode. Not good. “I’m worried about you, Liz.”

Sigh. “There’s nothing for you to be worried about, Max.”

“I think there is.” He’s giving me that look and that tone again.

Max …” I know I’m whining, but I’m tired. I just want him to stop with all of this.

But he sighs and grabs his bag. For a second, I think he’s giving up on me and is about to let me go. But he doesn’t. He reaches into his bag, pulls something out, and places it gently on the table.

I stare at it, my heart beat quickening. Panic level rising. “What’s that?” I try to sound naïve, as if I didn’t know, but I’m fidgeting. I know I’m fidgeting. He knows I’m fidgeting. It’s not good.

“You know what it is.” And he gives me that look again, the one that begs me not to lie to him, to be honest with him and to trust him.

“H-How did you get it, Max?” The last I remember of it, it was in my room, on the floor somewhere from when I threw it last night.

He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. “That … that’s not the point. The point is, is that, I have it, and I know. And I … I want to help you, Liz. I want to be here for you. You can take out all your anger on me. Hell, you can use me as a punching bag for all I care. Just don’t do this.”

I can’t look him in the eyes anymore, because the look is getting to be too much. So what do I do? I play dumb. “Do what, Max?”

“Hurt yourself.” I know he’s looking at me. The look was probably already enough, but the way he said it, it’s like he’s disappointed with me, disappointed with me for not telling him.

And you know what? It’s not his freaking problem to know about. It’s not his problem to worry over. It’s not his problem to deal with. I’m not his charity case. So he can just drop the whole concerned bit. “I’m not hurting myself, Max. You think I’m stupid enough to do something like that?”

There’s a pause. Yup, it’s evident that I’m still angry with him. “I don’t know, Liz.” He’s talking softly and slowly. So every word sinks into my head. I hate it when every word sinks into my head. It’s harder to pretend that way. “But I know that if you need to talk, I’m here. And I swear, no judging, and no pitying. I’m just going to listen. And maybe be a shoulder to lean on, anytime you need it.” He smiles softly.

He’s trying, at least. I have to give him credit for that. He’s here when most people wouldn’t be. The only problem is, he’s not supposed to be here. I’m not his responsibility. He’s not my mom or my dad. He’s nothing to me. I’m nothing to him. Pretty boy. Plain girl. “That’s sweet, Max. But I don’t need it.”

Reach over for the small knife, but Max beats me to it. He pulls out the blade and places it back on the table. “Then what is this, Liz?”

There’s red. I see red. So what do I do? I play dumb. “What’s what?”

“This.” He runs his finger along the blade. “This is blood.”

And I … bullshit the best I can. “No, it’s not. I used it to cut my burger the other day, and there was ketchup-”

“Liz. I think I know the difference between blood and ketchup. I’m not stupid, you know.” He’s angry. But I would be too if he tried to give me some lame ass excuse like that. “And this is blood, Liz.” His voice gets that tone again, the one he uses to try to get through to me. “It’s your blood.”

And me, being the denial person and all … “No, it’s not.”

“Liz.” He closes his eyes and takes a breath. I think he’s frustrated with me. I think he’s tired. “I know.”

Sigh. He’s not the only one who is tired. And my mouth just opens, and it just comes out. “Okay. Fine. I’ll admit it. I’m a very, very sick and demented person. I just … I couldn’t help myself. There was a pigeon on my roof the other day, and I caught it, and took my knife, and grabbed its wing and starting sawing-”

“Stop giving me this shit! I know, okay?” And I flinch, though I didn’t want to. But I did, because Max yelled at me. Max is angry with me. But he has no right to be. He has no right to keep me trapped here, to keep me suffocating. He says he knows, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be me. He doesn’t know all the pain that I go through. He doesn’t know anything.

“You don’t know jack shit, Max!”

I try to brush past him, to the door, but he grabs my hand, pulling it to him. I try to pull away, but he only grips tighter, making my watch rub into my wrist and making me wince in pain. He gives me a look before he goes back to my wrist and I am scared shitless as I stand there, frozen, praying for him to stop. But does he? No. Everything goes into slow motion. He pulls up my sleeve slowly, slides my watch further down my arm, and little by little, everything comes out. My wrist is bare and I feel exposed, naked for him to see.

“Liz …” I can feel him looking at me, but I’m staring at my wrist, the ugly red line staring right back at me, scorning me. Wrap my other arm around myself, because when you’re naked, the first thing you try to do is cover up what little you can, save what little dignity you have left. And close your eyes and wish it all away, praying that this is all just some kind of bad dream.

Feel pressure on my wrist again and my eyes snap open, gasping in shock and staring at him with his lips brushing over the ugliness, like he was wanting to take away all the pain. He looks back up at me with those eyes of his. That look he has. It makes my knees go weak, my heart start pounding. “Liz, you shouldn’t do this to yourself. You shouldn’t. You’re … You’re so much better than this.”

And I just look at him, blinking a few times before I jerk my hand away from him. “No, I’m not better than this. I’m not! What happened to not judging? God, everyone has me so high on this goddamn pedestal. And I can’t … I can’t keep my balance. I’m hanging on by the tip of my toes. One wrong move and I’m going to fall. Little Lizzie never lost her balance. Little Lizzie never fell. But little Lizzie’s gone, Max. She’s gone. And no matter how much I want to pretend to be her again, I can’t. No matter how much I try to be, I’m not this ideal little miss perfect person that everyone thinks I am. That’s not me.”

“I know that, Liz.”

“Do you? Because no one else does. No one knows me. And no matter how much you think you do, you don’t know me either, Max. No one knows what goes on in this head of mine. Or how fucked-up all my thoughts are. Hell, if they did, they’d be so shocked because, guess what! I’m not perfect! I never was!”

“I never said you were. God, Liz!” He’s raising his voice again. “You’re not even on a pedestal in my mind. If anything, you might be standing on a stack of telephone books maybe, two of them at the most,” he holds up two fingers. And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “And that’s ‘if anything’, Liz! You’re not perfect. I know that. You are far from perfect. Hell, you have more faults than anyone I know!”

And me? I smile at him while he’s telling me all this, trying my best to not give anything away, that I’m indifferent to all that he’s telling me. So that he won’t know. And he won’t see that I’m already crying inside, pulling myself into a ball and detaching myself from all of this. Drifting off again into the depths of my mind, where everything is peachy-keen and everyone is happy.

There’s a pause and I wait while he takes deep breaths to calm himself down. This is the part where he realizes what all he just said and tries to apologize like crazy, trying to make it up to me with flowers and candy and such until I finally forgive him and we become friends again. Then he can go back to trying to ‘save’ me, being all saint-like. I wait and his breathing is even again. He looks at me. And here it comes …

“And the fact is, is that you’re-you’re just … so … you’re selfish, Liz. You’re selfish, and you’re a coward, you’re scared of everything, and you have the lowest self-esteem. And those are only a few of the things I can name off of the top of my head.”

And I am not openly crying. Waterfalls of tears are not coming from my eyes. I just stand there, leaning against the table, staring down at my feet, arms crossed over my chest, closing myself off to stop from outright sobbing. Blocking myself off from everything he’s saying, so that it doesn’t hurt me any more than it already has. ‘I am rubber and you are glue’ and all that shit.

Two shoes come to be right in front of mine. I won’t look up though. I can’t look at him, not when he sees me as this incredibly stupid and retarded being. That’s a laugh. He probably doesn’t even see me as a being. I am dirt. Lower than dirt. I am scum. Not the kind of scum that’s on the bottom of people’s shoes, but the scum on the ground. The kind of scum that is forced to bake in the sun and turn all black. Scum. Damn it, I’m thinking of gum. Shit. Of course he thinks I’m stupid. Because I am.

“But, Liz,” his voice is soft. I didn’t expect that, not after him saying all those harsh words. They may have been harsh, but they were true, the little voice in my head starts telling me. This is how he sees you. This is what you are to him and to everyone else, this worthless and pathetic person. Hands come into view and fingers are brushing over my cheeks, wiping at invisible tears. He knows. He knows I’m sobbing inside, that I’m just putting up this ‘tough guy’ front, pretending that his words didn’t hurt, when in actuality, each and every word nicked at me, cutting to the bone. He knows … damn him.

The hand leaves my cheek and I feel it on my waist, pulling me from the table and closer to him. “All of this about you, I see, but not the way you do. Unlike you, I love every one of your faults …” the other hand goes up and my hair gets tucked behind my ear, “… every imperfection … everything, because they are what makes you … you. And I love everything about you, Liz. I love it when you smile, when you laugh, when you … growl.” He’s snickering at me. At me. Snickering at my peculiarities.

“And I love to hear you talk about the oddest things.” Again, he’s laughing at me. Why does he keep laughing at me? Is my pathetic life that amusing to him for him to laugh at me? “And how you like to sit back and look at things … and just … I love how beautiful you are. I love everything about you, Liz … and … I love you.”

Bring my hand up to untuck my hair, letting it fall and veil around my face, so that he won’t see. He won’t see the tears fall. And if he can’t see them, he can’t laugh at them. He can’t list them as another one of my flaws. He’s already listed so many of them for me to hear, as if I didn’t know them by now. As if I didn’t know that I was a self-centered brat who no one wants. I know that. I’m reminded of that every fucking day.

“Liz …”

What? Is he going to go through listing more of my faults? God, does he think I want to hear more of them? That I don’t already know them?

“Fuck off, Evans.” Shove him aside with everything I have and rush for the door. Grip the knob and jerk at it. Turn, push, kick. Why won’t it open? Please, to God, open. Twist, turn, shove. And it comes ajar with me falling to the ground. Scramble to my feet and rush forward. Down the hall and down the stairs, wiping at tears. Away from the hurt, and away from him.



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 11:07 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
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Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Fifteen:
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I am a machine. You know how after you go through this really, really huge nerve wrecking thing, and you kind of just lose it? And you kind of just detach yourself from your body, and you kind of just go through motions? It’s what I like to call robot-mode. Robots don’t have brains. Robots don’t have hearts either. And I am a heartless and brainless person. I am a robot. I am the Tin-Man. You know, from the Wizard of Oz? ‘If I only had a brain’. Okay, so that was actually the Scarecrow, but I don’t remember if the Tin-Man had a little song or not.

Anyhow, it’s not like every robot doesn’t have a heart. Just look at R2D2. He’s not a cold metallic killing machine. No. But the Tin-Man lacked a heart. So that means that whatever freaking Frankenstein who created him didn’t give him a heart. So whoever created me didn’t give me a heart either. My parents didn’t give me a heart.

Gasp. What horrible child would say something like that about her parents? Yes, I do realize that I am going straight to the fiery depths of hell. It’s where I belong. But that’s just how life is. It’s easier to deal with problems if you can lay the blame on others. And parents are an easy target. Them, and Mr. Let’s-lock-Liz-in-a-room-and-yell-at-her-confusing-her-with-emotions-and-thoughts-galore. After all, it’s funny watching Liz and seeing what crazy things she’ll do next. Yesterday she cut herself, today she might hang herself.

No. Suicide’s no good. If that’s one good thing I’ve ever learned. You’re no good to anyone dead. Mom’s dead and that’s it. Dad’s not dead. Dad’s in jail. Since Dad’s not dead, he can still screw with my head by sending me letters and shit that I am too scared to open.

I’m scared. I’ll admit that, but I don’t know why I’m scared. Is it because it might add to my problems, creating more turns, more spins, more 360’s? How many times can you spin around and still be able to see? How many times is it still possible for you to stay standing? How many times until you lose your footing and fall? Because I, for some freaked up reason, think that my last spin passed without my realizing it. I fell from my space without knowing. And now I don’t know if I can pick myself up. At least, not without a little help.

Ring. Ring.

Sigh. Walk through the ‘Employees Only’ door and pick up the phone.

“Crashdown Café.” And you know what I hear? Breathing. No talking, just breathing. “Hello?” More breathing. But then I stop hearing that too. “Hello?”

Click. Great. It was probably a wrong number. Or maybe it was an alien trying to make contact with me, but can only communicate through the sounds of heavy breathing. Wouldn’t that just add to my day?

Slowly head back toward the counter. Drop down in a stool and start spinning. The diner’s pretty much empty today. No customers, with only me and Maria working, which is just me sitting and spinning on a stool while Maria stays behind the counter, reading a magazine.

I’ve been ignoring her all afternoon. Can you guess why? I hold a grudge well, don’t I? But it’s not like she’s making an effort to see why I’m ignoring her. Which is fine with me, you know? It’s not like I enjoy talking or anything. As a matter of fact, I don’t. I dislike it. Talking is highly overrated. Sigh. This is me, sour grapes and all.

Close my eyes and spin. Spin, spin, spin. And when I open my eyes, I’m facing the booth, his booth. He didn’t come today like he normally does, most day. And I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or relieved. God, why is it that when I think of him my mind just gets so … grrr … He’s so confusing and complicated and frustrating and …

And I think I’m falling for him. What am I saying? That can’t be right.

Groan and mumble. Why is life so confusing?

You should be able to just shut everything out. Everything. And just close your eyes and spin. Spin until your head hurts and you can’t see straight. And just keep spinning some more.

So that’s what I do. I spin in my stool. And all of my thoughts just scramble together. And my worries just mush into the farthest corner of my mind. And I spin. Spin, spin, spin.

Spin until my brain starts feeling light-headed and I start to hear the liquids swishing around in my stomach. And spin until my stool catches onto something, and I go flying.

“Ahh …”

Fingers grip around my arms and I’m left standing.

“I didn’t mean to make you fall. Let’s go.”

My eyes finally focus and I see his back, walking away from me. Go? Go where? With him? Is he crazy? “I’m busy, Max.”

“Look, Liz. We’ve got to go.” And the defiant way he stands there, the way his jaw is set, the way he’s narrowing his eyes at me, and the way he’s looking at me as though I’m supposed to follow obediently, like a puppy, without question, it all just sets me off.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

He starts doing that thing that he does when he’s mad, grinding his jaw and just staring me down. “Look, I’m not going to argue with you right now. Just … do as I say, Liz.”

“What?” How was that remark any better than his last? “I don’t know where you get off trying to tell me what to do. But I don’t just take orders, Max.” Except when I’m waitressing. I take orders then.

He starts doing his irritated look again with the arm crossed and the glaring. “Whatever problem it is you have with me, put it aside. This isn’t about me. This is about Alex.”

Alex? Wait … “What?”

“Alex is hurt,” he says it in a way as if I should have known. As if everyone in the whole world already knew.

Well, obviously, I didn’t know. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?”

“I don’t know, Max. Picking daisies?” Grr …

I think I see steam coming out of his nostrils. “Let’s just go.”

“Fine.” Huff and follow him out the door. “Where are we going?”

“Hospital.”

He’s already jumped into his jeep and I’m barely in before he guns the engine and takes off.



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I don’t have my seatbelt on. Normally, it’s the first thing I do, put on my seatbelt. But I don’t. Why? Because it’d be awfully difficult to have my seatbelt on with how I’m sitting, with my back to the door, my legs drawn up, and the rest of me facing him.

Why am I sitting here, staring at him? Because I’m angry with him. And he’s angry with me. And that look he has on with the mixture of frustration, hurt, annoyance, irritation, and whatever else he’s feeling, adding to that brooding look of his, makes him look oh-so sexy. Wait … did I just say that?

“Stop looking at me.” Wow. After we’ve been riding in silence, he finally speaks.

“Why?” Do I make you nervous?

“Why are you looking at me?”

“Why can’t I look at you? I thought you’d be used to the staring, what with all the ‘special’ attention you get from the tight shirts and short skirts. Namely, Pam. Oh, wait. We’ve moved on to Isabel now, haven’t we?”

“Why do you get so jealous for?” He’s shaking his head at me. And I am scolding myself too. Why do I get so jealous? Why am I sitting here, getting angry with him for? He didn’t do anything wrong. Isabel is gorgeous. Who wouldn’t want to be with her?

That creepy silence comes over us again. And all you can hear is the car engine going vroom. That’s it.

Max shifts gears and I look down at his hand. His knuckles are all scraped, blood caking to them. What happened to him? Look up at his face and I just now notice that there’s sand in his hair, dirt on his forehead, scratches on his cheek.

“Max?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look at me. He keeps his eyes on the road.

“What happened?” Touch his hand, tracing my fingers along his knuckles. His grip tightens so I look up at him. “That’s blood.”

“No, it’s ketchup.” I look at him for a good second before I turn around and sit correctly in my seat, my side to the door and facing out to the road. He’s mocking me. Sure. I agree that the excuse that I gave him in the chemistry room was lame, but there’s no reason for him to throw it back at me.

“Sorry.”

Sit there shocked. Wait … do my ears deceive me? Was that an apology? Yes, it was, Liz. And he meant it genuinely. Damn you, conscience of mine. Sigh. “I’m sorry too, Max, for getting angry at you and for what happened earlier today.”

“Yeah? So am I.”

I choose to ignore the curtness and the sarcasm in his voice and move on. “So what happened?” And I ask the question I’ve been dreading. “How badly hurt is Alex?”

“It’s nothing too serious. Nothing for you to worry about.”

Nod my head and continue. “Was it a car accident or what?” Alex is a good driver. He’s a safe driver. It’s all those other crazy, boozed up teenagers I’m worried about.

“No. No, cars. There was just a group of guys and-”

“What?” I cut him off and glance over at him. “Was there like a fight or something?”

Pause. “I guess you could call it that.”

And before I can ask him what he meant by that, he turns off the engine and gets out.



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“Mr. and Mrs. Whitman,” Max calls out immediately when he walks into the waiting room with me following shortly behind him. “I brought her.”

“Liz. I’m so glad you’re here. It’s so terrible.” Both come in and hug me. I feel uncomfortable, but manage by giving them each a pat on the back before pulling away. At least I know where Alex gets his touchy-feely-ness from.

I look at them both. Mrs. Whitman is a wreck, but Mr. Whitman is pulling her through. It must be nice to have someone to lean on. Not that I’d know. “Can I see him?”

“Of course. Third room on the right.” Mr. Whitman points down the hall. “But don’t wake him. He needs his rest.”

“Okay. I won’t.” I offer them a reassuring smile and walk on down the hall. Max is already standing at the doorway. He doesn’t walk in though.

And I kind of just stand there next to him, trying to calm myself down. Have I ever told you that I don’t like hospitals? The whiteness of the rooms gets to me. The small confined spaces make me claustrophobic.

There’s a hand on my shoulder. “Do you want me to go in with you?”

“Yes.” I don’t look at him. I just bring my hand up and grip his arm, letting him lead me in. And as we enter the room, all I see is white. Whiteness until my eyes land on Alex. His pale form laying there, his arm in a cast, scrapes and bruises on his skin, hooked up to machines. He looks so … “Oh God …” I don’t think I can take this. I can’t … breathe.

“Come on, Liz.” Arms go around me. “Let’s go.” And I’m being carried away.

When I feel the ground beneath me again, I look up at him. “Nothing serious? God, Max. Who would do that? Who would do that to Alex? Alex is a great guy. He’s so super-nice to everyone. Who would-”

“Don’t pry, Liz.”

Is he kidding me? “Don’t pry? Don’t pry? How can I not? This is Alex. What happens to him matters to me.”

“Don’t worry about it, Liz.” He’s gripping my shoulders now. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sorry, Max.” Shrug his hands off. “But you aren’t exactly at the top of my list of favorite people right now. So tell me what happened.”

“No.”

My hands ball up at my sides and I stare at him. “Who hurt Alex?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not telling you. It’s not like you’re going to believe me if I did, anyway.”

Not believe you? Why wouldn’t I? “Try me.”

“Doug.”

Stare. “What?”

“Doug. All right? Shellow did it.”

Again, stare. “You’re right. I don’t believe you. Doug wouldn’t …” He’s too … nice. Besides, “He doesn’t have anything against Alex.”

“See? I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” He’s got somewhat of a smile on his face and I don’t see anything funny about the situation for him to be smiling.

“I just … I don’t see why Doug would do this. Unless …” Oh, idea. You can just see the light bulb appear over my head, “You and Doug got into a fight over your male macho shit and Alex came in to help you and got hurt in the process. So this is all your fault.”

“What?” He looks shocked, but between the startled defensive look, there’s guilt in his eyes. And yet he’s still putting up this front.

Look at him, just trying to play innocent. “It’s your fault Alex is hurt.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me … I wasn’t the only one involved, okay?”

Oh really? “Who else was in this little fight of yours?”

“It wasn’t my fight. And it wasn’t really a fight either.”

He’s struggling with his words. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. “Then what was it?”

“It was more like a … game.”

A game? “A game? What? Like wrestle mania? First one to knock the other unconscious wins?” Can he tell that I’m not buying this?

“No. It’s more like … Look, I don’t have to explain this to you.” He shakes his head and then leans back against the wall, huffing.

“All right. Fine.” If he won’t tell me, I’ll go to someone who will. “I’ll just get what I want to know from Doug.”

Storm off down the hall, past a few rooms, past a coke machine and a water fountain, and stop. Spin on my heel and storm back. Damn him. Damn him to hell. “You’re not going to stop me?”

He lifts his head up slowly to look at me with raised eyebrows. “Am I supposed to?”

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Deep breath and start away. “Never mind.”

I’m grabbed by the elbow and pulled back, facing him. “Do you want me to?”

The way he’s staring straight into my eyes, and looking at me, like he’s seeing right into me, through all my walls, sweaters, band-aids. Through it all and seeing me. It’s scary. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Liz.”

His eyes kind of shift around, but they never leave mine. It’s like he’s searching for something. Something he thinks he’ll find in my eyes. And he probably will. Eyes are the windows to the soul, you know. But if your soul is tainted, like mine, it’s not exactly a pretty sight.

“What do you want, Liz?”

Everything, Max. Everything I’ve only dreamed of having. Freedom, friendship, love. I want it all. But I shouldn’t, should I? Because that’s selfish. And I shouldn’t be selfish, should I?

He looks deeper into me and repeats, “What do you want?”

Body shaking, tears in my eyes. “It’s just not fair.” And I crumble.

Arms go around me and I feel warmth.

“It’s okay. Everything will be fine. You’ll see. Just give Alex a couple of days to get better, and everything will go back to normal.”

Normal? That’s a laugh. “My life isn’t exactly normal, Max.”

There’s a pause and I can feel his breath, warm on my cheek, soft whisper in my ear, “What’s so great about normal?”

This feeling, this … light … fills me and I want to laugh and smile and cry, all at the same time.

“Hey kiddos,” Mr. Whitman’s voice interrupts, and Max and I immediately break away from each other. Mrs. Whitman just smiles at me from her husband’s side. “It’s getting pretty late. Why don’t y’all head on home?”

Wait … “Aren’t you going home too?”

“No,” he shakes his head at me. “We’re going to stay the night.”

What? They’re going to stay? But, “I want to stay.”

But Mr. Whitman goes into his fathering mode, with hands on his hips, a frown on his face, and that authoritative tone of voice. “I’m sure Alex would appreciate it, but it’s a school night, Liz.”

Sigh. I knew they weren’t going to let me. “Okay.”

“Come on. Chin up. Everything will be fine.” Mr. Whitman steps closer to me, ruffling my hair. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

“Actually, Mr. Whitman, I can drop Liz off.” Max decides to step in and be Mr. Helpful.

“Are you sure, Maxwell?” Mr. Whitman goes to stand next to Mrs. Whitman again. And I already know he’s going to let layer-boy take me home, since he’s such a nice kid and all. I wonder if Mr. Whitman knows that Max bangs cheerleaders. And that Max practically sexually assaulted me, kissing me in a hallway without my permission and what not.

“No problem. It’s on my way home.” Max smiles that innocent smile of his.

“All right. I’ll see you kids tomorrow then.” Mr. Whitman obviously doesn’t know.



--------------



He drove me home in silence, which I found to be half eerie and half comforting. Strange, aren’t I?

“Are you okay, Liz?” We’re parked in front of the Crashdown. And he’s out of the jeep, standing there, opening my door for me.

Oh. Hop out. “I’ll live.” Rummage through my pocket for my keys and unlock the front door to the diner. Walk in and I’m about to lock the door from the inside when I notice that there’s someone else inside the diner with me. And he shouldn’t be.

“Max, what are you doing?”

“Walking you up. The boogie monster might pop up and grab you. And we don’t want that to happen.”

He’s joking. But I’m not exactly in the joking mood. So as sternly as possible, “Max …

“Humor me. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Fine.” If he wants to do a little search and sweep over the place, fine by me. It’s not like I’m going to sleep or anything. Sigh. Walk into the back, grab me a tub of ice cream, a bowl, and a spoon and take my seat on the counter.

And when he’s finally satisfied with his search, he sits down next to me. “What are you doing?”

Let’s see … I have a tub of ice cream out. Ice cream scooped into a bowl. And am sticking a spoon of ice cream into my mouth. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Want help?”

Blink a few times. “I think I can handle eating my ice cream by myself.”

“Then, can I get an Alien Blast?”

Point to the counter, “Can you make it yourself?”

“Of course. I’ve seen Maria do it plenty of times.” I go back to my ice cream, but I watch him head behind the counter, get himself a glass, and step up to the machine. “What are all of these buttons for?”

Smile. I knew he wouldn’t be able to do it. Guys are so helpless and pathetic. “Sit down. I’ll get it.”

So we sit there, in the stools next to each other, him with his Alien Blast and me with my bowl of ice cream. That is, until he asks for a refill. I get up and make it and then we sit back down to our silence. The squeaking of our stools as we twist around, the spoons clinking against the glass and bowl, and the low hum of the freezer in back are the only noise. Until he goes …

“Can I have another one, please?”

Put my bowl down. “Max, that’s your third refill. What gives?”

“I just … really want some more.” I think the look of disbelief I give him tells him that I don’t buy his bullshit. “Fine. I just don’t want to leave yet.”

Oh. I get it. “I see what’s going on.”

“Do you?”

Yes, I do, Mr. Helpful. “Look, just because Alex isn’t here right now, doesn’t mean that you have to take his place as big brother and watch after me.”

“But … who else will?”

“I’m capable of taking care of myself. Thank you very much.” I don’t need someone to watch me. I don’t need anyone.

“Just promise me something, Liz.”

Oh God. He’s going to start getting savior-like again. “What?”

“If you ever need me … for anything, you’ll tell me.”

Groan and grumble. I don’t need this. I don’t need anyone. “Max …”

“No, Liz. Look, I’ll admit, the whole thing in the chemistry room was a bad decision on my part.” Damn straight it was, buddy. “But just … if there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

“There’s nothing you can do, Max.”

“I can do anything.”

Max is completely full of himself. I bet he thinks he’s what makes the world go ‘round. “Oh, really?”

“Yes.”

“Make Alex better.” Because that’s what I want. I want my smiling, happy Alex back. Not a pale Alex who is strapped to a bed with tubes coming out of him.

“Alex will get better. But this isn’t about Alex. This is about you. What do you want?”

There’s so much that I want, but “there’s nothing you can do, Max.”

“Come on, Liz. Give me something I can work with here. I’m a macho man. Thus, I have unexplainable urges to fix things.” He flexes his muscles and I laugh.

I look up at him and he’s looking at me. “You have a beautiful smile. You shouldn’t hide it.”

It suddenly becomes an awkward moment. “It’s one of the many things I hide.” Look away and go back to my bowl of melted ice cream.

“Like this?” He grabs my hand. I want to jerk back, but I don’t. I let him take my wrist and push my sleeve up before I pull my hand away.

Smile awkwardly. “It’ll heal. Physical pain heals naturally. It’s just a temporary tribulation that will go away.” Plaster on the fake smile.

“Sure,” my stool then slowly begins to turn until he has me facing him, “On the outside. But what about on the inside?”

And do I dare? Do I clue him in on the little thoughts that run rampant in my mind? “That part’s permanent. I’m a crazy and messed up person, Max. That can’t be fixed.”

I watch him blink a few times. “You aren’t crazy or messed up.”

I laugh. It’s feeling really awkward and hot, and I laugh to ease the tension. Or at least, I think I do. But I have a feeling that I laugh so that I stay distant, because I know that this is leading to something, some kind of big stepping-stone for me. I’m just not sure if I’m ready. But laughter dies and smiles fade. And in the end, I’m still crazy. “I wouldn’t be if I could just make it disappear. Make my problems just go away.”

“You can’t just wish everything away, Liz. You have to work at it. You have to heal yourself.”

That’s easier said than done, Max. Because … “What if I can’t? What then?” And that’s when you hit raw. That’s when you tell the truth. And the truth is, I’m scared, scared that it won’t get any better than this, that it’ll never get any better than this. And that’s when the tears come. And they do. And I duck my head and stare at my lap.

A hand covers mine and I look up at him. “Then I’m here to help you.”

Narrow my eyes and just stare at him. “Why?”

“Why what?” He looks confused.

“Why are you doing this?” What’s in it for him?

God, his words, the look he gives me. “You know why.”

Do I? Because I don’t think I do. “Tell me.”

There’s a pause and he’s suddenly sitting closer to me, my hand in his. “Because you need me.”

Look up at him. “Do I?”

“Do you?”

I shrug and bite my lip. “You tell me.”

He shakes his head softly and continues to whisper. “I can’t choose for you, Liz. That’s something you have to decide.”

But I shake my head. “Why can’t you choose for me?”

“Because it’s your decision.”

“But I need someone to choose for me, someone to think for me, someone to tell me what to do. I need some control in my life, Max. And I can’t …” I’m gripping his hand now and leaning into him. I think I’m starting to get desperate. I think I want this. I think I need him. “I can’t do this on my own.”

“No one’s asking you to.” Fingers go through my hair and wipe at my cheeks.

But it’s useless, because the tears come. And they don’t stop. “God … I just want to be sane.”

“What’s making you not sane?”

“This,” claw and rip at my sleeve. “It’s driving me crazy. And I just want it to go away.”

“Okay.” I feel his thumb wipe at my cheek a few more times before he pulls his hands away. I look up at him. “I can make it go away.”

And I just stare. What does he mean? Watch him sigh. Watch him lift up my wrist and place it on the counter, rolling my sleeve back. “What are you doing, Max?”

“Sh…” he smiles. “We’re going to try to make it disappear.”

Instead of writing him off as a complete loony, I decide to humor him. “Like magic?”

He nods. “Something like that, yes.”

And I have to laugh. “Are you going to pull a rabbit out of a hat next?”

“Hey. Healing is a craft. Don’t poke fun,” he waves a finger at me.

But I can’t help but smile. It feels good to smile. It really does. “Healing? What? With potions and what not?”

Pause while he stares at me. “Exactly. So I’ll just gather a few things.” And he grabs my bowl of melted ice cream and goes behind the counter.

Gather? “I’m sorry but we’re all out of eye of newt and toe of frog.”

“What did I say about poking fun?” he chides.

And I smile. “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. You kind of just set yourself up for it.”

“Yeah? Well, you won’t be laughing much longer.” He sits back down with the bowl, which is now a mixture of melted ice cream, sugar, pepper, and what ever else was within reach on the counter. “I am going to have you awed and amazed. So much that you’ll be on your hands and knees with gratitude.”

“Oh, really?”

“Of course. Now that we’re all set. We’ll just have to warm you up a bit.” He takes my hand, and I let him, while he runs his hand up and down my wrist. “Does this hurt?”

Shake my head. “No.” I lie.

He gives me this kind of lopsided smile and then lays my hand on the counter, over a napkin. Then he spoons this mushy junk onto my wrist.

And I stare at it with a smirk on my face. “Awe and amazed, huh? It didn’t work.”

“Because we’re not done yet. You have to say the magic words. He places his hand over my wrist and starts rubbing the gooeyness into my skin. It feels yucky. And it stings. “You may feel a slight tingling from the pressure. Okay?”

Nod my head. “Okay.”

“Close your eyes. Take deep breaths and repeat after me. Max Evans …”

“Max Evans …”

“… is a god.”

Roll my eyes. “You wish.”

“Liz …” he’s starting to whine, “You have to say the line.”

“Fine.” Sigh. “Max Evans is a gawd.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Open my eyes and smile at him. “Excruciatingly difficult on my part, but I hide it well.” Was that me? Was I … flirting?

“Keep your eyes closed, Liz. Repeat, ‘and I will be forever and eternally indebted to him …’”

“Great. It’s like I’m selling my soul to the devil.”

“Hey,” he tries to sound offended, but I can hear the laughter in his voice. “I never said that I was the devil. I am, however, devilishly handsome, but not the devil.”

Roll my eyes. “Hardy har, har.” Sigh. “Max Evans is a god and I will be forever indebted to him.”

I feel somewhat of a tickly, stinging kind of feeling. But I can’t decide if it’s from Max rubbing my wrist, or the gooeyness entering my wound. Maybe it’s both.

He wipes at my wrist with a napkin, and I open my eyes to see a smiling Max. “See? It worked.”

Stare down at my wrist. And it looks … smaller. The line across my wrist a lot thinner, and the skin somewhat closing up. “Oh my God, Max. It-how … wow. This is incredible. This really works.” We should bottle this stuff up. We’ll make a fortune.

He’s smiling. Probably happy with himself. “Sh … this’ll stay between you and me, okay?”

“How, Max?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. If I did tell you, you wouldn’t need me anymore. And we can’t have that, now can we?” He winks.

He’s kidding with me, but I just can’t get over what happened. Glance down at him, his hand. “If this really works, then what about your hand? It looks pretty bad.” I reach for his hand and examine the scrapes.

“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

Place his hand on the napkin and spoon some of Max’s magic potion onto the scrapes. “Close your eyes, take deep breaths, and repeat after me.”

“Give it up, Parker. It’s not going to work.” He tries to pull his hand back, but I hold tight.

“Then just humor me. Now repeat. Elizabeth …”

Watch him close his eyes. “Elizabeth …”

“… is the most beautiful in all the land …”

“… is the most beautiful in all the land.”

Hold my breath while he says it. Even with his eyes closed, even under these circumstances, the way he said it … it’s just … Sigh. Take another napkin and wipe off his knuckles. And frown. “It didn’t work.”

“But it did.” Look up at him. “I feel a lot better now. All over.”

Stare at him. Smile. And Yawn.

“Tired?”

I nod.

“I should get going then. It’s late.” He gets off of his stool and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait … Max …” Stand up from my stool.

“Yeah?” He’s facing me again.

You know how some things just stick in your head and you just need to get them out and answered or you’re going to think about them forever and ever and you’ll never be able to sleep another wink again because it’s stuck on your mind? This is one of them. “Did you mean it, what you said to me earlier?”

Pause while he just stares at me, his voice soft. “What did I say?”

That I’m beautiful. That you love me. “That … I can talk to you.”

“Any time, Liz. About anything. Just give me a call. I don’t care if it’s three in the morning and you just can’t sleep. You can call me up. Or I can come over and we can just talk or whatever.”

“Okay.” Nod my head.

“Okay.” There’s a pause with both of us are standing there, awkwardly. “So … I should get going.”

“Yeah.” Walk him to the door and he steps out. “Max …” I step outside too.

“Yeah?” He’s facing me, a smile on his face.

“I … um …” sigh. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

Shrug and shake my head, smiling. “I don’t know. It just felt appropriate.”

“You’re welcome, Liz. And sweet dreams.”

I watch him climb into his jeep before I step back inside and lock the door. And I watch him drive down the street before I turn off the light and head upstairs.

“Sweet dreams, Max.”



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 11:45 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
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Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Sixteen:
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|| “Elizabeth,” she stays looking out the window, but she knows I’m listening, sitting at the table behind her. “Sometimes, for some people, there is more to life. Sometimes, there is a greater purpose. Do you understand?”

I just look up at her strangely. “Mommy, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t bring her into that.” Turn around and there’s Daddy.

“Hi, Daddy.” Wave to him, but he doesn’t even look at me. He’s staring over at her with that mad look.

She turns to him. “Hank, I think-”

“I don’t care! Why can’t you just leave it alone?”

“Daddy?”

She stands up, stepping toward him. “Leave it alone? How can I when-”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“Mommy?”

He finally looks at me. “Lizzie, honey-bear, go up to your room.”

“But-”

“Now.” He points to the stairs.

“But-”

He lets out a deep breath, hand on his forehead like when he’s frustrated. “Liz, will you just …
||


… wake up?”

What … the … hell …?

Eyes wide and she’s hovering closely above, shaking the hell out of me.

“Maria! What are you … What are you doing? Stop sh-shaking me.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” she finally lets go and gets off the bed, “but if I didn’t wake you up soon, we’ll be late for school.”

Glance at the clock and it’s seven thirty three. Well, golly gee, she’s right. Pull the covers back over my head and lay down in bed. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I’m here to take you to school.” The covers are ripped back from me.

What? But Alex takes me to … Oh … yeah … “I don’t need you to take me to school.”

“Sorry, babe. But I’ve been given strict orders to escort you to school.” She pushes clothes into my hands and shoves me into my bathroom. “Now get dressed.”



--------------



We ride to school is silence. Though I thrive on silence, this one bothers me. Maria looks as though she’s concentrating a little too hard on driving. And I continue to just stare out the window the entire ride. It’s gray and gloomy outside, clouds blanketing every inch of the sky, blocking out the sun, the heat, and the warmth. Not that I would have felt it otherwise. I was already cold.

But she parks her car, I get out, and we start towards the building. And I’m about to enter the big double doors when she stops me. “My mom told me to give you this.” She hands me an envelope and proceeds in without me, leaving me standing outside.

Glance the letter over and it has “Elizabeth” written in nice, formal like penmanship. And inside:


The paperwork is finalized and you are to relocate into E. Harding’s new residence as of next week.
J. Ramirez



Don’t you just love it when you can already tell that the day is going to be a killer to get through?



--------------



First period was a bore. I would have slept through the entire class if I weren’t busy copying down notes for Alex.

Second period was a bore. I got Alex his homework and finished mine, so that he could copy it, like he always does.

Third period was even more of a bore.

And all this time, you’re probably wondering, where is Max in all of this? Well, I dodged and avoided and ran away from him the best I could. Why? Because of my terrible fear of confrontations. So I avoid them like the plague.

So come fourth period, I don’t even show up for class.

Did you know that it’s very dusty in the eraser room? It really is. And it’s hard to imagine how people can lock lips in here and not suffocate to death. But when you are kissing someone, do you even think about breathing? Hmm … how many times have I kissed a guy? Twice. How many guys have I kissed? One. Was I really thinking while I was kissing him? Not at all. I suppose that answers my question. I wonder if Max thinks the same?

“Liz,” the door suddenly opens. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

And me? I just sit there on the table in the small room and kick my legs some more. “Do you worry about breathing when you’re kissing someone?

He kind of just looks at me and I just smile back, it’s a sad smile though. “Um … no.”

“Hmm …” He looks a bit uneasy from the question. Poor, poor Max.

He clears his throat and slides his hands into his pockets nervously. “Why aren’t you in class?”

“The chalk fumes allured me into this abyss that has claimed so many private moments and inhabited so many fantasies, so many dreams.”

He shuffles his feet a bit. “You wanna make-out?”

And suddenly, I feel a bit uneasy. Laugh a little, duck my head, and deny it the best I can. “With you, Max? No.”

“Can I ask you something, Liz?” And suddenly, he’s right in front of me, his leg brushing up against my knee. And some of my coldness goes away.

Sigh and look up, my head still whirling. “No, Max, that dress does not make you look fat.”

He looks at me funny. “What dress?”

Sigh and look up, my head still whirling. “El gato come la mesa.”

“The cat eats the table?” He’s still looking at me funny.

Groan and pull my legs up, hugging them to me, leaning my head down. “My head is scrambled.”

“Let me see.” Fingertips trace softly along my jawbone, fingers through my hair.

And all there is, is warmth. The coldness ebbing away. And the cloudiness clears a bit. And I’m pretty sure it has something to do with him. So what do I do? I push him away. “Max, you’re a little too close for comfort.”

But he doesn’t back off. He stays right where he is. “You didn’t sleep well.” I think he knows he’s making the coldness go away. Maybe I’m giving him warmth too.

So I slide off the table and put distance between us. “No, I didn’t sleep that well.”

“Nightmare?” He takes a step closer.

And I back up. “No.”

And he stops. “Oh.” He knows I’m lying. How? I do not know. But he knows. He knows too much. And that part scares me.

So what do I do? I retreat. “I need to get to class.”

An arm stops me and he’s holding out something. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Take it and open it up.

“My number. So if you need to talk-”

“Max,” shake my head and look at him as though he’s crazy, “I’m not going to call you.”

He lets out a sigh. “If you need to talk to me, Liz. I’m-”

“I wouldn’t talk to you, Max.” I hold the paper up and let it drop. And we both watch as it floats to the ground, landing with a silent thud that echoes through our ears. And we both just stare at it. I bet that one act symbolized way more than simply what it was. I bet that paper somehow stood for something greater than just a scribbled on piece of scrap.

Because when he looked back up at me, there weren’t sweet whispers or shy smiles anymore. “You do realize that that whole thing that we had last night, really did happen, right?”

Nod my head and look away, staring at the door. I should leave through it soon. These confined places just aren’t working for us. Max and I, together, in the make-out spot of West Roswell High? “You realize that if someone walked in here, you and I both ditching class and ending up in the eraser room together isn’t really a pretty picture?”

He steps closer and closer. “You ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away.”

And the fact that he really is breathing down my neck with that angry look in his eyes, makes me a tad bit nervous. “I fully understand that concept.”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page here.”

And I bite back. “Oh, we are.” Hand on the doorknob, only to have him pull my hand back.

“Then what do you want from me?” He looks frustrated. He looks annoyed. And he looks a tad bit upset.

I am confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean …” he sighs and leans back against the door. I watch as he tries to gather his thoughts. “You trust me enough for me to know things about you. So you can trust me enough to tell me what’s wrong.”

And I scoff, shaking my head and go back over to the table and lean against it. “That’s just it. I don’t trust you enough.”

And I don’t look at him. I can’t look at him.

But I know he’s staring at me. “Then what am I doing here?”

Shake my head, shrug, and keep a cool indifferent smile on my face. “I don’t know, Max. What are you doing here?” I’m not looking at him. Or rather, I have the pretense of not looking at him. But I’m actually staring with the corner of my eye.

He straightens up from leaning against the door. “Why don’t you trust me?”

“Well …” shrug again. “You’ve never really given me reason to.”

“I’ve done plenty for you.” He comes over to the table and I slide off toward the door.

“Have you?” I keep my same indifferent tone.

“Yeah,” he’s nodding and starting towards me again. “The wrist thing, and Pam, and Alex. And the whole Sean thing too.”

A hand comes up and runs through my hair, brushing against my cheek. My head starts spinning again. And I have to shove him away. “Look, would you just stay away from me?”

It just gets quiet after that. And I just keep my gaze towards the ground, too scared to look up. But when I do, he’s staring right back at me, mouth open. “Did we take a step back somewhere without me realizing it? Is this some kind of game, Liz? Are you just toying with me?”

“What?” I back up against the door a little more.

“Oh, it’s just that last night, you were actually talking to me. You were opening up to me, telling me things, showing emotions and letting me help you. And now, you’re backing way off and being this cold bitch.”

My head jerks up and I glare at him. “You know what? Fuck you.” Turn around and tear at the door.

“Liz. I didn’t mean it like that. Crap. I just-”

And I whip around and stare him down. “Stay the hell away from me.” Before I slam the door back in his face and walk away.



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I stormed straight home, kicking and cursing the entire way there. Angry with him. Angry with the world. But more so angry with myself.

Drop my bag on the couch and head into the kitchen. I grab an orange and put it on the counter. Open up a drawer and pull out a knife. Close the drawer.

Hold the knife to the orange, and the light in the kitchen kind of gleams from it. I stop. And hold the knife up again, staring at the blade.

It would be so easy … so easy to just forget. A small price to pay for a moment of silence, a moment to stop from thinking, to stop from overanalyzing, from dwelling on petty tribulations.

Place my hand on the counter and hold the knife to it. Close my eyes and I run the blade slowly across, a smile on my face, and tears in my eyes.

Bring the blade across again … slowly. Again, and again, and again, until I feel it in my skin, stinging.

“I’m here. Anyone home?”

Drop the knife into the sink, turn on the water, spinning around just in time to see Alex enter the kitchen.

Jerk my head up and stare forward, a smile instantly on my face. “ALEX!” Go over and wrap my arms around him.

“Whoa there…” he kind of winces.

“Oh, sorry.” I let go and back off. “Are you hurting?”

“Nope.” He smiles. “All better.”

“Wow. Yesterday you looked … awful. And now …” hug him again, but lightly this time. In the excitement of it all, I forget that I’m not a touchy feely kind of person. “I am so happy you’re home.”

He hugs me back. “Yeah. I’m happy to be home too.” But he pulls back and looks at me, before he wipes at my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I slump back, a frown on my face. “I don’t know. My head just … and all of this … there’s just so much unexplainable phenomena and I just …” Glance at him again, staring him up and down. “Wow, you don’t have a scratch on you.’”

He kind of just chuckles and looks at me. “Are you okay, Liz? You’re babbling, dear. And you don’t babble.”

Groan and lean back against the counter. “I don’t know. My head just hurts.”

“Are you feeling okay?” he comes over and puts a hand on my forehead. “Do you need me to go get Max?”

“No.” I chuckle. Why do I chuckle? I do not know. I simply chuckle. “Max is the last person I would like to see right now.”

“Why is that?”

Sigh. “You don’t want to know, Alex.”

“Why? Did he try something?” There Alex goes, being all protective-like again. It’s nice.

“Alex, the day that Max Evans starts paying more attention to me, is the day I slit my wrists and die.” And I walk out of the kitchen before he could comment. But the worst part of what I said, is that it is true.

The only reason Max is around is because I’m mentally unstable, and he thinks it’s his job to help. He’s the only one who knows knows, he’s the only one who found out, and he thinks he’s the only one who can cure me. He’s not around for me. He’s around because he feels obligated. He’s around because if he helps me, then he can, in turn, feel good about himself. He’s around because there’s nothing better to do in this dingy little town.

I know all this. And it shouldn’t bother me … but it does.

Maybe that’s why I can’t accept his help. Maybe that’s why, after I make some progress, I have to hide and run away. Maybe it’s because I don’t deserve his help. Maybe it’s because he shouldn’t have to deal with me. He has a happy life. He shouldn’t have to be forced to succumb to the agony that is mine. Maybe I’m way more scared than I let on, but I just hide it well.

Maybe he won’t give up on me. Maybe he will help.



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I went through my day like it was any other day. After all, it was just like any normal day. Alex is fine. Maria is still working the shift with me, a little bounce in her step, and me? I’m still as insane as ever. If not more so.

So when Max comes in, I ignore him, as I’ve done the rest of the day. He sat in my section, but I ignored him. All the way to the point where he tries to catch me while I’m walking to get another person their order. But me, being quick on my feet, put the plate down on the table and lock myself in the bathroom, where he can’t get me. Yeah, I’m slick.

I didn’t come out for about half an hour and he wasn’t in the diner anymore. The place was empty. Maria closed up for the night. And I go up to my room, having ignored Max the whole day.

So what do I do? I grab my pajamas, change in the bathroom, and slip under the covers and just lie there, in my bed. The silence is deafening and I just lie, in my bed. It’s so quiet that I’m pretty sure I could hear the sounds of crickets from below, even though it’s the second story of the building. And the sound of a coyote howling from a gazillion miles away. Quiet.

I wanted him to catch me earlier. I wanted him to break down any doors or walls that I put up to keep him out. I want him to find me and just hold me without question and just let me cry my eyes out and make everything better. And I want him to do all of these things without me having to tell him it’s what I want.

But I know that it isn’t going to happen.

I take a deep breath. Tears slide down my cheeks, close my eyes, roll over, and try my best to sleep. After all, I shouldn’t care.



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The sad thing was that, that was what my next couple of days consisted of. The saddest part was that is was minus Max.

The days were still gloomy and gray. And I buried myself deeper and deeper in my head, obviously and blatantly depressed. And more alone than ever.

No more of his looks. No more smirks. No more stares. No more showing up at the Crashdown. And no more talks in the eraser room when I didn’t show up to classes. He never came to look for me. I was there, waiting and ready to be the damsel in distress, to let him be the good Samaritan that he is until he lost interest in me. But he never came. Didn’t bother.

There was no need to avoid him when he was obviously avoiding me.

Which is fine. Really. I was never his problem to deal with in the first place. Right?

He’s not supposed to know things about me. He’s not supposed to be around me, bothering me and wanting to know my thoughts. He’s not supposed to do almost anything, when he’s with me, just to make me smile ... and I’m not supposed to care.

Drop the apple onto the counter and pull the knife out, closing the drawer. And automatically bring it to my wrist, pulling slowly across.

“Liz, are you okay?” he calls from the couch.

“I’m fine, Alex.” Rinse the knife and put it away.

He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter now. I don’t even look at him. “It’s just … you really haven’t been talking to me since I got back from the hospital. And you’ve been a little moody lately.” I still have yet to tell him about the move.

“I’m fine, Alex.” I grab the phone and hand him the apple on my way out of the kitchen.

Enter my room and lock the door, sitting slowly down on the bed, phone in hand.

Pull a small scrap of paper carefully out of my pocket, slowly dialing the numbers and waiting while it rings, once, twice, and someone picks up.

“Look, Pam. Would you stop calling me?!”

If I had been in my right state of mind, I probably would have made some kind of semi-jealous, semi-vengeful, yet witty and sarcastic comment. But in my right state of mind, I was not. “Max?”

His voice isn’t screeching and hollering anymore. It’s kind of soft. “Yeah.”

Deep breath, slump down on the bed and give in. “I need to talk.”



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 1:32 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Seventeen
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It’s been five hundred and seventy seconds since I called him. Five hundred of which I’ve been sitting out on the balcony. Forty of which took me to get out onto the balcony. Thirty of which I spent on the phone. And three seconds since I first heard the sound of footsteps on the bottom step of the ladder. With him taking approximately eight tenths of a second to take each step, means he has about twenty more steps to go before he reaches me. Am I being paranoid? Maybe just a little.

But it’s justifiable. How? Because I am weird like that. Odd and peculiar. And my strange self sits in the lounge chair with maybe twelve more seconds until he reaches me. And what is running through my head right now? I’m thinking that twelve seconds just might be enough time to slip back into my window and into my closet to hide before he makes it up here.

But I don’t. I sit and wait. Because no matter how much I deny it, I want to know what he has to say. I want to know what he’s going to do. And I want to know what he’s thinking right now, since our vague conversation just gave so much of it away …

I go: “I need to talk.”

He goes: “Liz?”

I go: “No.”

He goes: “What’s wrong?”

I go: “Nothing.”

He goes: “Do you want me to come over?”

I go: “No.”

He goes: “I’ll be right there.”

And his phone goes: Click.

Yeah. And now it brings us to the present, where, despite the darkness and the gloomy clouds that still cover the sky, I start to see hair, and then a handsome face, nice shoulders, arms, chest, and then the rest of him jump onto the roof. He straightens up, looks in my direction, and then starts towards me.
“Hey.” He kind of waves. He looks a bit nervous. Scared, maybe?

I wonder, if I stay really still, maybe he won’t notice that I’m here. Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll disappear. You know? If I can’t see him, he can’t see me and whatnot. Oh, maybe, if I hold my breath …

Lounge chair shifts and there are gentle touches on my cheek, warm and tender.

“What’s wrong?” his voice is soft, soothing.

It’s amazing really. This is what I want, what I’ve needed, the warmth. Not just these last few couple of days, no. Since forever. And the most amazing part? I can’t take it. Not even when it’s offered to me with both hands open.

So what do I do? I move away.

“Liz?” His voice wavers and I open my eyes to give him a look.

He scoots away and I want to tell him to stop, that I need him to stay close, that I need his warmth. I can feel him now, just not enough. It’s still so cold.

And if I could, I’d jump in his arms and let him hold me, because I know he would. He wouldn’t turn me down. How could he, when he wants to save me so badly? Max the savior, saving the whole world, even the less worthy of people, like me.

“We don’t have to talk.” He’s not even looking at me. Sitting there, but not really there. Faced away and staring at the ground. Why is he even here? “I can just sit here with you, if that’s what-”

“Max, go home.” I think my voice might have startled him. He kind of just goes into this lapsed silence, staring at the ground and thinking, sitting there.

And I just need him to leave. I’d rather feel cold then have this taunting semi-warmth feeling. It’s like being at the other side of the room from a fire, seeing its alluring flames, but still shivering and cold, when you want more than anything to be right next to it, warming yourself. But from this distance, it’s not enough.

“I’d rather be here, Liz.” And he still won’t look at me, just slouches there at the foot of the chair.

And I just stare at him. Sigh and shake my head. “It’s late. You should be home. What would your parents say?”

“I don’t have parents.” My head shoots up and I kind of just stare at him, while he stares at the ground. And I’m stunned. What the hell do you say to that? But Max sighs and kind of just shakes his head. “At least, they’re not with me.”

And all I can do is nod my head a bit and look away. “Me too.”

And through the corner of my eye, I can see him lift his head and look at me. But now, I can’t look at him. “At least here, I can be with you. At home,” he just shrugs, and I’m still just pretending to stare off. “It’s just an empty house.”

Before I kind of just figured Max had it all, the smarts, the grades, the jeep, the nice car, every girl in the world. And now he seems … lonelier, I guess. And I bet, if I turned to look at him, I’d find a sadness in his eyes that I never noticed before. It seems like I’m pitying him, doesn’t it?

“But hey,” glimpse him shrugging again, “you get used to it.”

Sigh. “It doesn’t have to be that way, Max.” I shake my head and face him again, but he’s turned away and looking back towards the ground. We seem to always just barely miss looking at each other, don’t we? It’s like we’re taking turns of some sort.

After a while, he stands, faced away. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.”

Shake my head and sit up more, hugging my knees to me. “I didn’t say that.” I kind of speak softly and I wonder if he heard me or not because he doesn’t seem to respond, just stands there, his back to me.

Until he finally turns around, a smirk now on his face, hand outstretched toward me. “Come with me.”

And I kind of just stare at his open palm for a second, not sure what to do. To go or not to go? Sigh, take a deep breath, close my eyes and blindly slip my hand into his, fully aware that I may end up regretting this later, but taking the chance anyway because in the end and through it all, whatever happens, it’s Max.

It occurs to me later that I never asked what he had in mind, what we’re going to do, or even where we’re going. I just go. Down the dimly lit streets in the dead of night, I just walk there, beside him, following blindly and letting him lead the way. And I’m not sure whether it’s the fact that I gave him this control over me so effortlessly that scared me, or that somewhere in my messed up mind, I knew I probably would follow him to the ends of the earth, just to walk beside him. Freaky, creepy, and insane, I am.

“What are you thinking?” I hear his voice and take a quick glance at him to find him just staring into the darkness of the street.

Should I tell him? Should I clue him in on what kind of hold he has on me? What an impact he’s made since he first walked into my life? How beautiful and perfect I think he is? Sigh. “How I’m going to tell Alex.”

“Tell Alex what?”

Shrug a bit, trying to make it not a big deal. That me, packing up and shuffling off to another different home, having to conjure up a whole new daily routine, and a whole new set of house rules to remember, isn’t a big deal to me. “That I’m moving.”

“Moving?”

I shrug and continue walking. But I stop when I notice he isn’t following, glance back at him and nod my head. “In with my mom’s cousin.”

He still just stands there, shuffles his feet a bit, but still, just stands. “Oh.”

And it’s the way he says his ‘oh’ that gets to me. It’s kind of hard to decipher because it’s not really a happy oh like ‘oh, isn’t that interesting’. But it’s not an indifferent oh like ‘oh, I don’t freaking care.” It’s just an ‘oh’. And I think I’m reading way too much into this.

It seems my overanalyzing is true when I feel Max shaking me a bit from where he’s standing, a step away from me. How he got this close, I don’t know because I seemed to have stopped paying attention, being in my own little world and all. “Moving where to, Liz?”

“Huh?” Gather my wits. “Oh, it’s … um-it’s still in Roswell.”

“Do the Whitmans know?” See him start walking and I have to pick up a few steps to catch up to him.

“Yes, and they don’t want to be the ones to tell Alex.” And I have to roll my eyes and laugh at the whole ordeal because even Alex’s parents don’t want to be the ones to break the news to him. And quite frankly, I don’t blame them, because neither do I.

“I’ll tell him,” he says it as though it weren’t a big deal.

And although Max’s offer was sweet, I have to laugh and shake my head at him. “Sorry, Max. But it’s not your business to tell.”

“Yeah. What do I care, right?” his voice is tight and his pace quickens.

I have to jump a few steps before I can grab his arm to try to get him to stop. “What are you talking about?”

He stops and stares me down, and all I can do is stare back. It’s another mini-battle between us, I guess. When did we start having them? I don’t know. But I win this one, I suppose, since he looks away first and starts walking again.

He keeps his quick pace and I have to struggle to keep up. I guess I kind of just took it for granted that he always adjusted his pace to suit mine before, even though I never noticed it.

Glance at him and he’s just looking straight, taking large steps, hands in his pocket. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was just taking a casual, but brisk stroll down the block. But his eyes are hard, his jaw is tight, and his ears fall back just a little, the way it does when he is frustrated or angry.

And it all sends little daggers of guilt at me. Take a deep breath and jerk at his arm. It’s better to edge him on more and get him to yell at me than to have him give me the silent treatment. “What’s wrong?”

He just shakes his head and shrugs, more anger coming off of him. “You tell me.”

And I do exactly like he does with the head shaking and the shrugs, only without all of that pent up anger. At least, not too much pent up anger. “What do you mean?”

He walks a few steps away. “I mean … What are we, Liz?” And I’m going, ‘huh?’. But he turns back around and walks right up to me, confusing me more. “Are we friends … more than friends?”

And with the look he’s giving me, and all of these things that I’m starting to notice more, I think I might be starting to understand what he’s getting at. But for the sake of me being me, I pretend that I don’t. Why? I do not know. Just shrug and play innocent. “We’re friends, Max.”

“Why?” I try to look away. And I try to extract myself from this whole situation, but I can’t. He’s just so close. And suddenly, it’s a lot harder to breathe. So what can I do but push away?

“I don’t know.” Step off the metaphorical platform and point the arrow towards him. “Why are you here? Why are you wasting your time with me when you could be spending it with someone like … Pam.” I seem to use her as a scapegoat a lot, don’t I?

“Because God knows she’d want me, right? Unlike you?” He’s angry and I’m thinking how easy it would be to just walk away from him right now, turn around and just go back home, in the safety of my room.

But something keeps me rooted in place, staring at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve tried … so much. But it’s just never good enough for you, is it?” And it’s my fault I asked for this. I wanted him to let his anger out and he’s doing a hell of a job of it, practically shouting, hands raking through his hair, and huffing.

And the worst of it, I still don’t quite understand what the hell he is talking about. “What?”

“Why do I even want you, other than the obvious? What the hell is it that keeps pulling me to you?” It’s at this point that I pretty much figure that he’s talking to himself. I keep standing there though, arms crossed, soaking up all that he’s saying, but I don’t even attempt to try to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Any other girl, God, I could have any other girl and they’d come running, bow at my feet, and do my bidding. But you? No. You can’t even stand to be in my presence.”

Shake my head and just chuckle in my mind. That last part couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Max, what are you talking about?”

He stops his pacing a few feet away from me, faced away. I can see him try to calm himself down, his shoulders lifting up and down while he takes deep breaths. And after a while, his voice comes out evenly, “nothing. Nothing.”

He starts walking again, his pace slower this time. He takes a few steps and then stops when he notices I’m not following. He doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t call out to me. He just stands there, waiting patiently.

And after a while, I let out a sigh, slowly take the few steps separating us, link my arm through his and we continue down the street.



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Max and I. We walked. No talking, just walking. Each with our own thoughts running rampant through our heads. How we ended up in the park, sitting down on a bench, I do not know.

But we don’t talk. I don’t even look at him. I can’t. Because not only do I not understand what is going on, I don’t know if I want to. Some times, some things are better left unknown. So you never bother to ask the question. Not even of yourself.

“See that cluster of stars right there?” he breaks the silence, pointing toward the sky.

I nod and my eyes follow his finger up to a small group of tiny little diamonds in the sky.

“Those are my favorite.” I glance back at him and there’s a sorrowful smile on his face. “Those are the ones I always think of when I think of my parents.” I did mention the sorrowful part of his smile, didn’t I?

“Do you think of them often?” I ask the question and his eyes start to shift from the stars to look down at me, so I quickly look up towards the sky. I don’t know, but there’s something in the way he can just stare through me that scares me. So I avoid it the best I can.

“No.” Watch him shake his head through the corner of my eye. “I used to. But now … they just kind of faded away. Kind of sad, huh?”

And some time during his little confession, my eyes just drifted towards him on their own accord. And I just shake my head softly and offer him a small smile. “It’s not, Max. It’s okay. You’ll be fine.” My hand comes up and brushes his cheek. It feels oddly right to do so. Something inside of me just wanted to reach out and comfort the lost little boy.

Until his hand comes up and covers mine. Then I have to pull away, sit straight, and refocus my gaze on something else. “So,” this time, I break the silence, “if you had, say, a letter, from your dad, what would you do with it?” That’s right. Just play it off and he won’t know what you’re talking about.

“First of all, I’d read it.” He pauses and I can feel his eyes on me again. “You haven’t read it yet, have you?”

“I haven’t had time.” Shake my head and keep staring out at nothing.

I hear Max scoff, because, after all, that was one lame-ass excuse. “That’s bullshit, Liz. And you know it.”

And I have to agree with him there. “It’s just … what could he possibly have to say to me, after what he did?”

He leans back, his arm brushing up to mine and I can feel him shrugging. “You’ll never know until you read it.”

I try to take into account what he said and just sit there, staring out at nothingness until I feel a finger reach out, forcing me to look at him. And his eyes are incredible. “Look, all I know is, if my father had sent me a letter, I would kill to get to it.”



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Hours later, keeping Max’s words in mind, what do I do? I ignored everything he said and write him off as a complete loony.

Kidding. I took the letter out and stared at it for a whole half an hour before I put it back in its nice little hiding spot, unopened. Max might be willing to kill to get something from his father, but that just shows how much stronger he is than me.

What could Dad possibly have to say to me? And in the end, I stick with my motto, because sometimes, it’s just better to not know. Being left in the dark can save you from a lot of things. Hurt, pain, sorrow. None of which I am particularly fond of.

“Liz?” And there’s a soft knock on the door before it opens. And in enters Alex, grin on his face and all. You can’t help but smile back.

“Hey, Alex. It’s past midnight. What are you doing up this late?” Sit up in bed and motion for him to come in closer. “It’s a school night, you know?”

“I know. But I come bearing gifts.” He pulls a bag of cookies from behind his back and my eyes pretty much light up. I’m a sucker for sweets.

Gesture towards the bed, “Well, then, you’re more than welcome.”

He opens the bag of cookies and we kind of just dig in until Alex stops, shaking his head. “Milk. I knew I forgot something.”

I smile and brush crumbs from my lap, standing up and walking towards the door. “I’ll get it. Knowing you, you’ll probably trip over something on the way back and wake everyone up.”

“It’s not my fault my legs are so long,” he frowns. “They get caught in things.”

He says it so sincerely that you can’t not smile. “I’ll be back.” Shake my head and head out to the kitchen. Tiptoe out, fill two glasses, and tiptoe back to find Alex sitting on the bed, staring out the window.

Slip back onto the bed and hand Alex his glass. He takes it and smiles. “So, why can’t you sleep?”

I just shrug. “Things on my mind. You?”

He sighs. “Same here. I’ve got …” there’s a pause and you can see him blush a bit, “girl problems.”

Quirk my eyebrow at him.

“Well, I don’t have girl problems, myself, but problems concerning girls. I mean, I’m having problems that deal with-”

“Alex,” It is kind of fun just watching Alex fall all over his words. But I had to stop him and put him out of his misery, “I get what you’re saying.”

“It’s just … I don’t know. I mean, everyone is pairing up and I kind of just feel left out.” Why he tells me this, I do not know, since I am probably one of the most antisocial people he knows.

And all I can think of to say to him is the regular hallmark, standard pep-talk kind of thing. “Alex, when you find the right girl-”

“Liz,” he interrupts, giving me this somewhat annoyed look. “Don’t start with that. That’s the sort of stuff I should be getting from my mom, not from you.”

Sigh, shrug, and pout my lip. “What am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know,” he kind of whines too. “It’s just … when I see Michael with Maria and Kyle with Tess-”

Whoa, back the train up. “Michael and Maria? I can maybe … kind of … see how that happened … I guess. But Kyle and Tess? I never would have thought. How can she stand him?”

“Liz,” he gives me this raised eyebrow kind of look. “This stuff has been going on for a while now. Where have you been? Another planet?”

Well, if you count being in my own little world, I suppose so. “What else is going on that I don’t know about?”

“Well, Doug’s been sent off to … boot camp.” Alex just shrugs nonchalantly, or at least, he tries to.

And wow, I completely forgot about Doug. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him since English a while back, the big day with me and Max and the chemistry room. Also the day Alex was in the hospital. That’s probably why Doug was sent away, “Because of what he did to you?”

“Yeah.” Alex just rolls his eyes. I don’t think he particularly liked that moment. “Not just that though. Doug’s been … acting up.”

Wait a second … “Acting up?”

“Nothing.” He stuffs another cookie in his mouth and starts chewing.

“Oh.” I choose to ignore and overlook what ever it was that happened here and move on to more important matters. “So what’s up with Max? Since you and him are kind of close.” Slick, huh? Aren’t I just so smooth?

Alex finishes chewing and shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, he still comes to me for advice and all. But lately, he’s just been so moody. Not that he isn’t always moody. I mean, it’s Max. He’s known for his brooding ways. But, it just seems like something’s been eating at him lately.”

“Hmm …” Chalk it up and remember to keep that in mind the next time I see him. “So, what are these girl problems of yours?”

“Well, there’s this girl.” He laughs at himself a bit and keeps going, “there’s always been this girl. But I’ve always been so out of her league.”

And I have to stop him and tell him what he needs to hear. “Alex, no one is too good for you. You’re way too great of a guy for anyone out there.” And that’s the God honest truth.

“No. But this girl … she’s incredible.” He gets that dreamy look in his eyes, the kind you only get when you’re head over heels for someone. Not that I’d know. I wonder if he even realizes he has the look. “Beautiful on the inside and out. Before, I just never thought I had a shot. But, now … I don’t know … she’s different-changed. And I think, maybe …”

“Alex, go for it. You’ll never know unless you try, right? So tomorrow, just go and ask Isabel out.” And no, I’m not just saying that because, if Isabel is with Alex, she can’t be with Max. I’m saying that, because I really do want Alex to be happy. And if he just so happens to be happy with her, then that’s who he should be with. And it’s not like Isabel is that bad of a person, is she?

“How did you know it was Isabel?” He just stares at me, mouth open.

“Sometimes, you just know.” I just have to shrug and play it off as intuition, because it’s weird how they’re never able to see, themselves, how obvious it is that they’ve fallen hard.

“Thanks, Liz.” He smiles.

I smile back. It’s nice being helpful. “Anytime.”

He stands from the bed and stretches his legs, glancing around the room a bit before he stops and points at the suitcase I have on the ground. “I see you’re packing already.”

And the conversation I’ve been dreading, starts. “Yeah. Look, Alex, I need to tell you that-”

“You’re moving?” he interrupts. I just stare at him and he smirks back with a sad smile. “I know already, Liz.”

Sigh and I feel a bit guilty for not having told him myself. “Who told you?

He just chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not allowed to say. But you can probably guess.” And with a wink, he heads towards the door. “Good night, Liz.”



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 1:33 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
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Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
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Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Eighteen:
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“So this is it, huh?” He parks the car and just stares forward, a sad look on his face.

I nod and open the door. “Yeah. I guess so.” Grab my one suitcase just in time to see him getting out of the car as well.

“So you’re all set?” He walks around the car towards me.

I just nod again. “Yeah.”

“So this is it?” And the puppy dog sad eyes are just too much.

Drop my suitcase to grab his shoulders and give him a good hard shake. “Yes, Alex. Stop it. You’re making it into a bigger thing than it is.”

But it is,” he whines while his arms go around me and I’m pulled into this huge tight hug.

I give him a pat on the back and push him away in order to breathe again. “Look at the bright side. You have your old room again and your life can go back to the way it was before I interrupted it.”

“But-”

“I’m leaving now.” Bend down and pick up my suitcase.

“But,” he grabs my suitcase from me. “What am I to do without you, my love, my sun, my worldly axis, my-”

“Stop,” jerk my suitcase back from him. “Alex. I am going to leave now,” I say this slowly in order for it to enter his skull. “And I want no more nonsense about it.”

“Ok,” he smiles and drops the whole overdramatic bit. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.” I get another hug and he kisses me on the top of my head. He has to bend down a little to do that though, you know, since I’m only wee tall and Alex is a giant.

He sighs and lets go of my shoulders. “I’ll be at Max’s house if you change your mind and take me up on my offer to run away together and join the traveling circus.”

Wait … “Max’s house?”

“Yeah. He lives right across the street, two houses down, that auburn-y, kind of brick one.” He points to a house to my left and sure enough, there’s Max’s jeep parked in the semicircle driveway and his shiny blue car can be seen in the open garage door.

Dude, if Max lives around here, “Who lives in these other houses?”

“No one you’ll like, I don’t think. Just your typical rich, snooty aristocrats. Oh, Pam lives in that one.” He points to the house across the street, three houses down to the right.

“Anyway, I have to go. I promised Max I’d meet him and you know how he feels about people who are late.”

“Yeah.” I just smile and nod my head. How does Max feel about people who are late? And how the hell am I supposed to know this information?

“See ya later.” He waves with another smile before he hops back into his car and I start up the walkway to the front door.

And before I even knock, the door flies open. I kind of drop my suitcase since, you know, it startled the hell out of me.

But the short, kind of plump, Hispanic woman, who opened the door, just smiles. “Hola. Senorita Elizabeth, I presume. I am Juanita, the maid. Let me get your bags.”

And I was going to say, ‘No, I’ll get them.’ But she stoops down and grabs the suitcase before I can even open my mouth and already starts walking away. The quickness of this short and plump woman astounds me.

“I will show you to your room. It’s right upstairs.” We walk through the nicely decorated lobby kind of welcoming room thing, I guess. What’s it called? A foyer? And start up a stair case, me following right behind her. “You will love the balcony.”

I’m still pondering over the gazillion steps in this staircase before I can even think “balcony?”

“Sí. Right this way.” She continues on through another kind of entertaining sitting room of some sort into a big hallway with doors. She walks all the way to the last door on the right and opens it, showing me inside.

Upon entering, I gawk like an old granny in a strip club. The room is huge. “Wow. This is my room?”

“Sí. I will unpack your bags.” She sets my suitcase down on the very flowery big bed.

And I, not particularly wanting her to go through my things say, “I can do that on my own, thank you.”

“Okay,” she steps away from the suitcase and the bed, “but Señor Harding says to unpack your things and make sure you get settled in.”

“Oh,” right. The creepy guy. “Is Mr. Harding in?”

“No. He is away on business,” she busies herself opening up the curtains and letting sunlight flood the room.

And something occurs to me that I never thought of before. “What type of business does he do?” What kind of work must he have to be able to afford places and furnishings like these?

“Oh, big things, big things,” she turns around and smiles at me. “Well, you’re all settled here. If you need anything, call.”

“Okay. Thank you, Juanita,” I smile back and she leaves the room. My room. Wow.

Sigh contently and walk around a bit. Big canopy bed, a dresser, a vanity, a desk, an all around pretty girlish room. And a huge, gigantic window, part of it being a door, that leads out to an incredible balcony. Very Romeo and Juliet like. It’s semicircular with flowers draping over the sides. Not as big as the balcony/rooftop of the Whitmans, but a lot more conventional.

And this is when you think, wow, this is too F-ing good to be true. Sigh and kind of just lean on the ledge of the balcony. It’s a nice day outside.

And you know what’s kind of weird? If I look straight ahead, I’m faced directly in front of Max’s house.

What’s that trying to tell me?

The gods?

Fate?

Destiny?

I don’t know. But it suddenly got a little too hot outside.

Go back in and drop down onto the bed. It’s comfy … and nice. Smile.

I open up my suitcase and empty everything out, refolding the clothes and things. I take my memorabilia box and slide it under the bed before I take my stack of clothes and walk over to the dresser, open it up and put all of my things away. Put up all of my schoolwork, paperwork, and whatnot on the desk, and everything else away.

Take my suitcase, close it up and bring it to the closet to put away. Slide open the closet door to reveal a very large walk-in closet. Whoa …

Not that I have any use for it. I’m not that big of a clothes person. My suitcase will probably feel lonely inside there by itself.

Other than the fact, of course, that there are things in the closet. Frilly things that are hung up inside the closet. Beautiful and extravagant frilly things. Throw the suitcase inside and pull one of the gowns off its hanger.

Take it out of the closet and lay in down carefully on the bed.

Oh my god, this can’t be for me. It’s a scarlet reddish elegant thing. And I’m biting my lip, staring at it. Should I try it on or shouldn’t I try it on? Should I?

Oh hell. Take off my shirt and jeans and get into the gown, zipping it up.

Go over to the full-length mirror and smile. Wow.

Grab my hair and twist it on top of my head before I let it fall back down. Wow.

It’s like when you play dress up when you were little.

Smile. I’m a pretty little princess.

And in my pretty little gown I go … twirl, twirl, twirl …

“Liz.”

“Alex!” Come to an abrupt halt, facing him and kind of clear my throat, smoothing the dress out, forgetting that he just walked in on me, spinning around like an idiot. “What are you doing in here?”

He’s just all smiles and it seems to make me blush more. “Oh, Juanita let me in.” As if that should explains everything.

“Okay. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I … um … just thought it was a little too bright in here.” He goes over and undoes the ropes so that the drapes fall back down, covering up the window.

Hmm … weird. “Okay … you’re done talking to Max?” Notice how he seems to be a long-term inhabitant of my mind?

“Yeah. I guess.” And he walks back over towards me, eyeing my dress with a smile before he starts circling around me, critiquing.

“Did you … um …” I have to turn around in order to face him again. “Did you tell him that I live across the street?”

“Yeah.” He nods, rolling his eyes.

Well? Don’t keep me in suspense, man. Was he happy about it? Was he annoyed? “What’d he say?”

“He didn’t say too much.” And I again gain nothing from Alex’s insight. “But Pam didn’t take it all too well.”

Hold the phone … “Pam?”

“Yeah. She was at Max’s house.” He says this in the most impassive voice ever. As if the fact doesn’t boil my blood. Oh, wait, that’s right. Because it shouldn’t. Because I shouldn’t give a damn. But I do …

“Oh. Of course.”

Alex lets out a wearisome breath and looks towards the door. “Well, I should get going. See ya later, alligator.”

“In a while, crocodile,” I manage a grin and a small wave.

Drudge back to the bed and just plop down. It’s funny, really. Because see, I said so myself that this whole ordeal was too good to be true. And it is. An enormous house, huge room, incredible balcony, fancy dresses, and a maid.

But what’s the downturn to it all? An incredible balcony where, if equipped with binoculars, I can probably get a nice view of the pimp and his harlot get it on.

Sigh.

I’m pretty evil with the name-calling, aren’t I?

Sigh.

Unzip the gown and walk back to the closet to hang it up, putting on my regular clothes.

And it’s weird because my mood is suddenly ruined. Why should I care if Max has Pam over at his house? And even if he had the whole cheerleading squad at his house, it shouldn’t mean a thing. Hell, if they all had one huge orgy, it should not fucking matter to me!

But still … there’s this feeling that’s kind of lingering in my chest … and I don’t like it.

Screw it all that Max seems to know the real me more than anyone ever has. Or that he told me things that seemed to be little tidbits that he doesn’t share with just anyone.

I was probably just some kind of freaking charity case anyway.

And here’s me, now slumped down to the floor, knees drawn up, head down. See? This is why I don’t lean on people. This is why I don’t depend on anyone. And why I don’t let people into the personal bubble that is my life. Because look what happens. They think it looks nice from the outside. But once they’re in, they can’t take the claustrophobia and they want out. And on the way, they tear at me, and pull me apart.

Don’t you just love how over-traumatic I make everything?

And I just lie down on the ground where I am. Why? Why not? It’s easier to build this way, brick by brick by brick. Stick with my standards, values, and way of life that I’ve grown to think, and I’ll be fine this time around. No smirks, soulful eyes, or brooding looks will get to me this time around, damn it.

A hundred watt smile and we’re all better. Open my eyes and I seemed to have almost wormed myself completely under my bed while in the midst of my self-pitying. Wiggle my way back out, grabbing my box-o-junk on the way.

I sit up, smiling. Why? Because I’m crazy like that. Take off the lid and take out what I wanted before I replace the lid again, sliding the box back under my bed.

If you’re thinking I’m about to do something bad to myself, you’re wrong. After all, I’m in a happy mood right now. Happy, happy, happy. Besides, I don’t have my knife. Max stole it from me and has yet to give it back. And I don’t think Juanita would take it too kindly if I go cutting away in her kitchen, if I knew where the kitchen was.

What’s right now lying in front of me is an envelope. But not just any envelope, no. It’s an unopened envelope, an unopened envelope with an unread letter inside of it. Because, you know, those unopened envelopes filled with unread letters are the best kind.

I should open it.

Should I open it?

Open it, I should.

It open, should I?

You ever wonder how many different ways you can rearrange a sentence?

Right. Postponing the inevitable.

Turn the envelope over and my fingers trace over dad’s handwriting. He always did have nice penmanship. I could open the letter, read it. But, what could it say? What could he possibly have to say to me, his daughter and only child?

“You really should take a look inside there. There could be some dated material.”

Head shoots up and I stare at an evil, smirking, arrogant son of a gun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

And he dares to come in closer, even with the evil daggers I’m mentally sending through his chest … among other areas … “Ouch. Just saying hi. Juanita let me in.”

Juanita. Figures. Maybe I should tell her that he’s an evil egotistical alien, bent on taking over the world and never to be allowed into the house again.

“So you’ve said ‘hi’. Now you can leave.” Sending more evil daggers his way.

“A bit touchy today, aren’t we?” And the guy doesn’t leave. No. He walks closer, stopping just a few feet away from me, just barely out of reach for me to be able to kick or hit or bite him. He’s smart. “So it looks like we’re neighbors. Isn’t it great?”

“Oh yes. Now you can sleep over and we can do each other’s hair and nails.” Give him a pointed look, and there has got to be enough sarcasm there for even him to get the hint.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind a sleep over.”

Obviously not. Groan and lay head down.

“Okay,” I can feel him getting closer, but I refuse to look up. “What’s wrong?” And there’s a hand smoothing my hair back.

I, of course, being me, slap his hand away. “Nothing.”

“No, see? Something has to be wrong if you aren’t keeping up to par in our usual bicker and banter.”

And I lift my head to this. Because, “Since when do we bicker and banter?” Since when does he acknowledge that we bicker and banter?

“Since now,” and he has this somewhat hopeful look on his face before he groans and sits down next to me. “Since I was hoping that you really didn’t mean it when you told me to leave just now.”

I scoot over so that he’s at least an arm’s reach away.

“Come on,” he sighs. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You want to know what’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. “What’s up with you and Pam?”

There’s a pause of guilty silence. “What about me and Pam?”

Raise eyebrow. Like I’m going to buy the whole innocent look. I own that look.

He shrugs and more death glares and evil imaginary daggers fly at his head. “She came over for a cup of sugar.”

Yeah, and my dog ate my homework. “Cup of sugar? Sure, if that’s what you’re calling it now a day.”

“Calling what?”

Bright smile, “Boinking, screwing, shagging, take your pick.”

“None of the such,” he sighs and then kind of scrubs his face in what seems like frustration. “She really did come over for sugar.”

Roll eyes. I’m sticking to my firm belief that Pam is a tart. And that’s that.

“Fine. Don’t believe me. She didn’t come barging into my house. No, I forced her inside and tied her down to a chair while I poured a cup of sugar down her throat. Until Alex came over and we all got up and did the Macarena.”

And I couldn’t help the small jerk at the side of my face, making me crack a small smile before I sigh and just give in. “Now that’s just silly. Alex doesn’t Macarena.”

“Pam did really come by asking for a cup of sugar. Sorry to disappoint you if you thought there was something more to it than that.”

Sigh. I seemed to have led him to believe that it would mean the world to me whether or not he fooled around with Pam. Which, in the process, makes him think that I’m jealous or something. Which also means that I kind of … somewhat … care about … him. Which I don’t. “Like I care.”

“Fine.” There’s an awkward little pause. “So … we’re neighbors now.”

“Yeah,” nod my head and continue to just sit there, a ways away from him.

But he doesn’t do the same, no. He scoots over and turns so that, not only are parts of his body in contact with parts of mine, he is also facing me, smile on his face. “But it’s great. Because if you ever need me, I’m right across the street.”

Shake my head and laugh a bit. “Max, what would I ever need you for?”

He, in turn, rolls his eyes at me. “Pu-lease. You need me.”

Small pause to think, and I turn towards him too. “Actually, I do.”

“You what?”

“I need you, Max.” Take a deep breath and prepare myself. “I-um … don’t get mad?”

He gives me this weird look. “We’ll see.”

No, no. Shake my head. “You can’t get mad.”

“I said ‘we’ll see’.”

Stubborn mule. “Fine.” Cross my arms over my chest. “No, I can’t tell you then.”

Seconds tick by until he caves. “All right, all right. I promise. I won’t get mad.”

“Okay,” slowly. God, how to tell him … “I … kind of …” figuring a visual would be easier than words, I slowly pull my sleeve back, and bring my hand up to show him.

And I look at Max, waiting for his reaction, because God knows I don’t know what it’s going to be.

But he just stares, frown on his face before he lifts his eyes to look into mine. “When did this happen?”

Shrug and bring my hand back down. “Days ago.”

“When you called me?”

I nod slowly and he’s still frowning and his voice is low, like a deep whisper. It’s scaring me. It’s like the uneasy calmness before a storm. Scary.

“What do you want from me?”

Shrug and bite my lip. “Make it go away again.” That’s what I want, right? That’s why I’m telling him? Because he can make it go away? Not because of the attention I get from him for it. Not because he makes me feel special. But because he can make it go away. “I’d try to do it myself, but I get the feeling that it won’t work, since it didn’t work when I tried the first time.”

“Liz, why do you do this to yourself?” his hands flail about, like he wants to hit something.

“You’re not supposed to get mad.” It’s funny that I say that, because deep down, I knew he’d get mad. If not mad, frustrated, annoyed, helpless?

“I’m not mad.” But his tone is still hinting like he wants to throw something.

“You said you wouldn’t get mad.”

“I’m not,” he takes a deep breath. “There’s no anger aimed towards you. I’m just concerned.”

Concerned? Wow. Great. Neat-o. And here comes the lecture …

“Liz-” this annoying beeping starts to go off. “Shit!” Max starts messing with his watch, pushing buttons or whatnot. I look up at him and he’s staring back at me. You can practically see the tug-o-war happening on his conscience. But in the end, his mind is made up. “I have to go. I don’t want to, but I really, really have to go. It’s an emergency.” Or so he tries to explain. I … do not care. “We’ll continue this talk later tonight.”

Pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around my legs. “I don’t know if I’ll be up for it then.”

He stands up and is looking down at me with another one of his looks. “I guess I’ll just have to forcefully tie you down to a chair and pour sugar down your throat until you feel up for it.”

I roll my eyes. I can’t even crack a grin right now. Don’t you hate the feeling of being at the bottom of someone’s priority list?

“Liz …”

And I’m surprised he isn’t bolting out of the door, it’s his chance.

But, no. “Look at me.” He squats back down and my face is being lifted to look up at him. The soulful eyes … they draw you in like bees to honey.

“You are a beautiful, intelligent, and very special person. And I … care about you so much. You don’t need to do this to yourself.” And he runs his hand over my arm, wrist, and gives my hand a squeeze. “We’ll get through it, okay?”

He stands back up with a sigh, kissing me at the top of my head on the way up. “I have to go.”

And I … do not know how to react. I kind of just … sit there. Not quite sure what to do or how to think right about now. But as I sit, I notice he’s still standing at the door. Glance up and look at him.

“And you’re wrong. Alex does too Macarena. He did it at last year’s Halloween party.” He winks and leaves out the door.

That, I must say, was freakishly weird. But kind of … I don’t know.

Sigh and lie back down. Must rebuild, brick by brick, and maybe next time, I won’t fall so easily.



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 2:11 pm, edited 4 times in total.
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Evelynn
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 277
Joined: Wed Feb 26, 2003 6:24 pm
Location: Cloud 9

Post by Evelynn »

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Chapter Nineteen:
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“And this,” we pass through another doorway, “is the dining room. You will take all of your meals in here.”

I get a good look around at the large dining table surrounded by chairs, beautifully adorned with a lovely centerpiece.

Juanita moves on and I continue to follow her, as I have been doing this entire tour of the house. “And this,” we walk through yet another doorway and into yet another room, “is the sitting room.”

And I stop to think. “But wasn’t there a sitting room upstairs?”

“No, no, no,” she corrects me, just shaking her head. “That was the drawing room.”

“Oh.” Obviously that was the drawing room. Well, who would have known? So … “Who paints?”

“No one,” she shrugs. “It’s just called a drawing room.”

But why would it be called a drawing room if it weren’t used for drawing? “Juanita, you’re confusing me.”

“These are just all very big and expensively decorated rooms to entertain guests in. Like those boys you had over earlier, ey …” she winks at me and gives me this smirk of a smile.

I will not stand for this. This issue must be fixed. “Okay, those boys? They’re never allowed in here ever again.” Well, that’s kind of harsh. I mean, Alex didn’t really do any wrong. “Well, the second one isn’t allowed into the house. But the first one is just not allowed into my room.”

“That second one? He can go wherever he wants. Ain’t no one gonna stop him, especially not me.” She shakes her head and busies herself fixing a flower arrangement in a vase on the coffee table.

And I’m not quite comprehending. “What? But he doesn’t live here. He lives across the street.”

“It’s not where he lives. It’s who his papa is,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I thought Max didn’t have a dad,” frown and think. I could have sworn he told me he didn’t have parents.

“Oh, Señor Maxwell has a papa, alright,” she says this with a laugh.

“And who is his papa?” Answer me that, Juanita.

“You know what?” she looks up from the flowers. “You look exhausted. How about I draw you a bath?” Notice how she tries to change the subject?

“Juanita. Who is Max’s dad?” How can he be feared? “What is he, some kind of big business tycoon?”

“Something like that,” she nods her head and starts walking towards another thing to busy herself with.

But my mind is still on track. “Why does Max have this whole town at his beck and call?”

“You didn’t hear it from me, but if you cross Maxwell, you cross his papa. And if you cross his papa, you may not live to see the next day,” she looks at me while she says this. Then, she turns back to dust off a few things.

You cross Max, you cross his dad, and you maybe killed? “What? So he’s like, some kind of mob boss or something? Is there some kind of mafia going around in this town?”

“Liz …”

“No, Juanita, I’ve crossed Max’s path more than enough times. How come I haven’t been shot yet?”

“Listen, sweetie. No one is going to touch you. Maxwell, he likes you.”

I ignore her statement and the small fluttering feeling I get from it. “So the deal with Max is that everyone is scared of him?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Because his father is in high places?” It kind of all makes sense.

“Uh huh …” she nods away.

“How do you know all this?” I think I’m starting to be convinced that either Juanita likes to gossip … or she’s a secret spy.

“Let’s just say I have excellent hearing.” Oh, that, I am sure of.

“I think I’ll go take that bath now.” If I can find the bathroom again, that is.

“I’ll go draw it for you,” she starts heading off in some direction but I stop her.

“No, I’ll get it.” I’m not sure how used to this whole maid thing I’m actually going to get.

“Are you sure?” she asks this as though it were her job to wait on my every call. Oh, but wait, it is.

“Yes.” I’m already heading up the stairs that will hopefully take me into a hallway that will lead to my bathroom.

“Well dinner is in less than an hour.”

“Actually, I wanted to go visit Alex. I’ll grab something at the Crashdown.” I’m not sure if I’m all up for the experience of eating at a large dining table yet. It’ll just make me feel more out of place than I already am.



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After the bath, or rather, quick shower, I walked to the Crashdown. It almost surprised me that there wasn’t some kind of chauffer in a nice shiny car to drive me around everywhere … almost.

But it wasn’t so bad, only a half a dozen extra blocks to walk each day. No big deal. But me with my slowness and my short legs, it took me thirty minutes to get there, almost breaking a sweat.

And when I got there, the place was packed, it being not a school day and all. It wasn’t in too much of a frenzy though, just a bunch of high school kids, some old folks, and a few families. And only two waitresses serving them all, one behind the counter, the other flying around in a panic to try to please the masses.

I normally opt for the counter when I work.

Head over there and there’s a blonde girl heading back and forth between making drinks and making change at the register.

“Maria.”

“Hey, Liz.” She throws me a smile and I smile back, in politeness and all.

Back to my reason for being here. “Is Alex working today?”

“Well, he was. But he took off early,” she rushes out with an easy shrug.

Alex, taking off early? That’s not like him.

“It’s okay. We got someone else to fill in for him,” she smiles, pointing to the cook’s window.

“Oh, yeah? Who?” See the thing is, we only have three cooks, Alex, Jose, and Mr. Whitman. And I happen to know for a fact that Mr. Whitman and his wife are out at a restaurant convention this weekend. And Jose isn’t too particularly fond of working weekends, unless scheduled.

Glance over at the cook’s window and see the hair man himself, in an apron as he gives me one nod of his head in that universal guy thing for a hello. Michael? “Michael knows how to run the grill?”

“Yeah,” Maria says it, surprisingly enough, with a smile. “He worked here during the summer last year.”

Well fuck a duck. The long hair monstrosity can do something other than sit, eat, sleep, and scratch himself.

“Is something bothering you, Liz?” She gives me this concerned look and it’s kind of weird because I dimly remember that I don’t talk to her anymore. Nor do I spend my lunches in her presence any longer. But at the moment, we seem to be buddy, buddy.

I smile and just … whatever. “What? No. I’m fine.”

“You sure? Come on, have a seat. Hang with me. I’ll get you an alien blast, on me.” She walks away and comes back about two minutes later. “Here you go.”

Take a sip. Hmm … I don’t think I’ve ever had one of these before. But once the taste gets to me, I have to choke and gag a little, setting the glass down. “Maria, what is this?”

“What?” She comes back and looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

And I push the glass to her. “It tastes funny. Kind of … tangy, bitter …. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Oh, um …” her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, her eyes kind of wide.

And Michael appears at her side from out of nowhere. “The machine wasn’t cleaned out.”

“Um-yea … I’ll … I’ll get you something else.” She grabs the glass and walks away. Hmm … weird.



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“Hey, Liz?”

I spin to her, still sitting there with my cherry coke.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask you, there’s only like maybe half an hour or so left … and I was wondering if you could stay and lock up. Michael and I were going to go see a movie.”

Glance at the cook’s window and Michael’s already putting up for the night. “So you and Michael, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of weird. But yeah. Everyone like … expected it to happen. I don’t know … it’s nice. He’s … incredible. Really caring, but very opinionated.”

Michael? Opinionated? Since when do I ever recall him giving his two cents about anything? “Okay, well …” it’s not like I have anything to do anyway, “Go ahead. I’ll just go get changed.”

“Thanks, Liz.”

Yeah, whatever. I just go into the back and grab my uniform from my locker. And I start changing while I hear Maria and Michael leaving. Throw my clothes into the locker, closing it, and grabbing my apron on the way out the ‘Employees Only’ door.

Finish tying on my apron and …

“Hey.”

Jump, gasp, freeze, or whatever the hell else people do when they’re scared shitless.

“Max!”

“Whoa …” he takes a few steps closer while I’m starting to breath again. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Well, he did a damn good job of it. I’m not actually saying this because, again, I’m still trying to calm myself, since, you know … I was kind of not expecting to find him here, or anyone else for that matter with the place being empty a minute ago and me not hearing the door chime go off.

“Juanita said I could find you here.”

“Yeah.” He’s standing next to me now, but I … I have to sit down.

“I didn’t think you worked today,” he takes the stool next to me.

“Oh, I’m not. I’m just filling in for Maria. She and Michael left early for a movie … so the grill isn’t really open right now, sorry,” point over to the cook’s window so that Max can note the absence of the cook. Why? To verify my statement, I suppose.

“I didn’t come for the grill. I came for you,” I look away from him, spin in my stool and move behind the counter. I feel the need to put some distance between us, for my own safety. And I can hear Max sigh. “And maybe an alien blast too.” He’s trying to lighten the mood a bit and I can’t blame him. There’s just something awkward about the moment.

“Oh, um … actually, the machine hasn’t been cleaned out. But if you wait, I can get it cleaned in oh …” glance at the clock on the wall, “ten minutes tops.” I smile at him for offering the suggestion, because this gives me something to do. This gives me something to busy my hands with, so I don’t focus too much on the little things. The little hand gestures, the little quirks, the little breathing noises he makes. Basically, so I don’t drown in a pool of overexertion of the Maxwell kind. His presence has this weird affect on me.

“I can help,” he offers and stands up from his stool. But I wave him back down.

“No, just sit there and look pretty,” I give him another sweet smile. I feel funny. Kind of … dainty. I don’t know how to describe it. I feel somewhat humble, kind of soft and quiet. It’s strange. It’s a lightheaded kind of feeling. I wonder if Max notices that I’m acting a bit off. Or that he seems a bit off himself. But he just smiles.

I stop the door to the kitchen open, open up the machine, and start pulling out the tubs inside. Max just stares at me as I pass him by each time. After a while, he gets up from the stool and leans against the doorframe and watches me while I’m in the kitchen.

It’s strange, him being there, just watching me, but it’s not really awkward like you’d think it would be. “So …” I think small talk might help stop me from reading too much into his intense stares, “How did that thing go that you left me for-” cough, choke, gag, and what not, “-left for?” Not left me for, left for. The ‘me’ shouldn’t be in there. The ‘me’ slipped out. The ‘me’ should be overlooked. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Glance back and he’s still just leaning there, no real expression on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that.” But then he sighs and stands from where he was leaning on the door. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Yeah, whatever. What do I care, right? Finish drying the tub off and carry it back out, past Max and back behind the counter. Max resumes his seat on one of the stool and I fix him his Alien Blast.

“Here you go,” my voice comes out softly and I put the glass down in front of him. Why my voice comes out softly, I do not know. Dainty wasn’t quite the right word, now that I think about it. Weak suits better. I feel weak.

“Thanks,” his voice comes out softly too and he takes a sip of it and nods appreciatively. There’s just this sadness floating about us, and I don’t know why.

All I can do is just sigh and hold my head in my hands, elbows on the table. You know what? I’ve never had an Alien Blast before. “Can I um …”

“What?” his eyebrows raise a bit and I take the glass from him, taking a sip.

The bitter tanginess enters my mouth again and I have to forcefully swallow it, or else I would have thrown it up. “It still tastes funky. Maybe the ice cream is bad.”

But he pulls it back and keeps drinking it. “Tastes fine to me.”

The bell above the entrance to the diner dings and we both turn to its direction. A man enters wearing a large overcoat and a hat. I guess it has still been a little bit windy at night. He takes the hat off as he enters the diner. His face looks smooth with a nice complexion. He seems very clean-cut with wavy goldish brown hair.

I smile an apologetic smile to the man. “I’m sorry, we’re closing in ten minutes and the grill is closed. Unless I could get you a drink …” I point and offer him a stool.

“No, thank you,” he says it rather curtly and leaves, but nods his head towards me. I probably would have found the man attractive, but his expression shoved you away. His lips didn’t smile, nor did they frown. They remained cold, as did his eyes. But something about him, struck me. I’ve never seen him before.

Focus my attention back towards Max, but Max is still glaring at the door. “Do you know him?”

“Kind of,” he sighs, shaking his head and redirecting his gaze towards me. “Why?”

“You were scowling at him.” Max doesn’t scowl often. He glares, fumes, smirks, smiles, and grins, but to scowl …

“No, I wasn’t.” He rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you were. You’re eyebrows were evil.” I scrunch my nose at him and there is a playfulness in our conversation now that wasn’t there before.

“They’re evil?” he’s asking me skeptically, leaning forward on the counter.

“Yeah.” I nod emphatically, making little horns at the top of my head.

“Oh really?” He gets up closer, eyes wide and staring at me.

“Uh huh …” I’m smiling, staring straight back at him.

“Well, I guess you balance me out perfectly then since you are so …” there’s a pause as he gets right up close to my face to say this … “heavenly.”

A giggle escapes me but it gets mumbled as Max’s lips cover mine. The smile slips off my face and he leans in further, bringing his hands up to pull me closer towards him. And I can’t react. I don’t react. I just stay still, there, motionlessly as I hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.

He finally pulls away and I have to look away from him, biting my lips. Tears are starting to form in my eyes and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

“Max … I don’t …” Keep biting my bottom lip to stop it from quivering and to stop me from saying something that he might interpret wrong, or that I might regret saying.

And I don’t know what’s wrong. This wasn’t our first kiss, but there was something just completely wrong about it. It felt … impure.

Max sighs, gets up and stands behind his stool, staring out towards the front of the diner. “Come take a walk with me.”

I straighten up too, crossing my arms over my chest. “I have to close up.”

He glances around the room. “What do you have to do? Put up chairs?” Both of our voices are still just as soft as ever. There’s just this weird feeling in the air, an exhaustion of emotions or something. I can’t decipher it.

So I just nod, “that, and mop the floor.”

“You go change and I’ll handle it,” he sighs out and I can barely hear him.

I take a step closer. Why are his shoulders slumped and why does his stance look so defeated? “What?”

“Just go change,” he turns and points towards the back door.

“Okay,” I nod and turn to slide through the door and head toward my locker. There’s a sadness to him, for some reason. Maybe he feels weak too. Maybe it’s in the air.

I finish changing and step back out into the diner. The chairs are all up and the floor is still a bit wet from having been freshly mopped.

“Let’s go.” He starts towards the door and I shut off all of the lights but the dim light behind the counter. That one stays on. I grab my keys to lock the register and the door and he’s standing outside, waiting, facing out towards the sky, his back to me.

The keys go in my pocket and I stand beside him, once I’m done. He starts walking and I follow suit.

I don’t know if he has a destination in mind. I, personally, think we’re walking towards the moon. It’s full and inviting, as opposed to the darkness and shadows all around us. The nights are getting windier.

I shiver and grab Max’s arm for comfort. At least, I think that’s what I grab him for. He stops, but doesn’t look at me, shrugs off his jean jacket and holds it out while I slide into it.

And we just keep walking, Max with his hands in his pockets and me in Max’s jacket. I like it. It smells like him. Why is there such a somberness about us?

I glance at him and his expression still hasn’t changed. There’s still a faint frown on his face.

“Max?” I call his name cautiously. I don’t want to venture where I’m not allowed, into this part of him that he doesn’t seem to want to share with anybody. I respect that he distances himself, because I’m the same way. I don’t want to pull others into my world of pain. But I can’t stand to see him in this agony.

He finally looks up and his eyes alone tear at me. How can someone hold so much pain in their eyes, in their soul?

He drops down onto a bench and I take my seat beside him. And he continues to stare at the ground, his breathing kind of labored. And I won’t push. Unlike him, I won’t force him to acknowledge the problem. I won’t trap him in corners and I won’t suffocate him. I’m here if he needs me and it’s okay if he doesn’t.

After a while, when his breathing isn’t as labored, he glances back up at me. He stares at me for a while, thinking. And I just sit there, patiently, because I’m only here if he wants me to be, but it’s okay if he doesn’t. I’m not going to force him to open up to me. I’m not going to invade his privacy. And I’m not going to interfere into his thoughts. That is not what he needs right now.

After a while, he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him, pushing back the jacket sleeve, leaving my wrist bare, exposed. He stares at it for the longest time, taking deep breaths.

Maybe, something happened to Max. Maybe Max did something crazy, something insane, and he needs to know that he isn’t the only messed up person out there. Maybe that’s why he needs to see my scar, my mistake, to comfort himself in some way.

But his head snaps up and he’s staring straight at me, still taking deep breaths, covering my wrist with his hand. “If I do this for you, will you promise not to do it again?”

I think he’s talking about healing it with his magic potion and words, like he did last time. And all I can do is shake my head slowly. With how devastated he is right now, the last things he needs are lies and empty promises. “I could promise …”

“But it wouldn’t mean a thing, right?” He’s just staring straight at me, emotions pooling in his eyes. “Promises are worth shit, right?”

“I want to give you hope, Max. I really do. And I want to say that you’re mistaken. But with all that I’ve experienced in my life, if I say those things, I’d be lying.” And it is killing me to say all that to him, but false hope isn’t what he needs.

“Then why do we make promises, if they aren’t worth anything. Why do we hold on to them so tightly?” His voice is desperate. His eyes are desperate. He’s searching for something. Something I don’t think he should be looking for inside of me.

Because sometimes, we just need to believe. Sometimes, we need a little faith, a little love, and a little magic in our lives. But promises, “They’re worth as much as we believe them to be worth. They’re only as high as we value them to be.”

“Promises are cheap,” he spits out. “Actions speak truth,” he says this assertively, as if it were his new motto.

Me? I know he’s not really thinking straight, for some reason, he won’t say. “How so?”

“Like,” he starts off, “if you were to tell me that you love me, it wouldn’t mean a …” he stops what he was about to say and just stares out into the street, “Wrong analogy.”

This is my picture perfect moment, right? To tell him that I care about him. That I love him. Tell him how I feel. And the darkness will part and there will be light. And my three little words will convince him to believe in life again. Love will conquer all and will rejuvenate him into the smirking cocky son of a gun we all know and love, right?

I’m sorry. Life doesn’t happen that way.

The last thing he needs is to overlap emotions. The last thing he needs is complication or a scapegoat. If he’s going to get through this, he needs to deal with this problem at his own pace. He can bury the problem in his mind if he chooses, but I won’t help him do it.

“What are you thinking?”

I look at him, and I tell him honestly, “I’m wondering what’s going on with you right now.”

A scoff comes out of him. “It doesn’t seem like you want to know.”

And I shake my head. “I won’t push, Max. I’m not the type to.”

“Have you ever heard earth shattering news that is so devastating that your entire world shakes?” he stares off, his eyes tired, his voice faded.

And I smile a sad smile. “More times than I’ve wanted these past few months.”

“How do you stop from falling?” He knows I know what he means by falling. And only if you have experienced it yourself would you know the feeling of losing your grip on the world, falling from your footing in life.

And I wonder why he even asks me. “You know what I do.” Can he hear the shame in my voice?

“Does it help?”

I shake my head. “I won’t take you down with me, Max.”

His smiles are tired too, they’re sad. “But you won’t stop me either, right?”

Bite my lip and I watch him hang his head. “It’s not my place to.”

“Why can’t it be?” He turns to me.

And I can only stare back. “What do you mean?”

“Why can’t you care?” There’s so much emotion is his eyes, too many things coming together in his head that I have to stop him.

“Max … don’t confuse your problems. They aren’t linked. Whatever it is that’s bothering you and knocking your world around, and whatever it is that bothers you dealing with me, they don’t go together. Deal with them one at a time or else you’ll confuse yourself and things will get too complex and you won’t be able to handle any of it at all.” I would know. It happened to me.

“Fine, forget about my other problem. Why don’t you care about me?”

He’s burying whatever this thing is, in the back of his mind. And it’s going to eat at him. He’s digging his own grave. And he’s using me to do it. “I do care.”

“Not enough.”

“Maybe.” Maybe it’s because I don’t show it. Maybe it’s because I’m scared. “Or maybe you just care too much.”

He laughs and looks back out toward the street. “I care so much that I’ve got the whole town watching my every move.”

“Why?” And I know I shouldn’t be asking. This is his time to figure things out, not mine. But some things just kick at you, and you have to know. “Why is your business the world’s business? Why do you seem to be so high, with the world at your feet?”

“What if it’s because it is, huh?” His voice gains this nasty edge and anger grows in his eyes. “What if that’s because that’s my place in life and that’s all the people care about. But I don’t give a flying fuck about it.”

And I try to remember that this anger isn’t meant to be aimed towards me. I’m not who he’s upset with, it’s the world. “What is it you want, Max?”

“You.”

I glance at him and he’s staring out into the street once again.

“I’m here.” I’m here, sitting on this bench with him, in the dark, in the middle of the night. I’d reach out to him. I would, except that the physical contact would scare him. Or maybe it’s because it would scare me. But, nevertheless, “I’m here.”

“You wouldn’t be, if you knew the truth.”

And I wish Max would stop talking in riddles. “What truth is that?”

“It’s a secret.” The corner of his mouth turns up, but the lopsided smile doesn’t reach his eyes. And I’m wondering if it ever will again.

“You have a lot of those, don’t you?” Secrets. Mysteries. Skeletons.

He nods his head slowly. “I’ve got my fair share. But so do you.”

I have to agree with him there. “Will you tell me yours, if I tell you mine?”

“No,” he laughs this miserable laugh. “You don’t want to know my secrets.”

I get the feeling that I don’t. That what Max is hiding is something that no one should know, and no one should have to deal with, not even himself. But if he’s asking whether or not I’m willing to share this with him, to share his burden and lift a few weights off his shoulder, “I do.”

He sighs and I start thinking he might actually tell me, but stops. “Some things are better left unknown, Liz.”

And don’t I know it. That’s a saying I live by. But “whatever it is, Max, whatever it is that you’re too scared to tell me … It’s okay. Because in the end, you’re still Max. The same Max who is helping me get through a really tough time. And the same one who is always willing to be there for me. You’re still Max. Still my Max.”

I wonder if he felt the possessiveness that I felt in those last few words. I wonder if I should have even said them. Some things are better left unsaid.

“Sometimes … I just want to be normal.”

That’s his confession. That’s his reaching out towards me, laying himself out there for me to comfort. And all I can give him is a sad smile, replaying words that he said to me, not too long ago, “What’s so great about normal?”

But Max just shakes his head. “You say that now, but you have no idea.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m not asking to know. I’m not forcing you to tell me. And I’m not asking to be a part of your life. It’s whether or not you want me there. And you said you did, but if you changed your mind …”

“Liz …” I look up and he’s staring at me, gripping my hand to him so tightly, desperation in his eyes, “I’m … different …”

“What do you mean?”

He takes deep breaths and I watch him slowly look down to his lap. My eyes follow and he’s placing my hand on his knee, palm up, while his hand wraps around my wrist, holding tightly.

Light shines from between the cracks of his fingers and from the sides of his hand, and then it’s gone. All the while, I’m gasping and staring, my mind whirling faster than I can keep up.

He lets go and I slowly bring my arm towards me, my bare wrist staring back at me, the scar gone.

I stare at Max and he’s just looking at me … some kind of look in his eyes. “I-I don’t-” I don’t understand, Max. What does this mean?

Both of his hands come up and grip the temples of my head. I try to pull back and I try to fight him off but he comes too fast. A light comes on in my head and my struggling stops.

And I can feel him, digging into my mind, pulling things out that I put away long ago. My mother’s death. My loneliness, my depression, my need to feel loved … memories of my childhood, memories I wanted to forget. When my father hit me. When my mother left. Embarrassing memories that aren’t meant to be shared with anyone. He was going through it as though it were nothing, just stupid pages in a book, projecting all of my emotion, all of my pain back through my eyes so that I could experience them again, so I can hurt all over again. And he wouldn’t stop.

“Stop. Stop it, Max. Please …”

And the torture ends quicker than it began. But the torment lingers, fresh in my mind and I jerk away from him, roll tightly into a ball and rock back and forth. Make it go away … make it go away …

“Am I still Max? Am I still your Max!?” I can hear his voice. I can feel it inside of my head and I just want to scream. But the white light spreads out this time, and then pitch darkness.



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Last edited by Evelynn on Thu Aug 23, 2007 3:25 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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