Chapter Text
Max hates dinnertime. It’s when Neil and her mom try their hardest to pretend that everything is normal, that everyone loves each other, but it’s such bullshit that it makes Max want to throw up. She’s learned not to say much, to make meals as painless as possible, so Max quickly shovels pasta into her mouth, and she can tell that next to her, Billy is operating under the same logic.
“Max, honey, Billy tells us you’ve made some new friends! That’s so great.” The silence is broken, and Max shoots a look at Billy. What is he trying to do?
“Yeah,” Max grunts, glaring at her brother as he winks obnoxiously. Then she gets it. Billy knows exactly how patronizing Max finds her mother’s comments about her social life. He knows exactly how much Max hates being treated like a child, how much she can’t stand having to answer to anyone. Max likes her freedom, and Billy knows it.
“Well, what are their names? What are they like? Come on, we want to hear all about them!” Max is under no illusion that anyone else at the table wants to hear even one thing about her new friends, nor does she want to talk about them. (Are they her friends? Lucas and Dustin are totally lame, Will is weirdly fragile, and Mike seems to hate her for some reason, but they’re better than nothing.) Neil is picking his teeth. Billy is smirking at her. But Max sees the wild hope in her mom’s eyes and decides to play along.
“They’re fine, Mom. They’re in my homeroom, and there’s Mike, Lucas, Will--“
To Max’s surprise, Neil jerks his head up. “Your friends are boys, Maxine?”
Max frowns. “Yeah, so what?” Her mom narrows her eyes at her. Be polite, Max. She steals a glance at Billy; he’s no longer smirking. Something has changed in the atmosphere, and Max feels anxiety bubbling in her stomach. What has she done wrong?
Neil laughs, a dry and unsettling chuckle. “You shouldn’t be hanging around with a bunch of teenage boys, Maxine. Boys only want one thing at that age, and just because you dress like one of them doesn’t mean they wouldn’t take you up, down, or sideways. I want you to find some girls to spend time with, understand?”
Max can hardly believe her ears. Neil has come close to saying these kinds of things before, when he’s drunk and her mom isn’t home, but never like this. Never so boldly, so clearly, so obviously aware of what he is saying and in control of his faculties. Anger is starting to bleed through her body, her face is flushing red. She’s clenching her fists, her jaw is twitching, and she’s about to tell Neil that he can shut the fuck up and she’ll hang around with whoever the hell she wants when something lands on her foot. It’s a boot. She barely stifles a gasp because it’s heavy, and she prepares to turn her anger on Billy. But out of the corner of her eye, she sees him determinedly chewing a pasta noodle, and they make eye contact. And Billy, ever so slightly, shakes his head.
Before Max knows what to do with this, her mother looks pleadingly at her husband, places a hand on his shoulder. “Come on Neil, I’m sure it isn’t anything like that. They’re so young, I’m sure they’re only playing.”
Max doesn’t even have time to take offense at her mother’s use of the juvenile “playing” because Neil laughs again, more harshly this time. He takes her mom’s hand off his shoulder and clasps it in his.
“Susan, I know you don’t want a slut for a daughter. I certainly don’t. Maxine needs to stop whoring around with these boys, and you will, won’t you Maxine?” His gaze snaps to her, and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes catch briefly on her chest.
Disgust snakes through her stomach, with Neil, with herself, and all Max wants to do is run to her room, and bury herself under blankets until her body is invisible, until she is invisible. Tears burn their way up her throat and into her eyes, and she is too humiliated to do anything but look down at her plate and nod. In the back of her mind, Max is furious with herself for not standing up to him, not defending her honor. This scene is playing out too fast, and everyone else seems to know what to do, but Max does nothing. She just gets mad.
Billy drives her to school the next morning, as usual. Max is staring out the car window, watching absently as the school bus rolls by and she catches the eye of a girl from her math class. Great, she thinks grimly. One of my new girl friends. The girl smiles at her shyly, but Max feels frustration building inside her again and huffs.
She crosses her arms over her chest. Max has been pretending since last night that what Neil said didn’t bother her, but all the same, she’s wearing her most bland grey t-shirt and her baggiest pair of jeans. She barely bothered to brush her hair. When she looked in the mirror this morning, all she could think about was Neil’s chant of “up, down, or sideways”, and she has to take several deep breaths to keep herself from punching something.
Apparently Billy notices Max’s bad mood—not that she’s usually in a good one during these morning drives—and speaks up. “Jesus Christ Max, what’s with the outfit? You look like you’re wearing a fucking sack.” He smirks a little, like he usually does when he makes fun of her, but Max notices that he seems distracted. His heart’s not really in it, she thinks sarcastically.
“Why do you care, Billy?” Max mutters. “Leave me alone.” They haven’t talked about what happened last night—why would they, it’s not like Billy talks to her about anything—about Neil’s comments and Billy’s warning (because, Max had reasoned in bed, that must have been what it was). The thing is, as much as Max wants to know what Billy had been thinking, she’s a little scared of the answer. At least this way, she can let herself pretend he was doing it for her.
Billy bites down on his cigarette, chews it for a moment. “Listen, you little shit, has my gentleman of a father said that kinda stuff to you before? About being a slut and everything?” He doesn’t look at her as he talks. Max, however, stares. Is this an expression of concern? If so, she has absolutely no idea what to do with it.
“Why?” Max asks suspiciously. Billy grunts.
“Just answer the question, shitface.”
“Only when he’s drunk.” Max gives a short answer, curious to see what Billy’s reaction will be, but he gives nothing away.
“He touch you?”
This really throws Max, and she feels a pang of revulsion in her gut, because first of all, the very thought makes her want to scream, but second of all, because why is God’s name is Billy asking her all these questions?
Without meaning to, Max skims over her memories, over those nights in her room and Neil’s drunken slurs, the way he grabs her hands and kisses her forehead for a second too long, the one time he comes a little too close to touching her ass.
“Not really.”
Billy finally turns his head to look at her, which would have made Max nervous about his eyes not being on the road if not for the fact that she’s seen Billy drive with much less focus. Billy has a lot of flaws, but Max has to admit—he’s a damn good driver. His hard eyes narrow and Max squirms a little, until he finally looks away.
“Look, I just gotta know if this is another thing I have to ride your stupid ass about, okay Maxine, cause I really have better things to do than convincing my dad that you’re not whoring yourself out on my watch. Don’t go thinking I care, cause I couldn’t give less of a shit.”
Max opens her mouth, furious that Billy has somehow succeeded in making her feel embarrassed about daring to hope for that exact thing. “I didn’t—“
Before she can defend herself, assure her asshole of a brother that she is no longer under any illusion that he possesses even one ounce of concern for her, Billy cuts her off. “And another thing, that’s the first and last time I’m gonna stop you from opening your mouth when my dad goes off like that. Don’t be stupid, keep your mouth shut, or it’ll be worse for you. You’re on your own from now on.”
Billy stomps on the gas, and they swerve into the parking lot of Hawkins Middle. He flashes her a mocking grin. “Now get out of my car.”
Max, her eyes stinging a little with the full weight of this conversation, slams the door shut.