Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first thing Max felt was the downpour of rain, and how it hit every point on her spine like acupuncture. She felt how the water drenched her jacket and seeped through her shirt, the water made her clothes stick to her and weigh her down like elephant skin, pressing her into the muddied, soiled earth. 

Max pried herself off the ground, disoriented and spiked with fear. The first thing she saw when she was able to see anything but the ground below her was the heavy rain. How it fell down in sheets. It took her a second of hesitation to collect her thoughts- though it was hard to hear them over the storm weather. 

Her first thought was; Where am I? As she could not see enough of her surroundings to recognize it. It was too dark out, and the heavy rainfall obscured what little she could see. The second thought came soon after; What’s happening? Because she had no idea why the water fell down on her like sanded weights. The third was; how did I get here? Because Max could not recall going outside, and she could not recall the storm starting. And the third was; Where is ‘here’?  Max stood up and took in her environment, squinting to adjust her vision to the dark.

Her hair was whipped about in the raging winds, and Max could put together that she was, in fact, in a dense and unforgiving storm. And she was in the wilderness, alone. 

Which meant that she was in danger.

Stumbling upon this final fact, Max frantically looked around for some kind of landmark, civilization, anything that could shelter her where she would be safe. 

Ahead, she spotted something familiar. Over a hill, was the Arcadia Bay Lighthouse. Recognition flowed through her as she realized her location. 

Max was in Arcadia Bay. Yes, she remembered, she had returned to the town recently. She must be by the Wilderness Hiking Trail that led to the Lighthouse. 

She had only a second to think that was odd- Max had yet to visit the Lighthouse since arriving in Arcadia- before instinct took over and she took off toward it.

I’ll be safe if I can make it there, she told herself, Please, let me make it there…

Sprinting proved fruitless, as Max could barely see two feet ahead of her, and the ground was too slippery- Max feared she would fall. The trail was steep, and she breathed heavily as she made her way up.

The storm had washed away traces of the trail itself, and had Max not already been familiar with this path, she likely would have missed it. 

Lighting cracked and thundered in the distance, making Max flinch. All she thought about was making it to that lighthouse. She would be safe there, she knew it. Something about that thought felt right. 

She made it to the top of the trail, to the lighthouse and the overlook. Miraculously, the bench and map were right where Max recalled them being, not deterred by the storm. She raced over to the railing that overlooked the town. 

Max could see the storm. The clouds hovered and whipped around one another in a frenzy. Max recognized the pattern of a tornado, maybe one that could turn into a hurricane. It traveled over the Bay, headed toward the town. From where Max could view it, far removed from all the shops and the streets she knew by heart, she could see the storm in its enormity and how tiny the town buildings were in comparison. She saw how it picked up entire buildings and cars and threw them around like discarded toys. It was monstrous. 

“Holy shit,” Max gasped to no one but herself. 

The storm chucked one of the boats it had picked up along the shoreline and it sailed over Max’s head, hitting the lighthouse at its side. The lighthouse crumpled, the bulb at its top tipping over, headed straight toward Max.

Max only had the time to react by bringing her hands to block her face. She let out a yell; “No!” Before everything went dark.

...

Max jolted in her seat. Her heart pounded erratically in her chest as she took in her surroundings, expecting the lighthouse- the storm.

But Max was in class still, like she had been for almost two hours. 

“Alfred Hitchcock called the film ‘Little Pieces of Time’,” said Mr. Jefferson, standing in the circle of desks. “But he could be talking about photography, as he likely was.”

Heart pounding maddeningly, Max took several large breathes, inhale, exhale, as she regarded the filled classroom. 

That was… incredibly surreal. 

Victoria listened to the lecture with rapt attention. Taylor was on her phone. Stella’s pen fell to the floor as she swept her arm across her desk, so she leaned down to pick it up. Dana wrote something down in her open notebook. Max's eyes darted around, trying to take it all in. 

Okay, she thought to herself, I’m in class. Just like I’ve been all day. You fell asleep in class and had a weird dream. Happens to all of us.

And yet, the thought didn't reassure her. Max has never had particularly vivid dreams before. Just a moment ago, she'd been able to feel the chill of the night air, the heaviness of her drenched clothes and hair. She'd felt genuinely unsafe, like she knew she was in some kind of danger. It's strange that no one tapped her on the shoulder and woken her, actually. Mr. Jefferson always woke Stella when she fell asleep during his lectures. Weird. Surely someone would've noticed her asleep, that nightmare felt like it had lasted a while.

Max glanced up at the clock-- now that she was awake, she remembered that she'd been keeping an eye on the time before. Okay, even weirder; There was still five minutes left of class, just like there had been last she checked. That entire dream happened within the minute? Something isn't adding up. 

It’s okay, she reassured herself silently, anxiety from the ordeal festering in her stomach like acid. You’re in class now. There is no storm. You made it up. You’re okay. You’re safe. 

“These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow,” Mr. Jefferson continued. “From light to shadow, from color to chiaroscuro,”

Taylor threw a small paper ball across the classroom, and it hit Kate Marsh in the shoulder. She barely flinched.

Max’s heart fluttered like a hummingbird. Something wasn't right. The strangeness of the dream clung to her even as she tried to shake it. You're being paranoid. She told herself, but she still didn't feel safe. Anxiety isn't anything new to her. Max may as well be a seasoned expert, actually. She was probably overthinking this, like she does with everything. She needed to get out of her head and ground herself in the real world.

“Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?” Mr. Jefferson lectured into the open space. Her teacher had assured her and the rest of the class at the beginning of the year that an open space where everyone faced one another on equal ground- as supposed to desks facing forwards and the teacher as head of the room- sparked a creative environment where everyone’s voice was heard. Max didn’t agree, facing Mr. Jefferson alone was preferred to having to look at Victoria, or feeling like everyone was looking at her.

“Anybody?” Mr. Jefferson prompted. “Bueller?”

Victoria’s phone vibrated on her desk, making Max flinch at the sudden noise. 

“Daiane Arbus.” Said Victoria, not letting her eyes off the teacher for a second. Max blinked rapidly, trying to focus on the conversation.

“There you go, Victoria!” Mr. Jefferson brightened. “Why Arbus?”

“Because of her images of hopeless faces.” Victoria recited, like she had memorized the textbook. “You could feel, like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children.”

“She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it's bullshit.”

The class teetered with the utterance of the curse, out of place in the mouth of a teacher. “Shh, keep that to yourself.” Mr. Jefferson said conspiratorially. “Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious? What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty or innocence?” He proposed. “She had a brilliant eye, so she could have taken… another approach.”

The conversation filtered in and out or ears. Anxiously, Max’s hands went instinctively to her camera where it sat on her desk. Photography was the best grounding method Max knew of. How better to put yourself back into a moment, than capturing the moment itself? Photography always had a way of calming Max down. It made her feel more in control, she'd always felt like she had a better understanding of how to interact with the world through her viewfinder. With a polaroid in her hands, Max can always make sense of things.

Max popped out the flash and pressed down on the shutter. Her concentration went into the soft whirring of the machine, the routine printing of the polaroid photo. Basic, simple, repetitive. It soothed over her nerves until she heard shushing coming from the front of the classroom. 

Mr. Jefferson was looking straight at her, and immediately all Max had done to calm her nerves undid themselves. Oh no, come on, not right now. Max pleaded, dreading what she knew was about to happen.

“I believe Max has taken what you kids call a ‘selfie’.” He said. Eyes were on her, and Max froze. “A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Max... has a gift.”

A “gift”, Max echoed in her own solitary mind. If only I was talentless, you wouldn’t notice me at all. Max couldn’t honestly tell if she admired Mark Jefferson or couldn’t stand him. At this moment, she wanted to chuck him into the sun.

He seemed to see potential in Max as a photographer, and because Mark Jefferson had been fairly popular in that profession in the nineties, Max was ecstatic to know she had a chance in the artistic world. But then he went about it like this- picking on her in class, hounding her for assignments, critiquing her in front of others, singling her out in every way there was to be singled out. There was always an “I expect more from you” vibe he gave off that Max couldn’t shake.

She was always able to fly under the radar in her classes, what made this so different?

“Of course, as you all know, the photo portrait has been popular since the early 1800's. Your generation was not the first to use images for ‘selfie-expression’.” He continued, cringing at the phrase. The class- those who were listening anyway- cringed along with him. “Sorry. I couldn't resist. The point remains that the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art, and photography, for as long as it's been around.” He turned his head back to Max, and she met his eye. “Now, Max, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?”

Like a deer under headlights, Max could only stare at him. Like she always does when he picks on her. But she can't help it-- everyone was staring at her, everyone was probably annoyed Mr. Jefferson was taking the time to force Max to speak again because she always takes forever, and she always fumbles it. They were probably judging her too-- who takes a polaroid selfie in the middle of class? That's so random and bizarre. Max had forgotten all about her surroundings, god, why can't she be normal? For the longest second to ever be, there was silence. Hesitance. And then-

“You're asking me?” Max replied meekly. “Let me think,” she scoured her brain, but everything was blank. Max thought that even if she did know the answer, she would never be able to think of it now. “um…”

Mr. Jefferson clapped his hands together, making Max flinch again. He stood up harshly. “You either know this or you don’t, Max.” Max looked down, hoping that if she did nothing else, she would disappear from him. “Is there anyone here who knows their stuff?” Mr. Jefferson asked into the space.

Victoria sat on the edge of her seat, raising her hand and not waiting to be called on. “Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created ‘daguerreotypes’, a process that gave portraits a sharp reflective style, like a mirror.” She turned to Max in a mock pitying expression. “That old-ass polaroid has gotten you totally stuck in the Retro Zone. Sad face.” Taylor laughed, but no one else in the class was paying attention.

Max did not meet her eye. She didn’t want Victoria addressing her, she wanted to be undetected- her stomach had not settled down, and not a single grounding technique had worked. It’s like everyone in this class was conspiring to keep her on this anxiety attack.

“Very good, Victoria.” Said Mr. Jefferson, to which Victoria beamed under the praise. “The Daguerreian Process brought out fine detail in people's faces, making them extremely popular from the 1800's onward. The first American daguerreotype self-portrait was done by Robert Cornelius. You can find out all about him in your textbook. Or even... online.”

The bell rang, and Max felt another shock to her already frayed nerves. Though it was a relief at the same time. If one more person talked to her, Max was going to explode. Thank god this is her last class of today, she's exhausted from masking all day.

On her desk was only the essentials, her journal, the camera, the photo- Max cringed as she picked it up. She’d taken it a week ago, and every time she saw it, it got worse somehow. She shoved it into her pocket- not now not now-

“And guys, don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the ‘Everyday Heroes’ contest.” Mr. Jefferson spoke over the sudden hustle of the classroom as all the students grabbed for their belongings and stood up. “I'll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be feted by the art world. It's great exposure, and it can kickstart a career in photography.”

Max threw her belongings into her bag, not willing to look twice at them. She ducked down below her desk, hoping to fly under the teacher’s radar. “So, Stella and Alyssa, get it together.” He continued. “Taylor, don't hide. I'm still waiting for your entry, too. And yes, Max, I see you pretending not to see me.”

As Max stood back up, she continued to ignore the professor. Why did he feel the need to do that?

Max waited until the bulk of the crowd left the classroom so she wouldn’t be caught in the mosh. Finally away from the spotlight and still confused by her dream, Max relaxed. Now, she was just plain exhausted.

She headed for the door, and noticed Kate still in her seat, which was odd for her. That wasn’t the odd part- Kate often stayed behind this class to help Mr. Jefferson clean up, or offer other assistance if he required it.

That was the kind of person Kate Marsh was. She helped without being prompted, she always had something kind to say, she was the kind of person to reach out to someone when they were having a bad day, or could use a friend.

That’s how she met Kate, anyway. Max had started the year with no friends and despite her best attempt at making them, she failed at every corner. This deep out of her comfort zone, it felt like such a task to talk to her classmates, except for maybe Warren.

Which is why it was such a relief when Kate came to talk to her. Kate had been kind and patient and didn’t rush Max when she stewed too long on a response and took too long to answer.

No, the odd thing was that Kate was simply sitting there, not moving a single muscle, like she hadn’t even heard the bell ring. Something was off. Kate had been down for the last couple days. Max didn't want to pry-- and even if she did it's not like she'd know what to say-- but the rumor mill seems like the culprit. Not that Max listens to rumors! But sometimes when you're quiet, people forget that you're there. Anyway, Max knows a thing or two about bullies. It can really get to you sometimes.

“Hey, Kate.” Max approached. Kate flinched out of whatever she had been thinking about. Max wondered if her presence was wanted. 

But Kate always came up to Max when she was having a bad day, Max could return the favor, couldn’t she?

“Oh,” she said. “Hi Max.”

“You seem quiet today.” Max remarked. And truthfully, before her sudden vision? Dream? Max had already noticed Kate acting odd. 

“Just thinking too much.” Kate put simply. Which also was not like her, she usually jumped on the opportunity to prolongate a conversation. 

“Okay.” Said Max lamely. She wasn’t sure if the conversation was being shut down, but she tried again anyway. “Want to grab a cup of tea or something? And bitch about life?” She tried to put as much optimism in her voice as she could muster.

Kate was the only person other than Warren at Blackwell who had asked for Max’s number, and therefore the only person other than him who texted her. 

She had once asked Max to go into town with her on a weekend to get tea. Max didn’t like tea, but this was proof she had made a friend- if only a casual one- and so she had agreed as quickly as she could. The tea outing hasn’t happened yet, because they both kept having homework and it kept being postponed. The most recent postponement had been on Kate’s side, where she said she had too much to do over the weekend, and they would have to shoot for the next one.

“Thanks,” said Kate sweetly, “but not today. I have to go over homework.” 

“No worries,” said Max, taking an unprompted step back. “We’ll definitely get to it over the weekend, for sure.”

Kate didn’t laugh at the joke. “Sure.” She said, turning back to the open book on her desk.

Max nodded, stepping away. She gave it her best shot. It's not like Max really expected to make some kind of difference here. Maybe Kate's just having an off day too. Man, what even was that dream? Max had never been afraid of storms before. So random. Whatever, it was probably nothing. She should just get out of here.

“…But I also want everybody to know that this photographic world is not for everybody.” Max caught Mr. Jefferson saying as she made her exit. “I had my moment in the camera eye, and everybody should have that chance, right?”

“Oh, totally.” Said Victoria, who had, of course, stayed after class to chat up their teacher. She didn’t waste a second kissing ass. “I only want to share whatever gifts I have with the world…”

She hastened her gait to pass by them.

“I see you, Max Caulfield,” Mr. Jefferson’s voice startled her as she had finally made it to the doorframe. “Don’t even think about leaving here until we talk about your entry.”

Max froze, then she willed herself to turn around and walk over to the desk when Mr. Jefferson and Victoria stood. She didn’t regard Victoria, she knew the only thing she would spot on her face was contempt. If only Max knew what Victoria's problem with her was, her life at Blackwell Academy would get fifty times easier.

“I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture.” Said the professor, as Max waddled up to him. 

The photo weighed heavy in her pocket. She had decided yet again to postpone turning it in. The last thing she wanted at the moment was for him and- God forbid- Victoria to look at her work. It wasn’t done. It wasn’t perfect. No one was allowed to see it yet. 

“I,” Max started, “I didn’t… have any time. To take it yet.” She shrugged. “Too much work.”

Victoria skimmed over her, impatient, probably hoping only for Max to leave. Max couldn’t agree more. Jefferson, on the other hand, looked displeased. “Max, you're a better photographer than a liar.”

And of course he saw right through her. Awesome. He can’t make me hand this crap in. She thought desperately to herself. It's an optional contest held by a gallery outside the state. The anxiety that had begun to abide returned in its ferocity.

“Now I know it's a drag to hear some old dude lecture you... but life won't wait for you to play catch-up.” He lectured. “You're young, the world is yours, blah blah blah, right? You can’t sit there and let chances and opportunities like this pass you by because you’re afraid.”

Max did not look at him.

“But you do have a gift,” he reiterated, “you have the fever to take images, to frame the world the way only you envision it. Now, all you need is the courage to share your gift with others. That's what separates the artist from the amateur.”

Max nodded, saying nothing, because she had nothing to say. Then she turned around, leaving the conversation behind her. 

The moment she opened the door, the clutter of the hallway hit her in a wave. 

“You didn’t tell me how cute I looked yet,” said Juliet, walking past her.

“I was about to,” said an athlete Max couldn’t recall the name of. “You always look cute.”

“Just cute?” Juliet spat with venom.

“Hot.” the athlete corrected.

The two of them passed her in the river of students. “Then I might send you a special picture during class…”

“Why would anybody want to carry around a dorky instamatic?” Came Courtney’s voice from against the lockers, where Max couldn’t see her. 

“Because Max wants everyone to see how hip she is.” Taylor responded.

“Oh please,” Said Courtney, “she’s such a pick-me. ‘Oooh I’m sooo shy’.”

A laugh. “Yeah, she’s sooo shy, she takes pictures with the biggest camera I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Mrs. Grant left her classroom and walked past her. Someone slammed their locker closed. She heard Daniel yelp somewhere down the hall.

“It was like, seventy five degrees the next day-“

“- nobody saw but me, I can swear-“

“-help me with my phone, and I can-“

“-I hate that class, it’s so fucking boring-“

Max squished herself between the wall and the lockers, like maybe she could be absorbed into it and never be seen again.

Overwhelmed. Grounding methods.

Max took the earbuds out of her bag and shoved them- rather forcefully- into her ears. She fumbled with her phone before plugging the ear jack into the bottom. 

It started playing the last song Max had been listening to without Max having to touch anything. It was a glitch these earbuds did every once in a while that she usually hated, but this time, was thankful for. She recognized the song, it was calming and canceled out everything else. Her thoughts were hers again. 

Max pushed off the wall. She was going to head to the bathroom now. Another grounding method was temperature. Freezing water usually shocked Max’s senses back into reality. If she could just do that and go back to her dorm and shut off for the day, that'd be great.

To all of you American girls, it’s so sad to imagine a world without you…

She started down the hallway.

Evan was standing with Alyssa, but neither of them were talking to one another. Ethan didn’t talk to Max, but she found his photos really cool. Maybe he had a chance at beating Victoria in this stupid contest. 

Alyssa filtered through something in her phone. Max thinks Alyssa must be texting ghosts, because she sees her text and call people all the time, but she’s never seen her talk to anyone. But, then again, who was Max to judge? At least Alyssa was able to get words out of her mouth.

American girls, I’d like to be part of the world around you…

Max passed her own locker, and was again reminded how she regretted buying one. They didn’t provide locks, and so, it was useless. The only things she had in here was a picture of her parents, and, of course, two of her photography heroes. But none of her schoolbooks.

Driving a car from the seaside…

She passed the girl who lived down the hall… Dana. And she thinks… Justin? They were talking, but with her earbuds in, she didn’t hear a word. The two of them were dating, as Max recalls. Dana was beautiful, an almost archetypical cheerleader character. 

Watching the world from the bright side… 

They must make them in a factory. Max thought to herself as she passed her.

Wait, no, that was rude. Dana was nice to Max. Across from her, Max passed Stella, sitting on the floor, flipping through her notes. Stella always seemed to be studying something- she did not come to Blackwell mess around. Max respected that. Now if only I could actually talk to her…

To all of you American Girls in the movies…

She then passed Brooke, who was tilting her phone left and right, like she was playing a video game. Max thinks she’s seen her hanging out with Warren. Max smiled. She seems like his type.

She saw Steph opening her locker. At least someone thought ahead to bring their own locks. Steph had some kind of figurine in there- a few of them, actually- but Max didn’t pry. She didn't know what they were for, but she often didn’t know what Steph was doing or talking about, anyway. 

No one can tell where your heart is…

As she went to keep walking, Logan bumped into her, and she stumbled back. He was pushing Daniel up against the lockers in what sounds like a not so nice interaction that Max better not mess with. 

Daniel was always nice, and Max hated jockstraps like Logan, but what was she going to do? Max might as well exist as a phantom for all the effect she had on the world and the people around her. 

American girls like dollies…

She passed the interaction, walking through the open double doors into another part of the school. She caught another missing persons poster out of the corner of her eye. 

With shiny smiles and plastic bodies…

The Rachel Amber posters were hung up all over the school. Max had never met her, and it sounded like she had been gone for months- but Max may as well have known her personally given how many posters she’s seen and how often people talk about her.

I wish I had an American Girlfriend…

Everything Max heard about Rachel was mixed- and Max heard a lot. Not because people told her about things, but because Max- …. 

Well, Max was a photographer. She watched and she waited for the perfect moment to strike, it was all about the perfect moment. The perfect moment to capture, the perfect moment to speak. But mostly, Max found herself waiting and watching. Which led to observing and overhearing more often than actually inserting herself into the situations she watched. Most called that being nosey and creepy, and maybe it was. That’s not what Max intended- but she often came off that way despite her best efforts. She knew more about her classmates than they certainly knew about her. 

And she knew a lot about Rachel Amber this way, too. Rachel was supposed to be in Max’s grade. Everyone who had been here before she disappeared had an opinion. She heard people call her a thespian, an actor. She heard people call her sweet and sensitive. And she heard people call her a backstabbing, cold hearted bitch. 

She was called fake, kind, beautiful, slutty- every descriptor in the book. And so, maybe Max didn’t know who she was. She had begun to suspect no one did. 

What she did know for sure is that she had been popular, and she had been gone for a while.

I cry sometimes, walking around my own place…

She carried on down the hallway and past the vending machine. They should just call it a sugar machine at this point, Max thought to herself as she glanced at the options. That would be awesome if you put money in there and a bag of sugar dropped out.

She smiled at her own inner dialogue. 

Wondering why she cries sometimes…

Hayden stood by the cork board, hanging up another Vortex Club party poster. 

END OF THE WORLD PARTY! It read, in big, bold letters. Did the world really need another Vortex Club party? Didn’t they just have one last week? Does that school club do literally anything else?

Talking about her own place…

She frowned in contempt. The Vortex Club was what was wrong with this school. The people in it- Hayden, Logan, Nathan, Taylor, Courtney, Victoria, who knows who else- she didn’t want anything to do with them. Bunch of jerks if you asked Max.

Though Hayden wasn’t a total ass. He was nice to her when they had to interact for any reason.

Somewhere around mountains…

She passed Juliet, talking to the athlete from earlier, and they were getting a little handsy. Max is pretty sure his name is Zachary. Figures Juliet would be dating somebody like that. Jocks like Zachary got sucked up into the Vortex Club like it was an actual vortex.

No one could dry her fountain…

Juliet was part of it too. She lived on Max’s floor as well, but Max couldn’t get a read on her. 

Max looked to Samuel, mopping the floor behind the couple, wondering if or when he was going to intervene on what looked like foreplay. 

Samuel did not look up. Fair enough.

Till she tries to complain…

She pushed open the door to the girl’s bathroom. She gave it a once over, looking for any stragglers.

Empty. She confirmed. Good. Nobody can see my meltdown but me.

That’s when I fly to the wildland, to your land.

She yanked the earbuds out of her ears and stuffed them back into her bag, then leaned over a sink. Her nerves were beyond frayed. Her heart had begun to calm thanks to the music. But at this point, she nearly expected someone to interrupt and kickstart her anxiety attack again. 

She looked up into the mirror and saw her reflection obscured by a crude drawing of glasses and a crown. Max attempted to wipe it off, but the ink was dry, and clearly had been marked some time ago.

I feel like the whole world is mocking me today, she thought. I haven’t had a second to catch my breath. Usually nobody pays any attention to me- even when I want them to. But today is so... Am I going crazy?

She turned on the faucet and let the water run. She stuck her finger underneath the stream until the water was freezing. Then she bent down and splashed the ice cold water onto her face. 

That did good to ground her. Her nerves were able to focus on the temperature, and the rest of her followed. Finally, Max started to feel like she fit her skin again. Her heartbeat was no longer banging in her ears. She took two long, deep breaths, ignoring how they hitched and shook. 

She looked at herself in the mirror again. Why did Mr. Jefferson pick on her like this? Max did what she did in every other class she had- spoke little, preformed a little better than good, and was able to fly under everyone's radar. Why was Mr. Jefferson different? Couldn’t he see he wasn’t helping? She appreciated that he saw potential in her, but if this is what potential looked like, she’d rather not have it at all.

She dug into her pocket, taking out the photo that was supposed to go to her teacher weeks ago. She held it above the sink.

She had been so confident when she had taken this picture. She remembered making sure the Max Memorial Wall was in perfect condition. She lined up the camera to sit perfectly behind her. The shutter snapped and Max looked at her masterpiece. Her magnum opus. And she hated it.

It was supposed to represent the duality of man, the many ways of being perceived, how no two people perceived anyone the same. The way everybody went about their lives leaving fake versions of themselves in other people's heads. The representation was lost when Max looked at the photo in her hands, and she thought she’d stew on it and hand it in the next day.

The next day came and somehow, Max woke up and hated her picture a little more. The lighting was off, she didn’t like how it turned out. She would retake it tomorrow.

Tomorrow came, and Max woke up hating it a little more. It wasn’t the lighting, it was the way it reflected off of her. Of her hair. It did Max’s mid brown hair no favors. Max stewed on what she could do to fix that the day after that.

The day after that came and Max hated the photo a little more. She thought that her being the model was the issue. Maybe she could bring someone else in, like Kate or Dana, and then her issues with the piece would be resolved. She thought she’d ask either of them the next next day.

The next next day came and Max finally figured out why she hated it so much. It was her. The photos on the wall, the selfies, they were so unprofessional. She’d never shown them to anyone before, and she realized she didn’t want anyone to see it. The anxiety about the deadline built and she procrastinated another day.

Today she woke up and went to class. Now she was looking at her photo in a bathroom, with no real reason for not handing it in. 

She thought to echo Mr. Jefferson. “Just relax,” she mimicked, “stop torturing yourself, don’t be afraid to be brave and show your work, what’s the worst that could happen? Don’t let life pass you by, you have… a ‘gift’.” 

What did he see in her, anyway? Max isn't anyone special, nothing she's ever done has been worthwhile or of any real consequence. She just kinda sits there and observes. She's as plain as they get. What's the fucking point?

The photo wasn't good enough yet. That was her reason. She hated it. It wasn’t good enough and it never would be, and there was no reason anyone should have to see it. 

Hatred built in her like gasoline to a fire, engulfing her in maddening self loathing. “Fuck it.”

She tore the photo in half forcefully, dropping it on the wet bathroom floor. Immediately, she regretted it. Now what was she going to turn in? Fuck everything. None of her work was ready for others to see. If she didn’t have anything good to say, she shouldn’t say it at all. Who would bother to listen? 

A new feeling of dread replaced the anxiety in her gut, deepening the longer she looked at herself.

Something like a flutter grabbed Max’s attention. 

She turned her head to the small window in the corner of the bathroom. Through it, flew a small blue butterfly. Max followed it with her eyes. It fluttered behind the stalls, and Max trailed after it before she could register herself moving. It was like the butterfly was pulling her in. 

She peered into the space between the stalls and the wall. The janitor’s tools rested here, next to a fire alarm. The butterfly rested on an empty, rusty metal bucket on the floor.

“As one door closes, a window opens, or something.” She thought aloud. “You don’t get a photo op like this every day, Max.”

Max kneeled down and pulled out her camera. The butterfly was brighter now that Max was closer to it. The moment felt almost calming- like the butterfly was soothing over Max's nerves, making her feel safe. It felt almost spiritual. And oddly... familiar? She wanted to capture this feeling forever.

Max clicked down on the shutter and the photo snapped, but the butterfly startled by it, and flew above her. Max waited for the photo to print and waved it dry. She stood up and admired her work.

She didn’t hate this. There was something about this photo she actually loved. She could see her reflection in the bucket, which was unprofessional, but the bright blue of the butterfly was unlike anything she had ever seen in nature. Selfishly, she didn’t want to turn this in for the contest, she wanted to keep it. 

The bathroom door opened loudly, like someone had kicked it open. It made Max flinch. Where she was standing, she was hidden from view of anyone who entered unless they came very close to her, so chances were, this girl didn’t know Max was here.

She peered around the stall wall and spotted someone leaning over the sink Max had been at earlier. The butterfly was resting two sinks over. The person was Nathan Prescott.

Holy fuck? What the fuck is the wealthiest person in Arcadia Bay doing in the girl's bathroom? Well, Nathan's family were the wealthy ones. Max grew up seeing the Prescott name on every street corner in this town. It had been kind of upsetting to "meet" Nathan and realize that family was a bunch of douches. Not that they've ever talked or anything. Nathan looked around the room in a flurry, and Max stayed out of his way on instinct.

He sighed shakily. “It’s cool Nathan,” he spoke to himself. “Don’t stress. You’re okay, bro. Just count to three.” He took another shaky breath, Max didn’t dare move. “Don’t be scared. You own this school. If I wanted, I could blow it up.”

Max wished she wasn't here. Blow up the huh now? She was not supposed to be here. This, Max could tell. But all she same, she couldn't bring herself to move. Shit. What's she supposed to do?

The door opened again. 

“So, what do you want?” Nathan spat.

Max couldn’t really see the girl who had entered behind Nathan. She walked down the line of stalls and opened each of them, if Max peered out now, she would be caught. 

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my stepass would say,” said the girl. Max vaguely recognized her voice, but she focused more on her words. Checked the perimeter? Okay, Max was definitely not supposed to be here. She stopped in the pursuit and returned to Nathan. “Now let’s talk bidness.”

“I got nothing for you.” Nathan said harshly, not looking up from his place standing over the sink. The butterfly was startled again from its resting place on one of the sinks, and it fluttered up and landed on one of the stall doors.

“Wrong.” Barked the girl, settling on one side of him. “You got hella cash.”

“That’s my family,” Nathan corrected sharply. “Not me.”

The girl circled him, settling on his other side. “Oh boohoo, poor little rich kid.” She grilled him. She had blue hair underneath a beanie, but Max couldn’t see her face because it was all up in Nathan’s. “I know you’ve been pumping drugs and shit to kids around here. I bet your respectable family would hear me out if I went to them.” She threatened. Holy shit, he was what? “Man, I can see the headlines now-“

“Leave them out of this, bitch!” Nathan snapped with a harshness that Max winced at. 

But the girl was not deterred. “I can tell everyone that Nathan Prescott is a punkass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself-“

Nathan moved to his jacket and for a blissful second, Max had no idea what he pulled out of his coat. Then he aimed it forward and Max can see it clear as day- a gun.

Nathan’s voice was shaking when he talked again. “You don't know who the fuck I am, or who you're messing around with!”

Max still could not see the girl’s face, but she stood straight up and put her hands where he could see them. “Where did you get that?” Her voice shook with a terror Max felt as well. “What are you doing? C’mon, put that thing down!”

Max felt her body jump into fight or flight. And for normal people, that would mean fighting or fleeing. But Max froze still in the moment of indecision, as she had done nearly every day for five years. Her whole life felt like one big hesitation.

“Don’t ever tell me what to do!” Nathan hissed. “I’m so sick of people trying to control me!”

Max wished she would move. She wished she didn’t always freeze like this. Oh god, what's happening? There's no way this is happening, right? What does she do?!

Nathan took a step forward, the girl took a step back. “You’re going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs.” She warned.

The girl’s back hit a wall, and Nathan kept approaching until he was pinning her there, the gun to her torso. “Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?”

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!” The girl shrieked. 

The bang of the pistol was louder than Max thought any gun could be as it rang about the room. Max did not recall moving, but she had stepped out of her hiding place and into the open- reaching her hand forward and shouting “No!” As if she could stop a bullet that had already pierced its target.

…Max often wished she could go back in time.

Not in a literal sense, but she often found herself wishing she could go back and redo an interaction. Because she had stayed quiet and missed an opportunity to speak. Because she had said the wrong thing and made somebody hate her. Because she had done the wrong thing and proved herself a fool to others' perception of her. 

The only time in her life in which she had wanted to go back and redo something more than in this exact moment was five years ago at her best friends’ father’s funeral. 

She only had a millisecond to even think it- I was too slow. If it had just moved a little bit before, if I had just said something, if I had just intervened, if I hadn’t been so afraid, I wasn't such a coward- and time slowed.

It felt sluggish around her, like the syrup she put on her morning pancakes. Thick, heavy, and slow. The gun clattered on the bathroom tiles. The girl fell sideways as red stained her abdomen, and Max was not frozen in fear. 

She almost hit the floor, and that’s when time rolled back. 

She could feel it being yanked backward, feel herself being thrown into a stream and blurred through time. When she yanked herself out of it-

“Alfred Hitchcock called the film ‘Little Pieces of Time’,” said Mr. Jefferson, standing in the circle of desks. “But he could be talking about photography, as he likely was.”

Woah whatthefuck-?!

Max blinked once. Then twice. Her head ached dull-ly. She was back in class. 

Victoria listened to the lecture with rapt attention. Taylor was on her phone. Stella’s pen fell to the floor as she swept her arm across her desk. She leaned down to pick it up. Dana wrote something down in her open notebook.

What?

Nothing computed in her head. Why was she here? Again? She was just in the bathroom. This all already happened.

“These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow,” Mr. Jefferson continued. “From light to shadow, from color to chiaroscuro,”

Max knew what happened next. Kate got hit with-

Taylor threw a small paper ball across the classroom, and it hit Kate Marsh in the shoulder. She barely flinched.

That’s right. She thought. Then Victoria’s phone rings. 

“Now, can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?” Mr. Jefferson lectured into the open space. Max had heard him say this already. “Anybody?” Mr. Jefferson prompted. “Bueller?”

Victoria’s phone vibrated, Max flinched so violently she knocked her camera off her desk, and the lenses shattered on the floor.

Shit.

“Daiane Arbus.” Said Victoria, not letting her eyes off the teacher for a second.

Oh my holy fucking shit. Max gawked to herself. That’s the exact shit Victoria already said. 

“There you go, Victoria!” Mr. Jefferson brightened. “Why Arbus?”

This all already happened. She thought to herself. I’m crazy. I’m insane. 

“Because of her images of hopeless faces.” Victoria recited, like she had memorized the textbook. “You could feel, like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children.”

I just reversed time. Did I just fucking reverse time?

“She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it's bullshit.”

Max looked down at her camera. Can I do it again?

The class teetered with the utterance of the curse, out of place in the mouth of a teacher. “Shh, keep that to yourself.” Mr. Jefferson said conspiratorially. “Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious?”

She reached out a hand toward the floor. She recalled the last time it happened. She made a mistake. She wanted to go back and redo it. There was a stream of time, right at her fingertips. She could feel it, actually feel it.

Max felt for it again, and she tugged. 

Again, time blurred around her and she pulled back on it. She let go, and the camera sat perfectly fine on her desk.

“Daiane Arbus.” Said Victoria again, not letting her eyes off the teacher for a second.

Max gawked at her. Am I the only one seeing this? Everything and everyone is repeating themselves and I’m doing it on purpose. 

This was real. This was real. Max reversed time. 

“There you go, Victoria!” Mr. Jefferson brightened. “Why Arbus?”

Only then, did Max begin to feel real enough to feel the anxiety. Don’t. She told herself. Don’t freak out. Have I been drugged? Have I been fucking drugged? I totally have, haven’t I? What the fuck-?

“Because of her images of hopeless faces.” Victoria recited, like she had memorized the textbook. “You could feel, like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children.”

When I took a selfie, Max thought, Jefferson asked me a question. If he does it again, I’ll know for sure that this is real and I’m not going insane.

“She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly, it's bullshit.”

Max took the camera off her desk and pointed it at herself.

The class teetered with the utterance of the curse, out of place in the mouth of a teacher. “Shh, keep that to yourself.” Mr. Jefferson said conspiratorially. “Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation. And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious?”

Max pressed the shutter down and Mr. Jefferson looked right at her, and shushed the class. “I believe Max has taken what you kids call a ‘selfie’.” He said, just as Max remembered. “A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition. And Max... has a gift.”

Her eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. 

I’m not dreaming this. Max thought, almost absently. This is real. Oh my fucking God. If I went back in time… If I’m here… Max thought slowly. Then maybe that girl isn’t dead yet. I could step in this time. I could save her. I need to leave.

“… the process that gave birth to the first self portraits?” Mr. Jefferson was asking.

“I’m sorry,” said Max, “but I really need to use the restroom.”

“Nice try, Max.” Said Jefferson, unimpressed, “But you're not gonna get away that easy. We can talk more after class.”

Shit, he wants to hold me after class? Max thought in alarm. But that girl- why did I say that? That wasn’t the right thing. If I had just said the right answer, maybe I could’ve-

But she can go back and give him the right answer. 

Max held her hand up, and pulled at time again. It warped around her, and she yanked herself out of the stream. 

“… can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?” Mr. Jefferson asked again.

Max steadied herself. She fucking did it again. Holy fucking God. 

She shook her head. What has Victoria said earlier? “The uh…” she started, “The Daguerreian Process. Invented by a French painter named...Louis Daguerre. Around 1830.”

Mr. Jefferson beamed in surprise. “Somebody has been reading, as well as posing. Nice work, Max.”

Victoria shot Max a nasty look, but Max didn’t pay attention to her. She- she changed things. She did something different and it had a different outcome. Like actual time travel shit. She just fucked with time. 

“The Daguerreian Process made portraiture hugely popular, mainly because it gave the subjects clear defined features.” Mr. Jefferson carried on. “You can learn more when you actually finish reading the assigned chapters. Max is so far, way ahead of everybody.”

The bell rang, and urgency rushed through her veins. She needed to leave now.

“And, guys, don't forget the deadline to submit a photo in the ‘Everyday Heroes’. Contest.” Jefferson talked over the bustle of the class. Max shoved her things into her bag, not caring what went where. “I will fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be feted by the art world. It's great exposure and it can kickstart a career in photography. So Stella and Alyssa, get it together. Taylor don't hide, I'm still waiting for your entry too. And yes Max, I see you pretending not to see me.”

She swung her bag over her shoulder, and followed a beat behind the crowd.

“I see you, Max Caulfield.” Mr. Jefferson called as she reached the door- again. “Don't even think about leaving here until we talk about your entry.”

Max whipped her head around. Right now?  

The professor kept his eye on Max until she caved, walking over to talk to him. Victoria looked annoyed by her appearance, but again, Max paid her no mind.

“I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture.” He said as she approached. 

Max tugged on her bag strap. “I’m not avoiding, I’m just…”

“Biding time, waiting for the elusive ‘right moment’?” Mr. Jefferson guessed.

Max brightened. “Yes, exactly.” For all his pushing, Max admitted that Mr. Jefferson understood her quite well. Max hadn’t been sure how to put it into words, but he had done it for her. That’s exactly what she was doing- waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the right thing to submit- the right thing to say. Because if you didn’t have it right, why bother to show it at all? She’d only be mocked.

Jefferson shook his head. “Max, don't wait too long. John Lennon once said that ‘Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.’ If you wait forever, you’ll miss the opportunity to say anything at all, and you’ll spend the rest of your time in regret.”

Max swallowed.

“Go on now, don't let me stop you.” Mr. Jefferson finished. 

Max swallowed, the words stung worse than she could have thought. She can never say the right thing with this guy. Maybe... okay, it might've been a bad idea, but if Max really can rewind time, maybe she can rewind here and tell Mr. Jefferson what he wants to hear? Is it that bad if she wants her favorite teacher to like her?

Hesitantly, Max reached out a hand, feeling for the stream of time like she had before. Then, she yanked backward.

"--let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture.” Jefferson was saying as time slowed to a stop.

"I'm on it." Max answered quickly. "I think it was John Lennon who once said ‘life is what happens while you're busy making other plans'."

Mr. Jefferson regarded her, pleasantly surprised. "Max, you're on fire today! All the right answers. Good. Make sure you finish working on it by today. I have faith in you."

Max brightened at the praise, even under the withering gaze of Victoria. "Thank you, Mr. Jefferson." Come on, get it together, people are dying! "I'll see you tomorrow!" she said in a rush, backing away and heading for the door. She threw it open as fast as she could and entered the hallway.

Jesus Christ, she thought to herself, not bothering to bring out her earbuds this time, I have to have enough time to get to the bathroom. I have to. I have to.

She tore through the hallway. They’d all think I’m crazy, she thought vaguely to herself. 

She caught wind of several conversations and she sprinted down the hall-

“I'm serious. I couldn't even get off the couch.” Said Justin, leaned up against the lockers.

“When can you?“ Dana replied, looking at her phone. 

“When I have to get my education on. And see you.”

“Shit Mikey, if you wanted to play with the whole set, then you should come back to Blackwell.” Steph talked into a cell phone. “I can’t bring everything to your house, there’s a lot of stuff!…”

“Yo, Daniel,” called Logan, “you remember that it's payday?”

“Yeah, payday,” replied another man, unenthusiastically.

“I know you didn't forget you owe us cash.” Logan sneered.

Daniel was against the lockers, cowering. “I forgot for what…”

Brooke sat on the floor, playing something on her phone, “Oh, come on, baby, hold it together... Take that corner... Ooh, shit! Sorry, farmers. Come on, shift it! Get out of my way, Ferrari, si? Almost there... Third place? That's bullshit! Grand Pricks!”

“Don't even tease me.” An athlete- Zachary?- hissed.

“You know I don’t tease.” Replied Juliet.

Max threw open the door of the bathroom. 

Okay, Max, she thought to herself, retrace every step.

She walked over to the sink, turning the tap on. She didn’t bother to wait until it was cold, and splashed it on her face. It felt more uncomfortable than grounding, now. She stepped back, tearing the photo in her pocket in half, and let it fall to the floor. 

Then the butterfly….

Through the open window, the brilliant blue butterfly fluttered in, flying in the exact pattern it had before. It felt surreal, but Max followed it just as she did last time, until it was over the bucket.

Then the photo. Max pulled the camera out of her bag and framed the butterfly in her lens. Then she pressed the shutter down, and scared it off. 

She waited. Nothing battered through the door. Max stood up and shook out the photo. It looked just as beautiful as it had before. Nathan didn’t enter.

Anxiety shot through her like someone had injected her with a needle. What happened? Was she too late? She got a second chance and she already fucked it up somehow?

She paced quietly, back and forth. What if they came in and noticed her? What if Max got shot with the gun instead? Why did she even- what was she going to do? Jump in? How was she even going to-?!

The bathroom door slammed open, and Nathan Prescott leaned over the sink. 

He talked to himself again in low tones, and Max began to panic. Shit- what now? Did she talk to him?

The girl came in, she was wearing a punk leather jacket- Max hadn’t noticed that before.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my stepass would say,” the girl said again, “now let’s talk bidness.”

Max covered her mouth and stayed still. Shit shit shit- what could she do to change this? 

“I got nothing for you.”

“Wrong, you got hella cash.”

“That’s my parents, not me.”

“Oh boohoo! Poor little rich kid! I know you’ve been pumping drinks and shit to kids around here. I bet your respectable family would hear me out if I went to them.” She threatened. “Man, I can see the headlines now-“

“Leave them out of this, bitch!”

At his tone, Max stepped back. The janitor’s cart was right behind her.

“I can tell everyone that Nathan Prescott is a punkass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself-“

The gun was out. “You don’t know who the fuck I am, or who you’re messing around with!”

The fire alarm was right behind the janitor’s- wait, that’s it, she could pull it. 

“Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!”

Max tried to pry the fire alarm lock off, but the glass was stubborn- it didn’t budge. 

“Don't ever tell me what to do. I'm so sick of people trying to control me!”

She needed something to bust it open. But what? She looked through the Janitor’s cart for answers. 

“You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs-“

She found a hammer and grabbed it as fast as she was physically able to. She swung it back-

“Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, would they?”

-and slammed it against the glass. It broke, and Max grabbed on the alarm and yanked it down.

The sudden blaring of the alarm made her jolt. She heard more than saw the girl push Nathan away.

“Don’t ever touch me again, freak!” She shrieked. The door opened and closed, and Max assumed she had made her exit. 

Alive.

“Another shitty day,” Nathan hissed to himself. The door opened and closed again, and Max had to assume Nathan had left too.

For a few brief seconds, Max stood there, the fire alarm the only thing that went in or out of her head.

She just… reversed time… saw Nathan Prescott murder someone in the girls bathroom, and then saved her. 

Max took her time, heaving a few deep breaths in and then out. Time moved sluggish around her, and Max wondered if she was doing that intentionally. She expected herself to be much more panicked about this than she was, but to be truthful, Max wasn’t sure she was even processing the events of the day.

Max came out of her hiding spot and left the bathroom. 

She thought that maybe her nerves were so overwhelmed, she wouldn’t be able to be anxious for the rest of the day. Immediately after opening the door, she ran into the head security officer and was proven wrong.

David Madson regarded her with suspicion, as he tended to do with just about everything and everyone as far as Max could tell. All Max really knew about the head of security was that she wanted to avoid him. And that he had been kicked out of the army or something. But that was just a rumor. (Though, she could see it).

“Hey, do you hear that fire alarm?” He barked. “That means you should be outside.”

Max kept her eyes on the floor- she was burnt out. The world didn’t want her to have a breather today, did it?

“I had to use the bathroom.” Max explained.

“Girls always use that excuse.” He sneered.

Excuse me? Max thought. “Excuse for what?”

“For whatever you're up to.” He said, “Your face is covered in guilt.”

“That’s just my face,” said Max. She had never been very expressive, especially when she was panicking. Her mother always told her that Max had a kind of poker face, where she could never tell when she needed help. “and plus, the alarm tripped me out.”

“Then trip on out of here, missy.” Madson growled. He narrowed in on her, and for a moment she thought he might whip out a pair of handcuffs and arrest her in the middle of the hallway. “Or are you hiding something? Huh?”

“Thank you Mr. Madsen,” a voice boomed from the principal’s office. Principal Wells looked unimpressed. “the situation is under control. There's no emergency here. Leave Miss Caulfield alone and please turn off that alarm, since that's your job.”

Madson looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. In fact, he didn’t spare Max another glance as he stalked off in the other direction. Max watched and waited until she couldn’t see the security officer anymore. When he was gone, she allowed herself to relax. That guy was always acting like either someone had committed a crime or was planning one.

She scurried toward the principal as he beckoned her over. “You look a little stressed out,” he remarked. Max wondered how exactly the stress looked on her. “Are you okay?”

Absolutely not, no. “I'm…” Max flubbed, “I'm just a little worried about my... future.”

This only seemed to arouse more suspicion from Wells. “You're sweating pinballs.” He remarked. Was she? The principal had so much power over her enrollment and scholarship that she got instantaneously nervous around him. “Is that all you're thinking about? You can always be upfront with me, Max.”

He took a step forward. He was close enough that Max could smell alcohol on his breath. Or maybe that was just his cologne…? “Or have you done something wrong? Is that it?” When Max didn’t respond, he raised an eyebrow. “Well, Max? Talk to me.”

Truthfully, Max had never had a real reason to talk to the principal in length, not since her enrollment. Wells had gone out of his way to make Max feel special and talented that day, saying that she had a real eye and that he hoped she would return the favor to Blackwell after she graduated. But since then, she got the feeling that he didn’t like her. When he did actually talk to her, it was always with the air of suspicion. And she’s seen him talking and laughing with other students and teachers, so she knows he has a problem with her specifically. She wondered what she’d done to make him dislike her, but that could be anything. 

"Uh, uh, nothing." Max stuttered reflexively.

"Forgive my disbelief, but you look too flustered for it to be nothing." Wells repeated with suspicion.

"Um, I don't know." Max mumbled, hating the sudden interrogation. "I just-- you know. girl trouble. I had to use the bathroom. It happens."

"You can trust me, Max." He insisted. "Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on!" Max replied hastily. "I just feel a little sick."

Wells sighed, taking a step back. "There's that teen 'tude again. You know, I've heard enough. Don't think I don't know what goes on around here. You've only been here for three weeks and you're already causing conflict. I don't think your parents will approve when they find out. Now get outside with the class. Please."

Max frowned, worrying her bottom lip and taking a step away from him. Just great. Max's natural instinct in conflict is to completely fawn-- bow her head until it passes over. It's so drilled in her that she doesn't even recognize it when it's happening, but it happens enough that she's always beating herself up for not acting when she totally could've. Looks like this trait wasn't all to helpful here either. This is one of those "what if" moments where Max wished life had an undo button. Except... wait, does it?

Max is here on scholarship, so she didn't have the luxury to be on the principal's bad side. No doubt she had only made Wells suspicious of her, but if she said something about Nathan now, Wells would just get more suspicious. So... maybe it would be okay if she used her mysterious time power again? She didn't know anything about it or how it worked; there could be negative side effects, it could be temporary, it could already be gone, she didn't know! But... It would make her whole life easier if she did it anyway.

Hesitantly, Max reached out and felt for the flow of time. To her surprise, she could still feel it! She sorta figured she'd gotten these powers just so she could save that girl, but apparently not. She yanked time back. After a moment of rewinding, she let go.

“Well, Max? Talk to me.” Wells was saying.

Max lowered her voice in case Madson was nearby. “I just saw Nathan Prescott waving a gun around in the girls room.” She told him. It felt good to say it aloud.

“Nathan Prescott?” He repeated, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She exhaled. “He was in the bathroom talking to himself with a gun. I saw everything! He was babbling like crazy-!”

“Okay, slow down, slow down.” Wells said, ushering her down with his hands. Did she sound hysteric? “So now- you saw this... without him seeing you?”

Max noticed the suspicion in his tone. Did he seriously not believe her? She knew he didn’t like her, but he wouldn’t just disregard all of this, would he? “I was hiding behind a stall.” She explained. “I have the right to be there. It's the girls' room.”

“I know, I know. I just want to be completely clear what happened.” He explained. He sounded stressed. But again, he always looked stressed to Max. But she would be too if she were in charge of Blackwell. “Mr. Prescott happens to be from the town's most distinguished family. And one of Blackwell's most honored students. So it's hard for me to see him brandishing a weapon in the girls' bathroom.” He leaned in. “So, what happened next?”

“Then…” Max continued. Should she mention the girl? She was suddenly wary about how this information was going to be used. Would the girl be safe if Max mentioned her? “Then he left. I ran out here wondering what to do.” She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Are you going to bust him?”

“This is a serious charge.” Wells said warily. “I’ll look into the matter personally. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

“That’s it?” Max gawked. “After what I just told you?”

“We'll continue this discussion, later, in my office.” Wells dismissed. Max sighed in exhaustion. “Please go outside with the rest of your class now, Miss Caulfield.”

Max turned to the doors, dragging her feet as she walked out. Of course this academic drone won't do anything, since the Prescott family owns Blackwell now. Should she not have said that? Was that a mistake? She may have just painted a target on her back for Nathan to shoot at. Max could rewind now, save herself the trouble she may have just caused. Oh, but if she doesn't say anything, she's in trouble anyway! Shit, now what?

But Max would be more scared if she told no one. If Nathan could just walk around with a gun wherever he wanted- at least something could be done about it now. But even if something was done, Nathan was wealthy and powerful, couldn’t he just get another one? His family could kick her out of school… she would have to keep a low profile for now. She had clearly worsened herself in Well’s eyes, and made herself a target in Nathan’s. She wondered what she could to regain the principals trust, or if she had tarnished it forever? Maybe this had been a mistake.

She continued to wrestle with the decision as she walked out the double doors and into the quad. As expected, no one was following the fire drill regulations. It looked like everyone had gone back to their dorms or decided to lay around in the grass. 

Max could relate- she didn’t feel like going back inside either. And besides, her classes were over for the day anyway. She stood there a moment, and took in the windy autumn day. 

The leaves had begun to change color and fall from the trees now that it was October, but the grass in the quad remained green. She strode down the concrete steps. 

“Would Nathan Prescott please come to the front office? Thank you.” Boomed the principal’s voice from the speakers. At least it appeared something was being done. Was it too late to rewind? Nathan would have her ass if he ever found out it was her that reported him. She prayed Wells would keep his mouth shut. 

Littered on the floor were more missing persons posters for Rachel Amber. She was really pretty. Gorgeous, even. Max wondered what happened to her, even though it was none of her business, really. People talked about her like she was still here, Max couldn’t help but be curious. 

The white trees loomed over the benches, providing shade. Max could probably sit down and catch her breath there, if she wanted. She kept walking until she approached the statue of Jerimiah Blackwell, and sat down on the side of the fountain around him. She took a deep breath. 

This day had been so insane, she thought to herself. Everything is happening too fast. And none of it makes any sense. The vision of the storm, this… reverse power… I keep expecting to wake back up in class again.

Though, this didn’t feel like a dream anymore. Which meant, somehow, she did rewind time. 

The girl was okay. Max did good.

Though she couldn’t help but wonder, how did she get this power? And why? Why Max? She was... no one. 

She opened her journal- another grounding tactic. As the wind brushed her hair from her face, Max scribbled down the events of the day into a blank page. Max hadn’t really written in it since she moved back here. 

The last few pages are her cataloging how excited she was to be going to Blackwell. How she promised her mother that she’d try to make more friends. How she had tried. How she failed over and over. This was the reason Max had given up trying, she guessed.

She needed to tell somebody about this, and who better than an inanimate object? The only living person Max would think of that she could trust with this… she hadn’t seen in five years. Maybe she could try Warren? He usually tried to understand her.

As Max wrote, she detailed her day. She fumbled her description of her powers, but that’s the best thing about writing in a diary. She could say whatever she wanted. She was the only person who was ever going to read it. If what she said didn’t make sense, who cared? It was only Max who would ever see it, and she knew what she meant. And Max could take as long as she wanted to say whatever she needed.

She thought as she wrote. Until she figured out what the hell was going on, she should stay on the down low. Not that she ever really had problems with that. She just needed to focus on school and homework before doing anything else rash.

As she doodled along the margins, she felt herself calm down after the last hour of stress. Now that it was all down on paper, it felt more real. Max figured that now that she was free of stress for the time being, she should head back to her dorm. 

She stood up and headed in the direction, but was stopped by Mrs. Grant. 

“Excuse me, Max?” She called. Mrs. Grant was a clear authority figure, but the way she spoke and held herself made her feel approachable, so Max didn’t think she was in trouble.

Max waved and walked up to her. “I know everybody loves being asked to sign a petition, but would you do Ms. Grant a favor and hear me out?” She asked.

Max blinked. Petition? “Oh.” She said. “Sure. About what?” 

“David Madsen, our chief of security, wants to put surveillance cameras all around the campus.” She explained. “Halls, classrooms, gym, dorm rooms, et cetera. Blackwell Academy should be a high school, not a high security penitentiary.”

Max’s eyes widened. Though, that didn’t surprise her, considering it was coming from David Madson. After what she saw from him today, she could believe something like that coming from him. 

“That's crazy.” She said. “I get why schools should be on high alert these days,” especially considering what wonders that would do for her alibi against Nathan in the bathroom today and Rachel’s disappearance, “but cameras in the dorm rooms?“ that was just plain creepy. 

“It's a slippery slope.” Mrs. Grant agreed. “And it's up to you and your classmates to stand up here. Blackwell Academy has a noble heritage, from the Native Americans who founded this land, to the pioneers who shared it in peace, not fear and violence.”

“The… Native Americans?” Max asked.

“The tribes who were here first, who welcomed the settlers.” Mrs. Grant explained. “Both cultures found a mutual symbiosis and thrived.”

Max bit her lip. She highly doubted that the white settlers were welcomed. They were taught that the native American tribes “welcomed” Christopher Columbus in history class, too. But judging Mrs. Grant’s joyous expression, Max wisely decided not to bring this up. She nodded.

“Now before I assign you homework with this lecture, will you please sign the petition to keep our campus from going back to 1984?” She offered the paper forward.

Max nodded again. “Absolutely.” She agreed, taking the paper from her. “I don't mind security, but not… pure surveillance.”

Mrs. Grant smiled over her as Max scratched her name on the list. “I knew you were my favorite new student at Blackwell for a good reason.”

Max looked back up as she handed the petition back. She was one of Mrs. Grant’s favorites? She wanted to ask about that, but the science teacher was already flagging down another student to talk too, leaving Max on her own.

That interaction went well for Max. They usually didn’t. Though, Mrs. Grant wasn’t her peer. 

Though, now that Max could rewind, she realized she didn’t really have to worry so much about that anymore, did she? If she messed up in a conversation, she could just rewind and try again. Find the right thing to say through trial and error.

As Max thought it, she meant for it to be a joke, but it dawned on her that she could actually do that. She could learn to talk to the other students using this power as a crutch. She could actually figure out how to talk to them. 

She looked around her to the students laying around the quad. Max could figure out exactly how to talk to each of these people. She could navigate her way around the social sphere through trial and error. She could learn and get used to it and by the time she figured it out, she could… she would be able to say all the right things when she saw Chloe again.

It had been looming over her head ever since she got her acceptance letter. She had been putting it off, putting it off, for the same reasons she didn’t hand her photo in. She didn’t know what to say.

It was such a simple reason, but it aroused such terror in Max that she couldn’t even attempt it. Chloe used to mean so much to Max, and vice versa. And Max… she had left. What was there she could say to Chloe that would make any of that okay? She couldn’t even fathom the words.

Max had been stewing over it for a while, even wrote it down a few times, but still, had nothing. Well, nothing adequate. Nothing that would reach Chloe’s ears. Nothing good enough. 

If there was something Max could do to find the words… It wasn’t an abuse of power if all she was doing was learning to figure out how to make nice with people, right? She wasn’t hurting anyone. 

Besides, she needed to figure out how to do this if she was ever going to find the courage to reach out to Chloe. There was no way she could do it now and not mess it up. It was just a… a little practice session. Yeah. 

Max resolved to use the power only when she desperately needed to save her ass. And this totally counts as saving. nothing needs more help than Max's social life.

She looked around the campus. Everyone was outside, hanging around or walking home. A few familiar places were scattered around the green area. A group of people surrounded Hayden under a tree, a few people walked down the street from the bus stop, and Max spotted Brooke standing with a remote in her hands nearby.

That was a perfect place to start. Max thought Brooke was really cool, but was pretty sure she had done something to make Brooke hate her. She isn’t sure what it was, but she wanted to rectify it somehow. Every day that passed when Max still had no idea what to say to her, she felt like it got worse.

She hesitated- approaching her was anxiety inducing, but she reminded herself that if she made any mistakes, she would just reverse it. The safety net made her more confident as she walked up to Brooke.

She heard a buzz overhead and looked up. It wasn’t a bee or a wasp like she almost thought it was- it was a small drone, hovering around Brooke and flying about the campus. Max hadn’t noticed it before, which was unusual for her. Max was used to noticing before approaching. 

She waved at the girl until she looked back up at her. “Hi, Brooke.” She said.

She gave Max a stink eye. “Let me guess,” she said flatly. “You want to fly my drone?”

Max was startled by the blatantness of the statement. What made her think that?

“Uh,” Max pondered, “not… really?” She said hesitantly. “Don’t you need a license for those?”

Brooke shook her head. “Not this kind. It’s perfectly legal. Nobody knows about it yet.”

“Oh.” Said Max lamely. No one in Blackwell, or no one on earth? She wondered. “Aren’t those considered weapons of war?” She asked, trying to keep the flow of the conversation. 

“Uh, you read too many conspiracy sites.” Brooke scoffed. “This might be too complicated for you. Funny, Warren said you were smart.” She shooed Max with her hand. “Please, step back.”

Max backed up when prompted, and Brooke went back to ignoring her. It stung, Max knew immediately what went wrong- she insulted the drone.

Damn it, she scolded herself. That's not what I meant to do. I was just curious. 

No, I was being nosey again.

She sighed. Well, Max had anticipated this. What else could she say instead? Max walked around Brooke, keeping a distance as she ignored her. She spotted her backpack laying in the grass behind her. It was nerdy- Max thinks Warren has the same one. Peeking out of it was a box that read “HiFly Drone; B400 EVO”. Now that was a complicated name.

Max’s eyes widened. If she said that to Brooke, proved that she knew what she was talking about, would she have a different reaction? Max raised her hand and rewound until she was standing in front of Brooke again.

“Let me guess,” Brooke scoffed once more, “you want to fly my drone?”

“Uh, no thanks.” Max repeated. “Not that it doesn’t look cool. That’s a uh, a HiFly drone, model...B400 EVO? Now that's a nice piece of tech.”

Brooke lit up when Max mentioned the name. “You're full of surprises.” She chirped. “Why would you know that?”

“Oh,” Max stuttered, “I love aerial photography. Drones are perfect for that, especially those with great range. It's a new era of images.”

Brooke looked her up and down, nodding. “Most impressive, Max. Warren said you were multi-faceted. You sure you don’t give the drone a whirl around campus?” She offered.

Max smiled. “That sounds awesome, but I don’t want to mess it up for you.” 

Brooke shrugged. “Suit yourself.”  She turned back to what she was doing and Max turned away. That was a good interaction. A successful interaction. Does she think better of me now? She wondered.

She felt good about it either way. She felt alleviated. All she had needed was a second chance to gather information and come back, and the interaction was successful. Max took a mental note of that and looked elsewhere.

As she walked down the concrete, she spotted Hayden laying in the grass again, surrounded by a few people she couldn’t recall the names of. Should she bother him? He was the least terrible Vortex Club member she knew. But there were other people around him…

Max stood up straighter and walked over anyway. She had a safety net.

“Hey, Hayden.” she greeted.

Hayden looked up through thick eyelashes and took a second to recognize her. “There she is, the retro-selfie master.”

Max smiled. At least she had made an impression on him. “That's me, alright.” She confirmed. “You look relaxed as usual, Hayden.”

He shrugged. “It's a skill one cultivates at Blackwell. Especially when one represents the Vortex Club. Not to boast.”

“What the hell is the Vortex Club anyway?” She asked. And of course Max knew of it, but she hadn’t yet gotten the chance to actually ask someone who was in it. “Seems so elitist.”

Hayden looked her up and down looking vaguely confused. Momentarily, Max wondered if she had messed up again, the way she had with Brooke when she insulted her drone when she had just meant to show interest. 

But Hayden’s hesitation only lasted a second or two. “Only if you're not cool enough to get in.” He chuckled. “It’s been around at Blackwell since like… the seventies, I think. I don’t think we do much else other than hang and throw killer parties. And it doesn't hurt your resume.”

“If you say so.” Max said, as cautiously as she could.

“I do.” Said Hayden. “You should actually come hang with us one night. Then you wouldn't be so inclined to gossip to find out what’s what.”

Max almost went to defend herself, but she figured that was true enough. When she wasn’t observing, she was asking questions, always inclined to know about what was going on around her. She wasn’t sure if that was how photography had reflected onto her daily life, or if photography was a reflection of what had already been there. 

“I don't think you’d want me there,” she declined. “I'm not exactly Miss. Party.”

“That's because you haven't partied with us.” Hayden continued. “Even Victoria’s pretty funny when she's baked.”

Really? It’s not like that was something Max could dispute- she’d never seen Victoria high. “It seems weird to think about partying with all those Rachel Amber posters up.” She said instead. 

“You're high.” Hayden scoffed. “Rachel used to hang out with us too. She was a blast. Smart, not bitchy like… you know.”

She did know. “Victoria?” She guessed. “Did she like Rachel? She seems like the jealous type.”

“Don't think you know Victoria so well.” Hayden warned. “She respected Rachel, even if she didn't act like it.” 

Max nodded. “So you knew Rachel Amber?” 

“I knew she liked to party.” He laughed. “Fun to be around. Oh yeah, and she was hot.”

That, Max knew. “Was she part of the Vortex Club too?” She asked.

Hayden shook his head. “Nah. Rachel was like her own club. She was actually too cool for us. And I'll deny I ever said that.”

“Wow, really?” Max asked. That was one more person on the ‘positive opinion on Rachel’ column. “I’m assuming she was friendly with the Vortex Club, at least.”

“As much as she could be, I guess.” Hayden surmised. “We aren’t exactly super chummy. But she got along with basically everyone at Blackwell. Even Nathan.”

“For reals?” She asked. “Isn’t he kind of…?”

She trailed off, and Hayden picked up. “Oh, please. Nathan is like everybody's voodoo doll. ‘Kill the rich kid’!” He called. “He's alright, and a fun guy to hang with. Fuck the haters.”

Max didn’t think to the bathroom, she didn’t want to think about it again. “I guess that’s fair.” She lied. “but I'm still not going to party with him.”

“Your loss. Bro is fucking hilarious when he's blazed. And he always has the best shit.”

A girl beside Hayden flipped a page of her book and shared the view with him. “Now, I have to get my chemical on and study.” He said back at Max. “We should get you and Dana out one night, you’d have a blast. It’s always fun to see someone get stoned for the first time.”

Max shrugged and took a step back. “Uh, maybe. Nice chatting with you, Hayden."

Hayden turned back to his notes and Max walked away. She would rather drink Bay water than attend a Vortex party, but she didn’t need to tell that to Hayden. 

That went well, probably. At least, Max couldn’t think of anything she needed to change.

She scanned the green area again. There was a girl from her class- Stella- standing by one of the large photo boards that were littered though the quad. They used to showcased student work, but ever since Mr. Jefferson started teaching here last year, it had displayed his most famous works instead. Max couldn't blame Wells for the change, Mr. Jefferson was really talented, she would've wanted to show that off too.

Max thought Stella would be a good candidate to talk to. She seemed like she was down for a bit of small talk, even though she was always super busy with clubs and homework. Max made her way over, and Stella looked up from her phone to regard her. 

“Hey there, Stella.” She greeted.

“Hey, I know you!” She remarked. “You're the new quiet girl in Jefferson's class. Isn't he incredible?”

Max shrugged. “I'm not sure yet,” she decided. “I mean, he's clearly a genius. But I don't agree with everything he says. He's kind of… aloof. He seems like he's always above you, not like a snob, but like you don't know what's in his head.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I wish I knew what was in his head. He always picks on me in class.”

“I wish he did that to me.” Stella smirked. “Mr. Jefferson has his own style. He does get a bit pretentious, but that’s because he's passionate and just, like, says whatever he thinks. It’s kind of cool, isn’t it?” Stella thought aloud. “I wish I was that confident.”

Max sighed. “Yeah. I do too. I do think he’s very talented.” Max relented. “We’re lucky to have such a famous teacher.”

“Right?!” Stella chirped. “His New York urban stuff is great, but I'm glad he came back to his Oregon roots. Screw the East Coast elite. It must piss off those pretentious galleries that Mark Jefferson is teaching photography to us Blackwell hicks.” She leaned in closer. “Plus, he is pretty hot for an older guy. If Victoria wasn't all over him, I would definitely make a move.”

Max scoffed in disgust, though she hoped it came across as playful. “No way.” She said, “You can get him so busted. And he's not going to mess around with a student.”

Stella crossed her arms with a smug grin. “That's what you think.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked.

“You have a lot to learn here at Blackwell.” Stella sighed. “Rachel Amber absolutely had sex with him. Well, I heard that from a good source.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. Was that actually true? “So, you knew Rachel?”

“Not really.” She shook her head. “I saw her hanging with the other cool kids, like Victoria. Not my kind of clique. But I’ve heard insane stories about her.”

“Like she slept with a teacher?” Looks like another person to add to the ‘negative opinion on Rachel’ column.

“How’d you guess?” She joked.

Max smiled. “See, you learn something new every day at school.”

“Like I said, you have a lot to learn, Max.” Stella reiterated. “See you in class.”

Max pulled away, sensing the conversation had ended. That went well, Max thought. It absolutely could have been worse, at least. Stella was chatty, but nice. Maybe they could be friends if her confidence kept up and she could actually keep talking to Stella.

This was going amazing so far- she only had to use her rewind once, and that was on Brooke, who already didn’t like her. With that safety net in place, she felt confident to talk to almost anyone.

Max got closer to the edge of the green, she heard loud punk music blasting from a portable speaker. She turned to see a group of boys doing tricks on skateboards by a thicker branch of sidewalk. Max had always found the aesthetic of skater boys to be attractive, but the actual skater boys at Blackwell? Not so much. Not that she talked to them often, anyway.

The only boy in the group she recognized was Justin- and she only knew him because they shared a class and he was always high. But he also always seemed chill. But again, that might’ve just been because he’s always high. 

Max approached them anyway. Justin only noticed Max’s presence once she announced it. “Hey, Justin.”

He jolted like he had been woken up- or maybe just woken from a daze. He refocused back in on Max. “Check out the Max.” He greeted. “Come to thrash?”

Max blinked. “Thrash? You mean like… stage diving?”

Immediately, Justin’s face dropped. “Really?” He asked. “I knew it, you're such a poser. If you can't even name a simple noseslide or a tre flip, you should walk on.”

Max backed up quickly. That had obviously been the wrong thing to say, now Justin thought she was a poser. What was she supposed to say instead? He had mentioned a “noseslide” and a “tre flip.” Maybe if Max mentioned one of those, it would sound like she knew what she was doing and he would think she was cool?

She reached out and pulled on the threads to rewind time back. Standing this close to Justin, she was able to hear their conversation sped up and backward. It was bizarre and sort of surreal, and she had to take a second to reorient herself when she stumbled out of the stream.

“Come to thrash?” Justin asked again.

“Oh, uh-“ Max scrambled to recall what she had prepared to say, “I came to uh, to ‘noseslide,’ but I'd love to see somebody do a ‘tre flip’.”

“Oh, sick, you're not a poser.” Justin grinned and nodded.

“You thought I was?” Max asked out of curiosity.

Justin shrugged. “You always just gave me that vibe, you know? Glad to see you’re one of us, though.”

Max did not know, but she nodded anyway. “Yeah, I just can't skate worth shit.”

“Oh, don’t even sweat it.” Justin waved her off. “We're gonna destroy some rails for you. What do you want to see?”

She relaxed- the interaction felt much less hostile. Looks like she was cool in their eyes now. It was so cool how a simple choice of words could change someone’s whole perception of you. 

Since Max didn’t know the difference, she picked one at random. “How about a tre flip?”

“Let's get Trevor all over that action.” Justin turned to one of the boys skating past them. “Yo, Trevor!”

He stopped himself mid skate, looking at his friend.

“Let’s see a tre flip!”

Trevor grinned and went to do the trick. Max assumed he did it incorrectly, because immediately after trying to kick up the board, the end hit him in the balls and he collapsed.

“Ooh,” Justin hissed. “Walk it off, buddy.”

Max laughed. 

Trevor turned back to her. “You’re not a real ‘skater girl’, huh?”

“I used to be,” she recalled her attempts when she was younger with Chloe- “but I'm into my camera now.”

“I can tell.” He said. “We need more girls out here, it’s a total dude hound. Rachel Amber and her punk friend used to skate with us. You know. Before.”

And there she was again- Rachel. Max was getting less and less surprised the more she was brought up in conversation. She seemed to be some sort of spiritual figure here. Max thought she might be the only one enrolled to not meet her. But a punk friend? Max had only heard of Rachel hanging out with the Vortex Club.

“Who was Rachel's punk friend?” Max asked. “Was she a Vortex Club member too?”

Justin shook his head. “Nah, she hated that shit. I’m totally blanking on her name- damn I’m baked.” He laughed to himself. “But she was hot. Tats. Blue hair. Hardcore. She stopped hanging out with us after Rachel disappeared… or ran away.”

“So, you knew Rachel too?” Max asked.

He laughed again. “Don’t sound surprised, we all kind of did, one way or another. But yeah, she used to chill with us sometimes. But one day she just vanished. Hope she's livin' the dream somewhere. If anybody hurt her, we'll get a skate posse and take 'em out with our boards.”

“Then I’m sure she’s got nothing to worry about, right?” She smiled. Justin was cooler than she thought. Another person to the ‘positive opinions about Rachel’ column. “See you around, Justin.”

“Anytime you want to take some action shots, we're here for you, Max.” He called as she walked on. Max was glad she had saved that interaction, Justin was nice.

Immediately after walking away, she spotted Steph carrying a cardboard box like it was too heavy, Max was afraid it was about to topple over. She almost turned away, but decided that she should probably at least try to offer her help.

She walked up to her, and Steph heard her approach a second before she did. “Oh, hey.” She said.

“Did you, uh,” Max began, “need help with that?”

Steph looked from the box, back to Max. Then she sighed. “Please. I have weak nerd arms.”

Max tried for a laugh and grabbed the other side. “So do I, but four nerd arms are better than two.”

“That is true.” Steph agreed. “Can you help me over to the bus stop? It’s right over there.”

Steph gestured somewhere behind Max, but Max already knew where the bus stop was. They were right by the exit, the steps that led to the parking lot, and the Blackwell bus stop was on a bench down the steps right next to it.

“Sure.” Max agreed.

They walked over to the stairs and made their way to the bench. When they reached it, they dropped the box down. Steph flopped down on the bench next to it in exaggerated exhaustion. The box was open now, and Max couldn’t help but look inside. Where it was, Max could see a figurine of a Minotaur, and what looked like a cloaked wizard.

“Those figurines are cool.” Max commented. “What are they for?”

Steph looked from the box to Max, and grinned. “Ever heard of tabletop games?”

“Like D&D?” Max recalled. “I’ve never played, but I’ve heard they’re fun.”

“They’re great.” Steph agreed. “I’m actually headed over to play with a friend right now.”

“A friend off campus?” Max asked.

“Well, he and his brother used to live here, but after the older brother- Drew- graduated in my sophomore year, his brother transferred to public school.” Steph explained. “Something about money, nobody wants to explain it to me. So I don’t see him every day anymore.”

“That’s rough,” Max empathized, “it’s hard being friends with someone when you don’t get to see them all the time.”

“Yeah, it is.” Steph agreed. “Luckily, I also live off campus.” She grinned up at Max. “You know, you could join us sometime if you wanted. I could make you a character figurine and you could join the party for a while.”

“You made those?” Max asked.

Steph nodded. “Mr. Keaton and Mr. Cole taught me everything I know.” She laughed. “Kidding. It was mostly YouTube tutorial videos. But being part of the set design for the school plays the past four years helped.”

“Really? That’s cool.”

“I did a bunch of tech stuff.” Steph shrugged. “Have you ever seen a performance here? You’re new, right?”

“Yeah, I am.” Said Max. “So no, I haven’t seen one.”

“Well, you should come to this year's play.” She continued. “We haven’t decided on what it’ll be, but when we do, it’ll be awesome. But there’s no way it’ll measure up to the Tempest from sophomore year. That was the last play Rachel was in.”

“She was in the plays?” Max asked. She had heard she was in the drama scene, but not that much. 

“Oh, yeah.” Said Steph. “She played the lead. She was great at it.”

“Sounds like she was great at everything,” Max thought aloud.

“That too.” She said, almost dreamily.

“So, you knew her?” 

Steph snapped out of it. “Yeah! Kind of. We were never as close as I hoped we’d be, though. She played a game with us once.”

Rachel was in school plays and played D&D? Max thought. This girl did absolutely everything at this school. I’m starting to think there was more than one Rachel or something. Like there were a bunch of Rachel clones running around Blackwell. One to hang out with the Vortex, one to be in school plays, one to hang out with Justin and punk girls at the skatepark, and one to fool around with teachers.

The screeching of a bus disrupted her trail of thought. Steph picked up the box again. “Thanks for your help,” she said, walking toward the open doors. “The offer to play with us still stands. See you around.”

Max waved as Steph boarded the bus. Max walked back inside the campus. She took a moment to scan the quad. She walked past a billboard of one of Mr. Jefferson’s pieces. This one was one of Max’s favorites. It was an arrest scene, you could really feel the fear of the man as he's being pushed against that police car, especially since it has such a stark contrast in the lighting.

Some people had started to leave, returning back to the dorms. Justin waved at her as she passed, and she spotted Daniel sitting, sketching under a tree. 

Daniel had always been nice to Max. He was definitely someone she could see herself being friends with.

As she walked over and caught his eye, he waved her over before she could initiate the conversation. It made it much easier to approach.

“Hi Max.” He said. “Could I, um, ask you a question?”

“Oh,” said Max. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?

“Would you mind letting me sketch you?” He asked. “I have to draw five faces for my homework tomorrow, and I prefer live models to random reference photos online. You can say no, I know you don’t like people looking at you, and I do put my sketches on Facebook.”

Max blinked. How did he know she didn’t like people looking at her? Was she that obvious about it? “Why me?” She asked.

“I’ve never drawn you before.” Daniel said. “And you have an interesting face. Downturned eyes are something I need to work on.”

Max sat down on the grass across from him. Although she did feel weird about having a photo of her online where others could see it, she figured that if she still felt weird about it by the time he was done, she would just rewind. “Sure,” she said. “I’ve never been somebody’s subject before. I’m usually the one behind the camera- or sketchbook. Makes me feel like a muse.”

Daniel looked from her to an open page on the sketchbook in front of him, already dragging his pencil across the page. 

“Is there anything I should do?” Max asked.

“What you’re doing now is fine, I just need a face.” He said. “Funny you should bring up muses though. I was just thinking about my real muse, Rachel Amber.”

Are you kidding, Max thought. How has she been the only thing I’ve talked about all day?

“You knew her?” She asked. It was starting to feel like clockwork. Nothing against Daniel though, it’s not like he knew she had been talking about Rachel all day.

“No, but once she asked me to draw her portrait.” He reminisced. “Oh, she was a natural.”

“So, what happened to her?” She asked, hoping she didn’t come across as too nosey. “There's got to be a story.”

“She just stopped coming to class. Some people say she ran away, some say she jumped off a cliff. I just hope she's okay.”

“So do I,” she said, “Hard to avoid her posters all over campus.”

His pencil scribbled across the page as he looked up at Max again. “Kills me to see her sweet face used as a crime photo. She had a good heart.”

A silence washed over them as Daniel focused on his sketchbook, glancing up at Max every once in a while. Max felt awkward suddenly, looking for something to say. 

“I must be a step down from Rachel, huh?” She joked. “She looks like a natural model.”

“No way!” He said awkwardly. “You're a… good substitute muse.”

Max bit her lip, then stopped, realizing she was probably ruining the image he needed. Daniel looked up at her again, looking back and forth. He nodded. “Alright, I think I’m done.”

He turned the sketchbook around, and Max studied it. Daniel was really talented in realistic portraiture, he was probably going to get the best grade in his class. 

The most noticeable thing was her eyes, he exaggerated (At least, Max hoped it was exaggerated) her hooded eyelids and how they tugged down at the ends, as well as the fold underneath her eyes, that were always there. She had always disliked them, they always made her look tired at best- and like she had just been crying at worst. 

It did look good, though. And it did look like Max. She hadn’t realized how sad and spooked she always looked. And while the drawing itself was great, Max still wasn’t sure about how she felt about it going online. What if other people saw her and then the other portraits he drew, and made comments about how ridiculous Max looked next to the other, prettier models Daniel drew, like Rachel? 

But if she rewinded, Daniel would have to do more work. And if she asked him not to post it, he might think that she thought he was a terrible artist.

“It’s great.” Said Max, standing back up.

“I’m glad,” said Daniel. “I hope my teacher agrees. See you later, Max. And thanks again.”

Max nodded. She walked off, finding the path again. She felt like she shouldn’t have walked over, the idea of people seeing her online made her sort of worried… but if this made Daniel like her more, then maybe it was worth it? Hopefully no one would be all over it.

Max moved back out to the quad. She wondered if that would be enough people, or if she should go talk to a few more. She should probably get all the practice she could, since she was so out of practice. 

She spotted Evan sitting on a picnic table nearby. As she walked closer from behind, she saw printed and minted photos laid out before him on the table. Max wondered if that was his portfolio or a class assignment. 

Evan was very talented, and Max had always wanted to look at more of his work than what was shown in class. She was always inspired by the work of people her own age, she was following a bunch of her-age photographers on Facebook. She bet that she would learn a bunch just by looking at Evan’s work, but she never had the nerve to ask, she was afraid he would think it was a weird thing to ask for.

If Evan reacted to it weirdly, Max would just rewind, she decided. She went to walk over to him when suddenly, in her back pocket, her phone buzzed. Max took it out to check the damage. It was Warren with a new message: 

[Warren]

Hey Mx, can u get my flash drive?

I need some info. And space 

Then another message after it read;

Hello?

Max cringed. She scrolled up along their string of one sided messages. It’s not that she found Warren annoying. If anything, she found it sweet that he liked to talk to her so much. But Max never knew what to say to him. He seemed to expect something from her, and she didn’t know what it was. Nor was she sure she wanted to give it to him if she did know, and she had an inkling. 

Either way, Max liked Warren. He was funny and cute, like a nerdy kid brother. He was definitely her closest friend on campus. 

[Max]

Srry running late

Insane day

She replied. Warren’s response was instant.

[Warren]

Ill meet u out in the lot

Looking cool

You’ll see

[Max]

My camera will be ready

C u shortly 

[Warren]

I hope so.

Max slipped the phone back into her pocket. Max and Warren had made a regular thing out of helping one another with homework. Warren was a science wizz, where Max had been missing the fundamentals of chemistry, and Warren struggled to keep up with Mr. Jefferson's courseload, where Max was a natural at that. So they met a couple times a week in the common area of the dorms to help one another out. Warren had this thing where he needed to have straight As or he might actually die, and since Max had helped him officially raise his photography grade to an A earlier this week, Warren had lent Max his legendary flash drive he had stored with illegally downloaded movies and songs that he hoarded, so she could watch what he called “quality film” as a thanks. Max had actually been too busy to watch much of it, but she had gotten through a few of the titles she actually recognized (episodes of Doctor Who, Fullmetal Alchemist, and The X-Files) and wasn’t inclined to agree. But there was more than one way to be a nerd, she supposed.

Max would head over to the dorm after she talked to Evan. She walked up to him from behind the bench. She tapped his shoulder, and he looked over, startled at her appearance. 

“Hey, Max.” He said. He only knew her name because they’d been in a critique group together for Mr. Jefferson’s class. 

“Hi, Evan.” Said Max. “Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if that was your portfolio. It looks super professional.”

Evan looked to his photos and back to Max. He grinned. “You bet. Let me guess, you want to take a peek?”

Max nodded. That wasn’t weird, was it?

“Let's see if you're worthy of it, Max.” He said. “You'll have to answer a simple question: who photographed the famous Falling Soldier?”

That, Max did actually know. At her old school, she did a research project on him for her film class. “Robert Capa, of course. I love his work, despite the controversy about that photo.”

“My, my. This quiet child knows things.” Evan said, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s why I’m here.” Max chirped.

“You are a kindred spirit, Max.” He nodded. “You may look if you wish. Try not to feel too intimidated by my eye.”

Max smiled. “I’d be honored, sir.”

She looked down at the glossy photos on the picnic table. They were of human models. Some were of people she had never met- an older woman on a stool looking off in the distance, the lighting was clearly staged, but the blue light bounced off her face in all the right ways, highlighting her features magnificently. 

Another photo featured a girl their age laying in her back in a bathing suit, throwing her head back and letting her long hair stream down behind her. There was warm lighting from two positions in this photo. Max focused on her face for a moment, and realized that she recognized this girl.

“This… is Rachel Amber, isn’t it?” Goodness, she really was everywhere.

“Yeah,” Evan confirmed. “Rachel was my favorite model. She knew exactly what angles worked best with my eye.”

“You were close?” Max asked.

“Like brother and sister in arms.” Evan said. “She understood me, never judged me. I hated her Vortex Club clique, but she never acted like she cared. Her friends were her friends.”

“What was she like?” She asked again. “Other than a good model, of course.”

“She was, like, mercurial.” Evan described. “You know what that means?”

Max nodded. “Course I do, you snob. What do you think happened to her?”

Evan sighed. “Nothing good, Max. Nothing good.”

Max eyed the photo again. “It’s an excellent shot,” she said. “I hope you get your model back, soon.”

“Me too.” Evan nodded.

With a wave, Max backed away. Man, Rachel really got around. She was friends with everybody- from the Vortex Club to the bottom of the barrel- everyone seemed to like her. And if they didn’t, they still respected her in some way. Clearly, whoever she was (or had been), she knew people. She was almost like a chameleon, blending in with every clique in Blackwell. Max wished she was like that. It must make socializing so easy.

She should probably get to the dorms, she promised Warren she was going to go find his flash drive. She left it there on her dresser, she believes. Max walked down the path that would lead her to the Prescott dormitories. 

It was just a brush around the corner, so it took Max no time at all to get there. As she reached the plaque that described the history of the building, she was again nauseated to remember how the Prescotts literally owned her living quarters. 

She was greeted by the familiar sight of the totem pole “Tobanga”, sitting outside the dorms where it always was. At least, that’s what Warren told her it was called. No one knew why it was called that. There was scaffolding over the entryway to the dorm. Max didn’t recognize it- it must be new. What construction did Blackwell need now? Two boys were throwing a football back and forth in front of the building, and Max spotted a girl sitting on the bench, leaned over a book.

Max didn’t bother talking to the two dudes, she thinks that they’re part of the Bigfoots- that is to say, the football team. But as Max got closer, she saw the girl sitting on the bench was Alyssa. She always thought she and Alyssa should be better friends. Max always got really chill vibes from her, but could never find an appropriate time to talk to her. Even now, she would probably have just walked by, not wanting to interrupt her reading. But now with her rewind powers, if Alyssa showed to be annoyed with her for interrupting like Max feared she would, she could just rewind it.

Max approached. Alyssa could hear her waking from the crunch of falling autumn leaves under her sneakers and looked up to meet her.

“Oh, hi Max.” Said Alyssa.

“How are you doing?” Max asked, somewhat awkwardly.

“Fantastic.” Alyssa deadpanned. “I'm by myself reading chick-lit. Pretty soon I'll be bonding with Victoria at the Vortex Club.”

“I think you're better off reading chick-lit.” Max said. “What’s it called?”

“ ‘Love Today Or Die Forever’.” Alyssa told her. “Don't even say anything.”

Max once read the back of that book when she was at a thrift shop back in Seattle. It was about a girl who was close with a boy she knew- Max thinks they were in outer space in a war or something. The boy dies before the girl is able to share her feelings for him. Max is thankful her own love life isn’t so dramatic. “It's a best-seller. What to say?”

“Good point.” Alyssa shrugged. “Now, if you'll excuse me…” 

As she went back to her book, Max got the hint to walk away. 

Nearby, Max saw a squirrel nibbling on an acorn by the other bench. As she approached- carefully, as to not scare it off- she noticed that there were many nuts scattered on the ground. Samuel the janitor must be nearby, he always feeds them. 

Poor Samuel, Max thought. People think he’s creepy. Max didn’t think so, he just wasn’t normal. It's like- X-Files weird. Weird in a good way- in a reassuring way. Max wasn't the only weirdo in this school. 

The tranquility of the squirrel caught her eye, and she pulled out her camera from her bag. She lined up the rodent in her viewfinder and took the shot. But the shutter scared the squirrel away.

“Sorry!“ She called after it. As she stood up, she saw Alyssa looking at her weird. Max hurried away.

Immediately after continuing down the path, she spotted one of the only people she hoped she wouldn’t. 

Victoria Chase was sitting with Taylor and Courtney on the steps that led into the dorms, blocking off the whole thing. There was no way for Max to go around them, that was literally the only entrance. 

Ah shit, it was really just that kind of day, huh? Max walked up to her. Is it too much to hope that she’ll just ignore me and let me pass?

Of course not, came the immediate answer. Max tried her best to walk by undetected, she had mastered the art. Head down, arms in, walking with small steps, slow enough to not draw attention but fast enough as to not annoy anyone. But of course, Victoria still noticed her approach. It was unavoidable, Max thought, since she was sitting directly blocking the door. 

When Victoria noticed her, she looked up at her with a malicious grin, and her two friends’ eyes followed. 

“Oh, look, it's Max Caulfield, the selfie hoe of Blackwell.” She greeted with heavy disdain. She scooted off her spot on the stairs and stood up. She looked like she wanted to hold Max’s eye, but Max didn’t let her. “What a lame gimmick.” She spat, walking closer to her. Max wished she wouldn’t. “God, does that twee little nerd act ever get tiring? Even Mark- Mr. Jefferson- falls for your waif hipster bullshit.” She said, walking behind her, around, in a circle, like a predator closing in on its prey. “ ‘The-- the-- the-- the Daguerreian Process, sir!’ “ she mocked, finishing her lap around Max and standing in front of her. “You could barely even say that. Oh-- but good job finishing a whole sentence! That's a first for you this semester. I guess you got your meds filled.”

Max kept her eyes downcast, deeply uncomfortable. Taylor and Courtney laughed. She knew Victoria wanted a response out of her, but at the same time, Max didn’t know what to say. Maybe Victoria had a point.

“Since you know all the answers, I guess you have to find another way into the dorm. We ain't moving.” She said pointedly, walking back over to the steps and sitting back down where she had been before. 

Max kept her eyes down. Of course this had to happen today. She tugged on her sleeve. “Oh, wait, hold that pose!” Victoria said after a moment. She pulled out her phone and pointed it at her. Max realized what she was doing a second after the shutter clicked on her cell. 

She pulled the phone around so Max could see herself in the photo Victoria took. She was hunched over, looking down, standing so small… did Max really look like that? She looked so pathetic. Meek.

“So original.” Victoria lamented, and pulled the phone back around to admire the picture. “Don't worry, Max, I'll put a vintage filter on it right before I post it all over social media.” She gave Max a maddening grin. “Now, why don't you go fuck yourselfie?”

Max felt herself burn with anger as well as self-loathing. Victoria never let Max get a word in when they talked. Who even talked like that in real life anyway? What was this, High School Musical? Did she think she was Sharpe Evans? No one could match the bitch boss energy of Sharpe Evans, not even Victoria. 

Every time Victoria spoke to her, she felt like she was under attack, like Victoria wanted Max to give up or surrender something. But why? She hadn’t done anything to her. They had barely even exchanged greetings before Victoria decided she was a threat somehow. 

This was the kind of person Max hated- people who started shit for no reason. What was the point? Can't everyone just leave Max be? Max knows she's... well, she's always been different. But Max hates the people who feel the need to shine a light on it or ostracize her or treat her like a little kid. And Max knows she'll never be able to really fit in, but she'd be fine with that if everyone left her alone about it.

She sneered at Victoria before walking anyway. Oh, yes, Victoria, I'll get your bony ass out of my way. Max thought. Only question is; how?

As she walked off, she saw the sprinklers turn on. One of them was dangerously close to where the girls were sitting. Maybe if Max could tamper with the sprinklers, it would force them to move. Yes, Max liked that idea.

She knew the sprinklers were controlled by a panel in the janitor’s closet nearby, she’s watched Samuel go in there to mess with it before. She hurried the rest of the way to the closet, passing the aforementioned Samuel holding a paint bucket on her way. 

She entered the closet. There wasn’t much to see, just janitorial tools and whatnot. She opened the panel where she had seen Samuel do so before. She looked at all the different knobs. She would probably get in a lot of trouble if she was caught. She saw one that looked like there was a little water symbol next to it, and turned the knob all the way up. 

Max left the closet to check the damage. She heard the girls squeal already.

“What the hell?” Victoria hissed, walking away from the steps. “Are you kidding? Look at this.”

She wasn’t drenched, but water was splattered all up her side.

Taylor put her hands up in what looked like an attempt to comfort. “Chill, Victoria. It's just water-“

“Yeah, water on my cashmere!” She snapped. “Do you know how much this fucking outfit cost?”

“You look… great.” Taylor replied weakly. Courtney didn’t say anything at all. Max came out into view fully, and saw that the girls were still standing in front of the steps, if not directly on them. 

Damn, she cursed. She would still need to find something to get past them. She looked around the surrounding area for something else to mess with. Finally, she spotted Samuel again. He was on the scaffolding near above the girls. He seemed to be painting the white frame around the windows. The paint bucket he had been holding earlier was hanging by the handle on part of the scaffolding, right over Victoria’s head. 

Dude, if that fell on her… Max thought. But how would she get it to do that? If the bucket’s handle had been loose then maybe…?

But there was no way for Max to do that now. She would have to rewind. And that she did- holding out her hand until the sprinklers were back to normal, the girls were on the steps, and Samuel was walking past her. (She was getting really good and precise at this).

This time, Max followed closely behind Samuel. He didn’t notice her because she didn’t want him to. He put the paint bucket on the ground in order to adjust the ladder that was leaning on the side of the wall near the scaffolding. With Samuel’s back turned and the bucked unattended, Max seized her chance. 

She bent down and tempered with the handle, making it come somewhat loose. There, she thought, standing back. That should do the trick. 

Though, she would need the girls to be standing directly under that bucket when it fell, so she would need to scare them over there by putting the sprinklers on high again. Max rushed over to the closet again, opening the panel and turning the knob on high once more.

She peaked out from her hiding place. 

“What the hell?” Victoria squealed, walking away from the steps. “Are you kidding? Look at this.”

Water was splattered all up her side again.

Taylor put her hands up in what looked like an attempt to comfort. “Chill, Victoria. It's just water-“

“Yeah, water on my cashmere!” She snapped. “Do you know how much this fucking outfit cost?”

“You look… great.” Taylor replied weakly. Courtney didn’t say anything at all. Max watched as Samuel placed the paint bucket on the scaffolding over Victoria. With the handle loosened, it broke- then fell right beside Victoria, and white paint splattered all over her.

“No way! No fucking way!” She screamed. She shook out her hands, standing awkwardly. Max covered her smile with her hands. Samuel noticed the damage and came down from his ladder.

“You okay, Victoria?” Courtney asked.

Victoria kept trying to wipe the paint off, then Samuel approached. “Ol' Samuel is sorry.” He said earnestly. “Wet paint is not good for hair, nope. Sorry-“

She smacked a worried hand away. “Get the hell away from me, weirdo!” Victoria hissed. Courtney waved Samuel off, and he backed up. Victoria turned and walked off to the other side of the stairs, leaving the other two girls to follow her. 

“Hold on, hold on, we'll get some towels,” said Courtney in a panic, “We'll be right back!”

They turned and ran inside the building as Victoria returned to her seat on the steps, farther away from the splash of the sprinklers this time. “Good! Hurry the hell up before I dry!”

Max smiled, elevated. It worked! She thought. In a moment of triumph, she envisioned herself standing in front of them. 

Don't mess with Max, bitches. She would say. And also, Victoria, I didn’t get my meds filled because I don't take anxiety medication even though I probably should. 

Wait, no, that wasn’t good. Her verbal takedowns could still use some work, but she had to admit, her physical takedowns were on point today. 

Now, she just had to get past Victoria. Max walked over to the steps again. Victoria was standing hunched over. The white paint was in her hair and on her face as well as her coat. She couldn’t stop herself from observing how sad and lonely Victoria looked now that her friends were gone.

“Uh… hey, Victoria…” Max began. 

Victoria snapped up to look at her. “What do you want, Max?”

At this distance, with Max towering over her, Victoria looked kind of pathetic. It reminded her of the utter defeat that was portrayed in Victoria’s photo of Max. In a moment, Max thought of capturing that same defeat here. 

But she was also struck by how she felt. She had thought that taking Victoria's down like she always did to Max would feel good. Albeit Victoria used words and Max worked better through action, Max had thought this would bring her some level of satisfaction. And she had felt that for a moment. But now, face to face with her, she only felt guilt.

“I’m… sorry.” Said Max softly. “That's an awesome cashmere coat.” Because it was. Max could be jealous of her sense of fashion and still dislike her.

Victoria looked down at herself and back up again. “It was.” She agreed. “But there will be another.”

“Well, you always seem to know how to pick the right outfits.” Max reminisced.

“I do have some talent.” Victoria continued. “Mr. Jefferson told me-“ she cut herself off, looking to her right. It made Max curious, but not too curious. Not even she wanted to know what went on between her and Mr. Jefferson- even though Max doubts it was anything sexual the way Victoria clearly wanted it to be.

“Well, you do have a good eye.” Max picked up. “I've seen some of your pictures. It’s, like, Richard Avedon-esque.”

“He's one of my heroes. Thanks, Max.” She said with a fondness Max hadn’t expected. The conversation paused for a moment, and she wondered if Victoria planned to keep her here or if something else was going through her mind.

“I hope those sluts get me a towel before they hang a sign on me.” She lamented. She took out her phone, scrolling through something before looking back up at Max. “You deserve a better shot.” She said, holding up her phone for Max to see. It was the photo of her looking pathetic from earlier. Her thumb was hovered over the delete button, and she pressed down.

“Sorry about blocking the door and… and the ‘go fuck your selfie’.” She said.

“That was mean…” Max thought aloud, remembering the comment, “but pretty funny.” She laughed.

“Just one of those days, you know?” Victoria shrugged. She seemed suddenly, much calmer. Max wondered if that was because she felt defeated, or because no one else was around to see her act this way. 

“I know exactly what you mean, Victoria.” Max sighed with a heaviness she could feel in her bones. “I'll see you later…?”

Victoria seemed to suddenly remember that Max wanted to go inside. She scooted over in her seat, giving Max room to walk past. “Au revoir.” She said.

Max walked past her, opened the door and strode inside. It was weird to see this side of Victoria, Max had never seen her act this way. She didn’t think people rich and pretty like her even had bad days. 

Though, as she walked up the stairs to the second floor and thought logically, of course they did. When Max had a bad day like today, she folds in on herself, wondering what she did wrong that got her to this outcome. Victoria must take all the pent of anger of the day and attempt to release it by throwing it at other people. It kind of reminded Max of Chloe.

Max shook off the thought as she climbed the stairs. Victoria wasn’t a thing like Chloe. She probably played me. Max thought. I should have played her. 

She shook off the train of thought entirely. Better get to my room before I find Warren.

She opened the double doors to her floor, nodding to the security guard she hadn’t learned the name of yet. The girls were all on the second floor while the boys were on the first. Max didn’t think it was fair she had to walk up a flight of stairs while Warren and Nathan didn’t. 

She walked down the familiarity of the hallway. It’s surprising how quickly Max had become accustomed to it, it was only October 6th, she’d only been at Blackwell for three weeks. A door burst open where Max couldn’t see, and Courtney and Taylor ran down the hall.

“Hurry, Courtney!” Said Taylor. The two of them held paper towels in their arms- they had come from the direction of the bathroom. They all had to share one, and Max hated it.

“Victoria is going to be pissed we took so long.” Courtney said, as they streamed past her. Max heard the double doors open and then slam close. She kept walking.

She paused the directory of dorms (labeled “girls dormitory”) and campus map on her right, hanging from the wall. She thinks someone ought to graffiti it to say “welcome to Blackhell.” Chloe might’ve done that if she were here…

There were a few more posters and flyers hanging on the walls as she went to her room. Namely more missing Rachel posters and flyers announcing the next Vortex Club party. And no, Max still didn’t want to go to a party titled “the end of the world”, thank you very little.

There was a paper towel trail that led from the bathroom, Courtney and Taylor really left there in a hurry. She wondered what Victoria had on those two that they sucked up to her so much. There was a significant amount of toilet paper on the floor in the hallway, seemingly for no reason. Well, not any reason Max knew of. She stepped over it to get to her room, which was at the end of the hallway.

She noticed that Victoria updated her whiteboard. It had a Barack Obama quote before, now it says “Be the change you wish to see” -Caolhi. Oh Victoria, Max thought, give me a fucking break.

Max reached her own dorm (because yes, it was directly across from Victoria’s) and acknowledged her own whiteboard. There was a tiny one with an erasable marker outside of every door, so that the students could write whatever they wanted outside of them.

Her own was empty. It was sad, she thought, but what would she put there anyway? She had nothing to say. When she first moved in, she had thought about what to write there, toiled over it for a few hours as she unpacked, and then promptly forgot about it. She briefly remembered “oh yeah, I need to do that” every once in a while, but never actually does anything about it. The task itself sounded vaguely daunting. Whatever she writes here will reflect on her. Whatever she wrote on here, everyone else would see and judge. 

But maybe the silence spoke for itself?

Max uncapped her marker and brought it to the board. The erasable whiteboard reminded her of her rewind power. Anything she wrote here could be undone just as quickly as it was written, leaving no trace that it was ever there. As many do overs as Max wanted. Besides, today felt like a good day to take risks.

Max had written her name, and a neutral smiling face with a small stick body. She couldn’t think of anything else.

She opened the door and walked inside. Immediately, any tension she felt went lax.

Home, sweet home. She thought. My favorite cocoon.

Part of the deal she made with her parents about coming here had been that she would make more friends. Reach out more. Not cocoon herself in her room and hibernate like a bear and never come out in order to avoid people. And Max hardly did that. Maybe they’re right to worry, but she thinks that they’d be proud of her for what she did today, reaching out and making small talk with quite a handful of people. Small talk is so draining. It's exhausting having to try and be conscious of her behaviors every second of the day, just so she doesn't send out the wrong social signals or whatever. 

Max walked over to her bed and laid down on her back. She looked over to her bear, Captain, sitting next to her on the bed.

Ahoy Captain, she said to him. At least I know you’ve got my back. When I swallowed your eye and my parents rushed me to the E.R., I knew we were bonded forever.

God, she was tired. She let her eyes fall closed.

It feels so nice to just relax, Max thought. This day has been so damn bizarre, and it feels like it's gone on forever. Maybe I’ll just wake up back in class again and find out it was all just a dream. Nathan, the power, Victoria- everything. Maybe it was like that poem Poe wrote- a dream within a dream. 

It was hard to shake the fact that the longer the day went on, the less like a dream it felt. But the rewinding- that still didn’t feel real. It made no sense- no matter how much she used it. She would wake up tomorrow and find out she imagined it all- she just knew it. There was no way Max Caulfield was able to warp time. Max wasn't like the action protagonists in the movies that got these kinds of powers. She was more like the protagonists of high school rom coms, if anything.

And even then, those protagonists were good people, better than her, and they stuck up for themselves when they were hassled or harassed or saw a gun in the bathroom. Yeah, Max had saved the punk girl and reported it to Principal Wells, but she knew that wouldn’t do anything. Nathan would still have that gun come tomorrow, and Max was in her room sitting on her ass. Nothing she really did ever had consequence. Sometimes, Max felt too small to exist at all.

God- Max wanted to forget about this as soon as possible. If she kept sitting here and thinking about it, she would overthink it and then she’d be stuck in here all day.

Max sat up and scanned her room, looking for something to occupy her for a moment. Something grounding, she was running out of grounding methods. Her eyes landed on the guitar her parents bought her for her fourteenth birthday. 

Max hadn't asked for a guitar, nor did she know how to play one. Her parents hadn’t really known what to get her, because she and her parents didn’t talk about that kind of stuff. They knew their daughter was artistically inclined and so, they bought her an instrument. 

Max had decorated it with flower stickers and learned to play it so her parents wouldn’t realize they had ceased to know their daughter at all. 

She doubted that many teenage (or young adult? She was eighteen, now) parents knew their children all that well anyway, so her parents weren’t too bizarre in that regard. It’s only that- her parents didn’t talk about deep stuff with Max. They left her to her own devices- and Max liked it that way. She had room to figure stuff out on her own, she could hang out with whoever, go wherever whenever she wanted...

Growing up, Max always spent her time at Chloe’s house with her parents because it was more lively. The Price’s was all shouting over each other at dinner, yelling at one another from the top of the stairs to remember to get something from the store, getting messy arts and crafts projects everywhere and only being scoffed at as a punishment. 

Max’s parents in comparison was awkward silent dinners, a “lower your voice please, sweetheart” when she wanted to yell something, and putting newspaper all over the floor so glue and paint wouldn’t get on the hardwood floors, lest Max be grounded for her art project. 

She had good parents, she thought as she stood up and walked over to the couch. She had great parents. They cared about her, they just had trouble expressing it, just like Max did. They were quiet, like Max. Always just missing the opening in the conversation to say “I love you”, just like Max did. Max and her parents don't have the kind of relationship that Chloe and her parents did. They're not... close.

But they did love her. Max knew that. They sent gifts for her birthday a week or so ago, her mom sent her a fat box of chocolate coconut bites and slipped in a two hundred dollar gift certificate. (She sure knew how to make a sad birthday happy.) They’d sent her a card, too, wishing her well on her eighteen years. (Which still felt strange. Eighteen? Max? Hard to believe I’m eighteen. She had thought that day. Do I look any older? No, just more stressed.) 

They took her to the space needle, Max only ever let them take one tourist-y photo of her here. Her mother showed her how to sew throw pillows like the one resting on Max’s bed (it made her smile whenever she thought of that day). Her dad took her to hockey games- it was one of the things the two of them had in common. Her parents showed love through action because it was easier than words, just like it was for Max. And so, Max didn't really care what their relationship looked like. None of this stuff actually bothered, her, it's just how it is. 

One thing she wished for, really, when it came to her parents, was that they would have helped her with the transition from the move better. Max had never… really… adjusted to living in Seattle. She never settled into a new friend group, into the flow at school. She always felt like a pebble in a rushing current, going against the grain. She didn’t belong, she was ruining the flow of the river. But when she tried to explain this to her parents... well. Her parents could be stubborn.

When William died, they wouldn’t let Max stay any longer to be with Chloe (not that that would have helped anything anyway), no matter how much Max screamed and begged. And when Max tried to talk about it, said “I miss Chloe.” “I don’t want to be here.” “My new school is so big.” “I hate it here.” “No one will talk to me.” “I want to go home.”, They would offer soft words of encouragement; “you can do it sweetheart.” “You have nothing to worry about.” “You just gotta muddle through.” “You’re such a trooper.” “You know we can’t afford to go back, honey.” “It’s hard on all of us.” It felt like empty words. And eventually, Max stopped talking to them about that kind of stuff. They weren't very good with emotional stuff, but some people are just like that.

Her parents had always been that stubborn. She was glad, though, that they had relented on their stubbornness and let Max go to Blackwell. Max hefted the guitar into her arms.

Her parents didn’t budge when they had first brought up moving and Max was heavily against it, nor when William died and Max wanted to stay longer. But they relented when Max wanted to go to Blackwell for her senior year. Probably because of her scholarship-- Max was attending Blackwell for much less than the average joe. They were excited right along with Max when that acceptance letter came. 

They’d let her go on the request that she make more friends, and Max attempted that every day- she wanted this school to be different. She hadn't talked much to anyone in her old school. She hadn't made an impression on anyone, really. Like she didn't even exist.

Max strummed the strings along the guitar, picking a tune at random. Even though Max didn’t really talk about it to them by that point, her parents had been able to tell Max was struggling to make friends in high school, and they’d tried to help.

They had set her up with therapists (one therapist, Angela, and Max didn’t want to go back), guidance counselors, tried off the counter anxiety medication that did nothing, they even made her join the photography club at her old high school (at least she had had some fun with some of those guys, like when Kristan and Fernando got drunk and they all hung out by the Fremont Troll). They tried. It's not like it was their fault Max really couldn’t be helped.

They contacted her every once in a while, trying to see if Max had been keeping her end of the deal, making sure she was okay, but Max didn’t miss them as much as she thought she would, which was odd. She had never been away from them for this long before. But Max surprised herself, she was much more self-sufficient than she thought she was.

Her phone buzzed, and she stopped playing the guitar. She reached into her bag and pulled it out, then opened it. Her messages had an alert, from her mom, like she knew Max had been thinking about her. 

[Mom]

Max. Your principal sent me an email that you’ve told some tall tales about a Blackwell honor student is this true? The principal said this was a serious false charge And that he is worried you’re telling stories. Call me asap so we can talk about this Mom

Max closed the phone. Her mom would forget about this in a few hours, Max didn’t see a reason to call and worry her.

Of course Wells had decided that Max's claim was a “false charge”. What an asshole. Max should’ve rewinded and not bothered telling the Principal anything. What a tool! Literally! He was a little tool in the Prescott’s back pocket. 

She sighed, looked across the room to the Max Caulfield Photo Memorial wall. She loved and hated that thing all at once. She should stop procrastinating, she came here for a reason.

As Max moved the guitar off her legs and drifted over to her desk to look for that flash drive, she noticed her laptop up and her photo journal open. That book was her go-to for photo inspiration- not that she would ever be able to measure up to Philip-Lorca dCorca or Julia Cameron, but she could dream.

She opened her computer while she was thinking about it. Her Facebook was empty- looked like no one had posted anything about her. Which was good! That meant Victoria really deleted that photo. Well, no, someone had posted about her. She scrolled down to her tagged and it led to her to Daniel’s page where her portrait was posted. 

Daniel has so much talent, she thought again. I hope nobody hates on it just because it’s me. People shouldn’t judge an artwork by the model, right?

Max had a lot of tabs open, but she couldn’t remember why. She decided to close some. One was for the site “Camera Porn”. She was so addicted to that site. The cameras this store sold were incredible, and vintage. Not that Max would ever be able to afford anything sold here, she liked to look. She had her email open, too. She had been looking at Warren’s email about the flash drive.

Ah, Warren. He made her laugh. It was nice to feel like Max had already made a real friend here.

She looked over the rest of her desk. There were a few papers out of place, and a few photos she ought to put away. A desk drawer would do for now, so she could actually see the rest of the desk without all the clutter.

There was a photo of her old photography club lined outside the gym. The photo is old now, it was taken her junior year for the yearbook. She hadn’t really heard from any of them since moving back to Arcadia. That’s kind of a shame, that she hadn’t made a real impression on anyone since moving to Seattle. But it wasn’t surprising, considering she was only ever invited to events and group hangouts. 

Underneath that was an older photo. The second she looked at it, her heart sent an ache down her whole spine that weighed heavy in her gut. It was from a random day- Max didn’t remember taking it. But it was her and Chloe, dressed as pirates. They were pretty young, maybe ten and eleven. 

One of the main reasons Max wanted to go to Blackwell was to see Chloe again, and yet, of course, Max hadn’t reached out. Chloe was a Blackwell student when Max saw her last, but she wasn't here anymore. She thought Chloe was at Blackwell this whole time! She thought, if she attended Blackwell, she'd be able to find Chloe roaming the halls. But she wasn't here. Did she drop out? That wasn’t a real excuse, shit, she needed to initiate contact, she knew she did but… god, she was such a coward.

I’m going to have to call Chloe eventually and find out what she’ll say. Max scolded herself. The longer I wait the worse it’ll be. Idiot.

And God, did she feel like a moron every time she thought about it. Why did things have to be so hard? Why couldn’t she be a normal friend and reach out and know what to say? For knowing Chloe as long as she had, one would think she’d know how to talk to her, but alas.

She shoved all the photos in a desk drawer and slammed it closed.

Max reached the end of her desk where she could have sworn she left the drive, but found a post-it note instead.

She recognized the handwriting immediately. Dana had been her partner for a science project on the first week, and had been nice to Max ever since. They weren’t friends, but they were nice to each other. That’s what counted, right? 

“Hey girl,

I borrowed your drive so I can watch some flix while I study. If u need it back, just reach me down in my room.

Xoxo D”

Great. Now I have to go get the flash drive from Dana's room. Why didn’t they install locks on the doors? Seriously- anyone can waltz right into anyone's room whenever they want because no one had locks on anything. Can they update it for the 21st century? They clearly have time to repaint the windows, but not to install locks?

Max sighed, resigning herself to seek out Dana. She gave her room a quick once over to make sure she didn’t have anything she needed to do before leaving. Max always left this room thinking she was forgetting something.

As her eyes scanned across the room, she realized she hadn’t watered her plant yet, Lisa. She walked over and grabbed the water bottle resting on the widowsil and brought it down in order to feed her. She felt guilty for not doing so before.

As she stood near it, she heard shouts from out the window. She looked out, spotting the football bros from before, still tossing that ball back and forth. Man, didn’t they ever get tired?

Hypocrite, Max thought. If I’m not looking through a viewfinder, I’m looking through a window. Always looking.

She looked around for any signs of homework, and only spotted her stash of film. Instant film is so expensive and hard to find these days. Max thought to herself. I should really switch over. But I can’t help it. I’m analog, not digital.

Now confident that she had everything, Max walked across the “stay calm and carry on” rug and out the front door.

Dana’s room was at the other end of the hallway. As soon as Max left, she heard someone else leave their room too. She recognized who it was when she started to speak.

“You can’t get out now, Dana.” Said Juliet, holding the door to her room shut. “So tell me the truth, or rot in there!”

Ah shit, that’s the direction Max had to go in. Welcome to the real drama queens of Blackwell, Max thought bitterly.

Max walked down the hallway, stepping over the toilet paper that was still there for some reason. The doorknob jiggled from inside, but Juliet paid it no mind, opening her (flip!!!!) phone and typing something out. “Answer you wuss!” Juliet hissed at her texts.

“Let me out, Juliet!” Dana called from inside as Max approached. “This is so stupid! You’re being ridiculous! If you don't let me out, I will scream!”

Max stood in front of the door until Juliet noticed her, which took a second. “Hey, Juliet, is everything cool?”

“Oh, yes, Max. I've locked Dana in her room because we're ‘cool’.” Juliet sneered.

Ah okay, that was not the right thing to say, Max cringed internally. Way to point out the obvious, idiot.

“What did she do?” Max asked instead.

“What didn't she do?” Juliet rolled her eyes. “Dana's been sexting with my boyfriend.”

“Ouch,” Max winced. “How did you find out?”

“Uh, why do you care?” Juliet snapped. Max ignored the instinct to look at her shoes. “Why are you even asking me? You never talk, you just zone out with your little camera and ignore everyone.”

“I’m… actually trying to be better at that,” Max said as nicely as she could muster. She probably sounded pathetic. “That's why I'm talking to you now.”

“Oh really?” Juliet said. “What's my last name?”

Max blinked. That came out of nowhere. Juliet must think Max really just doesn’t care. But that’s not a fair test, she was terrible with names. She thinks she’s heard Dana talk about her, full name and all. If she could just remember…

"Um... M-Mason?" Max stuttered.

Juliet's face dropped and Max knew she fucked up immediately. "Really? Truly sad, Max Caulfield. Your concern about me is palpable. Can you go mind your own business now? I'm not in the mood for your nosiness."

First of all; ouch? Second of all; shit. God damn it. She needs to get into that room. God, what was Juliet's last name? Max knows she knows it. Um... does this count as an emergency? It sure is urgent that she gets this flash drive back, it doesn't belong to her. Maybe it's okay to use the rewind here too? Awkwardly, Max raised her hand and rewound for a moment.

"What's my last name?" Juliet was asking.

Max scoured her brain, trying to recall. 

“Watson!” Max recalled. That’s right, she remembered because it reminded her of Sherlock. “Your name is Juliet Watson.”

Juliet took a moment to be surprised, her eyebrows raised in momentary shock. “I'm flattered. I didn't even think you knew my name at all.”

“Of course I do. Just because I don't talk a lot doesn't mean I don't care.” She said. “So, how did you find out about them?”

Juliet went back to being pissed. Dana banged on the door again. “According to Victoria, Dana would do anything to date a quarterback.”

“According to Victoria? Ah.” It all made sense.

“She saw the sext.” Juliet shrugged. “She sent it to me through email and everything. And Zachary won't answer his phone. Once Dana admits it, she can go...” Juliet narrowed her eyes in a sneer. “…Straight to hell.”

Max took a step back. Would she have to tell Warren that she couldn’t get his flash drive today? Or ever maybe? She wasn’t really willing to put herself in the middle of this, rewinding powers or none.

“Max,” Dana’s muffled voice came from the door. “I swear I didn't do anything. But I bet Victoria did. I know the proof is in her room! Please help?”

Max sighed. And now she was involved. Juliet banged on the door back to Dana. “Screw off, I literally saw the screenshot, whore.” She went back to her phone, her face screwed up in anger and hurt. 

Max turned around and hurried back down the hallway. No way Victoria would be back anytime soon, and none of the rooms had locks. Good of Dana to remember that Max was a big ol snoop.

The door was slighting ajar when Max reached it, and she had no qualms opening it and walking inside. Max’s first instinct was to say “wow how pretentious!” Because it very much was. Victoria had two very obviously new sofas and a glass coffee table. There were large minted canvases on the walls and high end furniture. It’s a fucking dorm room, Jesus Christ. Max thought.

Max started with the coffee table. A few loose leaf papers were scattered atop it, but nothing of value. She saw a letter from “Kroger Gallery”. She only read the words “your work is not compatible with our message” and she winced.

Ouch. She thought. At least she puts her photographs out there, unlike me. Can't get rejected if you don’t put yourself on display. 

There was a small photo collection on part of her wall. On closer inspection, she grinned. 

“Speaking of selfies,” Max spoke to herself. Victoria was such a hypocrite. There she was, making fun of Max for the exact same thing Victoria did. Wow. 

Max pulled out her camera before she could think better of it, and snapped damning evidence. Not what she came here to find, but, as she shook out the photo and examined her work, she was satisfied with herself. She put the photo and her camera back in her bag. 

As she continued her light search about the room, she spotted a canvas for an art gallery Max was familiar with. As Max read the name again, she came upon a startling discovery.

Wait, do Victoria’s parents own the Chase Space? Max gaped. Color me impressed.

The Chase Space was a huge art gallery in Portland. Max had actually been a few times. Victoria’s parents really owned that? No wonder Victoria was rich as fuck.

Max’s eyes drifted down to the couch where she spotted a camera laying. Speaking of money, Max thought in awe. Victoria actually has a classic medium format camera with awesome prime lenses? Max crouched down to get a better look, but didn’t dare touch it. I hate you, Victoria. 

Max pulled herself away and continued the mission. On her unmade bed was a tablet, one that appeared clean and new, and very expensive. Maybe she happened to have evidence pulled up there?

No, Officer, Max thought as she picked up the tablet and opened it- no lock or anything. I’m not snooping. I’m just admitting Victoria’s cutting edge tech. 

She had been on safari last, and an Amazon page was pulled up, with one thing put in her shopping cart, reaching $3,600. Max recognized it immediately.

Is she going to get a 3D printer for her dorm room? Max verbally gasped. Maybe I will join her pose.

Max closed the tablet and put it back on the bed. Overhead, three canvases hung from the walls, all of Victoria posing somewhat unnaturally.

They should call this series “aloof”. Max thought. Cold and soulless, kinda like Victoria.

But then again, Max thought about her conversation with Victoria a few minutes ago back outside and thought, maybe that was a little unfair. Not completely soulless. 

Next to the bed was a dresser, and resting on it, was some bracelets. It sort of reminded Max of her own, only classier.

Okay, if I did wear expensive jewelry, I would wear this for sure. Max thought to herself.

There were Vortex posters that Max promptly ignored. She moved on to the next piece of furniture.

The desk was empty despite a laptop and a growing cold cup of tea. That was now two tea drinkers Max knew. 

She checked the other desk (yes, Victoria had two), and immediately spotted Mr. Jefferson’s book. He had two published ones, and Max wouldn’t be surprised to find the other here somewhere too. This one was titled “Re-Collection”.

Victoria is a real Jefferson groupie, Max thought. Laying next to it, was a leaflet. It described a Local Exhibition for Mark Jefferson in 2009, at a place called the Bean Hip Cafè. Did Victoria really have Jefferson on her radar for that long?

The only other thing worthy of notice on the desk was one of Rachel’s posters. Max’s eyes almost skimmed over it, but then she saw startling red marker vandalizing it, and grabbed the paper to get a closer look. Rachel’s eyes were crossed out, and in large letters it was written “who cares?” And “bitch”. 

Victoria hates Rachel Amber this much? Max thought. How insecure. She’s missing for Christ sakes!

Max put the paper back where it was. If Victoria needed to tear missing girls down to feel better, it wasn’t Max’s business. 

There was a lower table on the other wall that Max walked over to. An issue of the student paper was laid across the desk. Max wasn’t subscribed to it, so she hadn’t read this issue. Their paper was called “The Blackwell Totem”, (why yes, another microaggression against the Native Americans, why do you ask?) and this issue was titled “Is the Vortex Club… A Cult?” It was written by Juliet fairly recently. There was a quote from Victoria where she refused to comment anything of substance that Juliet used to prove her point. 

I bet Victoria put Juliet on her shit list after this article. She figured. 

She caught a glimpse of a large flat screen. Which, of course, Victoria has.

That is a tasty plasma, Max admitted. Maybe I could sneak in and watch Final Fantasy; Spirits Within”. I don't care what anybody says, that's the best sci-fi movie ever made. Like she could go through that whole movie without being caught.

She walked past the standard wardrobe that came with the room. Peaking out of the curtain, were a few name brands that Max recognized. 

Dior, Givenchy… you could pay my tuition with this wardrobe. Say what you will about Victoria, she could kill a man with her sense of fashion and Max will stick with that opinion. She pulled herself away from the dresser.

Max had reached the door again. She looked back to the room. Was there anywhere she hadn’t checked yet? As she looked around, her eyes settled on the laptop. Of course, Juliet got the screenshot through email. Maybe Max could check her account. Was Victoria still logged in?

Max walked over and shook the mouse pad until the laptop came to life. Facebook was pulled up, and Max was happy to see that there was no mention of her here. That did make Max feel kind of bad for snooping. But hey, if it turns out Victoria was telling the truth, Max will apologize for being the snoop everyone knew her to be.

She clicked over to another tab and low and behold, there lay the damning evidence.

It was an email to Taylor.

Taylor,

Sad to inform you that I totally just punked Juliet and Dana just now. All I had to do was photoshop a really dirty sext to Dana from Zachary’s phone. 

Dumb azz believed me, so I expect there to be a dorm rampage soon. Juliet deserves this for slutting Zach away from me. As for Dana- who gives a shit?

Xoxo

Vc

Looks like Victoria was the one sexting Zach, not Dana. Guess they had a thing going on behind Juliet's back, but Zach broke it off today. Max can see why Victoria would be upset that Zach chose his relationship with Juliet over her. Seems like to get revenge on Juliet, Victoria edited her exchanged with Zach to make them seem like they were from Dana. Sounds efficient in theory; Juliet seeing evidence of her boyfriend cheating on her would hurt regardless, but by pinning the blame on Dana, Victoria has both eluded fault, and hurt Juliet more by making it seem like her best friend turned on her. And this would probably break Juliet and Zach up, which is probably what Victoria wants. 

Ah, just “one of those days”, huh? Max remembered her and Victoria’s conversation from earlier. I guess losing a guy you like to someone else qualifies, but she seriously needs to learn to stop taking her anger out on other people and find something better to do. Whatever, Max thought. This is the email I need to show Juliet. Now I have to print this fast and get the hell out of here. 

Victoria had the same kind of email Max did, so exporting it to print wasn’t hard to figure out. Max heard printing sounds from behind her, and noticed a high def printer that totally escaped her on her first go about the room.

This better convince Juliet that Dana is innocent, Max thought as she went over to swipe the paper from the printer tray.

She double checked the email to make sure everything was in order. When she was able to confirm that it was, she headed out. 

Juliet was where Max left her, and the banging on the door had ceased, presumably some time ago. She hoped Dana didn’t put too much faith in her.

As she reached Juliet, she looked up from her (flip!!!!) phone to eye her. 

Max held the paper out to her. “Juliet, read this.”

Juliet tore the paper from her hands, her eyes skimming it over. Max saw when her anger faded into something else, then back into anger. “Of course,” she sighed with venom. She flopped her hands to her side and turned around to open the door.

The second the door opened, Dana came into view, standing right behind it, arms crossed as she looked at her friend.

“I'm an asshole. I'm sorry, Dana.” She said.

“You are, and I hope so.” Dana put her hands on her hips. “You really think I'd mess around with Zachary?”

“No.” Juliet sighed. “But I get stupid jealous. I owe you dinner. Still love me?”

For a moment, Max was genuinely worried Dana would say no, would reject her. But then, Dana nodded her head. “And you do my laundry.”

“Deal.” Said Juliet. Something in Max relaxed. Juliet turned to Max like she forgot she existed momentarily- which wouldn’t be the first time someone had done that. 

“Thanks, Max.” She said “You're like the Blackwell Ninja.” She turned to her flip phone again, the anger resurfacing. “Now let's see what Zach has to say about Victoria.”

As Juliet stalked off down the hall, Max thought to herself, was it really that easy? All they did was apologize and Dana was back in Juliet’s arms. Juliet locked Dana in her room, called her a whore… and they were back to being best friends just like that. Shit, it wouldn’t be that easy for Max and Chloe, would it? That wasn’t Max’s luck.

“You set me free! Thank you.” Said Dana, grabbing Max’s attention. “Warren's flash drive is in here. That’s what you came for, right?”

Max nodded meekly. She wondered if she had a social interaction limit. If she did, she was probably close to reaching it.

Max walked inside. Dana’s room was pretty clean considering. One side had a hgtv and posters supporting the Blackwell Bigfoots on the walls. She had her cheerleading uniform resting on her pink couch. There was a standing fan (so jealous) and pictures littering the walls. Her Pom poms were hanging from the wall, too. But Max wasn’t focused on that. She just needed to get the flash drive. 

Dana sat down in her bed, disturbing the pink covers as Max walked over to look for the drive.

“Seriously, thanks again.” Said Dana, pulling Max’s attention over to her. “I can't believe Juliet locked me in my own room. Real mature.”

“Juliet seems to have her own way of solving things.” Said Max, “But you two made up right away.”

Dana shrugged. “She’s my best friend. Why wouldn’t we?“

Max shrugged, and grasped for a new topic. “I can’t believe Victoria would pull something like this.” She said. Was it really that hard for her to just talk to Juliet about the whole thing instead of taking out her anger by messing with her like this? Well, maybe that was hypocritical, Max wasn’t exactly fantastic at talking things out, either. 

“Really? You can’t?” Dana asked, eyebrow arched. 

“Okay, yeah, I can.” Max admitted. “I just don't get it. She has everything. Is she really that broken up about some guy she couldn’t get?  And to pull that prank on a friend…”

“Just because she and Juliet are in the Vortex Club doesn't mean they're BFF's.” Dana told her. “I'm in it, and Victoria creeps me out. Max, you're smart to be a loner here.” Max signed internally. Of course that’s how people thought of her. That’s how people label you when you can’t make friends, genius. “Though, not a total loner, I guess.” Dana corrected. “Warren obviously likes hanging with you.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked. Sure they were friends, but something about how Dana said it sounded odd in a way Max didn’t like.

“Oh, nothing.” Dana said. “When you opened the flash drive, didn't you see the special folder called ‘Max’?”

Max cringed. She had, in fact, noticed it. She had yet to open it, though, nor did she want to. She may not have had a boyfriend before, but knew what playlists with your name at the title meant.

“Yeah, okay. I gotcha.” 

Dana snorted. “Wow, try and sound more enthusiastic, Max. I thought he was your type.”

“I…” Max spoke awkwardly, “don’t really have a type…?”

Dana shrugged. “If you say so. The drive is on my desk, by the way.”

Max nodded and walked toward it. Her eyes skimmed over the desk, and spotted a crumpled note someone must have written and torn from a notebook. Max didn’t read all of it, just skimmed over it long enough to see the words “if you need any money let me know. Xo Logan”.

Max tore her eyes away- that was out of bounds. She spotted the flash drive still connected to Dana’s laptop.

She tore it out of the port and put it in her pocket. Finally, she sighed. Must protect my precious, so Max never has to chase it down again. She thought in a Gollum voice.

Her feet stumbled on something on the floor as she went to leave. She looked down to see a small, open box. That looks like a home pregnancy test. She thought. Before Max could think better of it, she bent down to take a closer look. She saw the plastic pregnancy test itself, and was able to tell it had already been used by the two lines signifying “pregnant”.

“Uh, Max?” Said Dana’s sudden voice from behind her, making her jolt. She snatched the test from her hands. “That’s mine, thank you.”

Oh fuck.

Dana scowled at her, face tinged red. “You're not helpful, you're just nosy. I think you better go.”

Max wished she hadn’t winced like the words hurt. Nice, Max. You hurt her feelings by being so damn nosy again. But I could rewind and make it up to her.

As soon as the thought occurred to her, Max reached out her hand and rewinded until she was yanking the flash drive out again. She looked over at Dana on the bed. She was sitting there on her phone like nothing had happened.

Damn, she was pregnant? Or had been, at some point. Would she want to talk about it? 

On Dana's bookshelf, next to her laptop, Max spotted a piece of paper for a doctor’s appointment for the center of Women’s Health Fertility and Childbirth scheduled for October 2nd. Max could only assume what that was for. And since Dana still looked thin as can be, Max was pretty confident in her assumption. She swallowed.

Dana was still sitting on her bed, just like she had been before Max fucked everything up by putting her nose where it didn't belong. Would it really be okay if Max used this knowledge to get closer to Dana? Max didn't really know the morality of time bending powers, but trying to be friends with someone was a good thing, wasn't it? Okay, maybe Max was really just curious, but maybe it would help Dana to talk about it! If that made her uncomfortable, she could always rewind again.

"Hey, Dana," Max approached again, holding the flash drive in her fist, "I'm not trying to be nosy, but I heard a rumor about you. It was about, um, you being pregnant? I just thought you should know."

Dana raised her eyebrows up high in shock and hurt. "What? Who told you that?"

"Nobody important. They just acted like it was bullshit. I just wanted you to know."

Dana slumped forward and sighed. "It's like a goddamn reality show around here." she scowled. "Can you keep a secret, Max?"

"Of course." said Max.

"I was pregnant." Dana confirmed. "Was."

"Oh." Max exclaimed, hushed, as the concept washed over her. Jeez. That's a lot for one person to go through. It must've been really hard. "What about the other...?"

"Deadbeat Dad?" Dana guessed. "You can catch him on the forty-yard line this Friday. And it's not Zachary."

"Then who--?" Max began to ask, before she thought better of herself. "And you don't have to tell me. In fact, you better not."

Dana giggled a little, but it felt bitter. "I like your spirit, Max." she said. "Anyway, you better get that flash drive so Warren has an excuse to bug you."

"Yeah, uh, fair enough." Max agreed.

"And thanks for telling me." Dana added. "That's one rumor I don't want spreading. I'll try and nip it in the bud."

"Any time." Max replied, feeling a little guilty. She waved to her as she walked toward the door. “Thanks, Dana.”

“See you later, Max.” Said Dana.

On her way out, Max wondered if that was the right decision. Probably, right? Would Dana feel better for having talked about it? And does Max really care, or does she just want all the juicy details? Dog almighty, she makes herself sick sometimes.

Her phone buzzed as she exited and walked down the hall. 

[Warren]

I don’t mind waiting out here forever

I love this parking lot

I can count all the cars

From Warren. Max sighed, yeah, she had kept him waiting again. 

[Max]

The more I text the longer I take

On my way

[Warren]

Bye

She slipped her phone away again and kept walking. Juliet was nowhere in sight, she must have left at some point. Max pushed open the double doors once again and walked down the steps. 

The second Max got back outside, she saw Zachary- one of the football boys who, yes, were still throwing the ball back and forth- look at his phone and scowl. Well, I know exactly what that’s about. Max thought.

He slammed the ball to the ground. “Man, fuck this shit!” He cursed. The ball bounced on the ground and hit Alyssa (who was still sitting on the bench, reading her book) on the back of the head.

“Ow!” She yelped. “That hurt!”

Damn, Max thought. I better rewind. I could help her avoid that.

Max reached out her hand and pulled on the threads of time that were just at her fingertips. When she let go, Alyssa was still reading. Max hurried over to her.

“Alyssa, move your head!” She instructed. 

Alyssa looked over at her past her book, thoroughly confused. “Uh, if you say so, Max.”

She scooted over in her seat and immediately the ball flew past where her head had been. It bounced on the ground and recoshed onto the building where it broke a window. 

Alyssa looked to the window, back to Max. “Woah.” She said. “I have no idea how you just did that, but thanks.”

“Yeah, anytime.” Said Max, “You… uh… have quick reflexes.”

“Years of mad dodging skills.” Alyssa shook her head. “Bullies never change.”

“That's why you're better off not talking to them.”

Alyssa smirked. “You're smart. We should hang out more. Now I better finish this stupid book.”

Max nodded, stepping away so Alyssa could go back to her reading.

Dopamine filled her head in a rush. Now that’s what I’m talking about, Max thought as she walked down to the parking lot. I actually used my powers to help someone. This is what they must be for, right? To help people. That’s usually why people got powers in comic books, anyway. And she said she wants to hang out more! Go Max.

As she rounded the corner, Samuel walked past her, towing a ladder under his arm. He waved to her. 

“Howdy, Samuel.” She greeted

Samuel smiled, stopping his walk to talk to her. “Well, hello there.”

“You look busy.”  She observed.

“Oh, I'm always up to something.” He said. “Today it's sweeping, then painting windows.”

“Just don't paint over the posters for Rachel Amber.”

Samuel shook his head wistfully. “You can't color over that sunlight…”

“You knew Rachel?” Max guessed. Back to Miss Amber once again.

“How can you know a prism? You just stare in awe.” Said Samuel. 

He sometimes spoke like this, like poetry. Max found it sweet if not a bit odd. But then, the same thing could be said about how Max sometimes speaks, quoting people most have never heard of and using photography terms no one ever used.

“What was she like?” Max asked out of curiosity. “She must have been popular.” Because literally everyone knows her. 

Samuel gave her an odd look. “Even sunlight can cast shadows. Rachel did both at once, you know? She was like a battery; positive and negative.”

Somehow, this made complete sense to Max. There was an even split of the school having positive and negative opinions of Rachel, (though, even if they didn’t like her, everyone respected her- and had a strong opinion). So much so, Max had started to compile a mental list of who liked and didn’t like her. Samuel seemed to look past that, seeing both the positive and the negative. Max knew she admired him for a reason. 

“That was insightful.” Said Max. “I’ve got to get going, see you later, Samuel.”

“Goodbye for now, Max.” Said Samuel as she walked past him. “And watch your step around here.” He called after her. “After I sweep, I paint. And my pail seems to have a loose handle…”

Max almost laughed to herself as she swore to be on the lookout for wet paint. She walked farther along the path, and as she was about to walk through the gates of the Dormitories, she suddenly heard David Madson’s voice again. 

She froze. From where she was, there were walls that formed the gate that hid her from where she heard the voice. She peered around to catch a glimpse of what he was yelling at. 

“...so don't think I'm blind!” He was saying. He was encroaching on a girl Max was able to recognize from the back; Kate Marsh. “I see everything here at Blackwell. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Kate cowered as she tried to back away from the head of security. “No, and leave me alone!”

David wasn’t touching her, but something about the interaction rubbed her in the entirely wrong direction. Anger seized her by the throat. Who would raise their voice at Kate? She was the sweetest girl Max knew. What the hell was Madson’s problem? And yet, even with all the anger built in her throat, Max froze in place.

"You can't fool me. I know everything about this school." Madson was saying. "I know what you've been up to. I won't let your reckless behavior-- or anyone else's-- ruin the integrity of the good people of this school. I'm doin' this to help you. Just tell me who you're workin' with and I'll let you go about your day."

"But I'm not working with anyone." Kate replied meekly, trying to back away.

"Then where'd you get the drugs from?"

"I told you, I don't use drugs."

"Someone is funneling 'em through the school." Madson argued, unable to take no for an answer. What, did Madson think she was a drug mule? He should point that energy at Nathan. "I know you're a part of this." He continued, even as she started to walk away. "I'll get to the bottom of it one way or another."

Kate bowed in on herself, defeated and in pain. Her face was red, like she was embarrassed and trying not to cry. Max knows the feeling well. She backed away in the opposite direction as Madson, towards Max. Shit. Before Max could react-- do literally anything to make it not seem like she was just spying on her-- Kate spotted her.

Her eyes narrowed into pure fury. "Hope you enjoyed the show." she spat, walking right up to Max and then right past her. "Thanks for nothing, Max."

Max swallowed a sour feeling. Shit, that was awful. Kate doesn't deserve to be hassled like that. Who in their right minds assumes Kate the good Catholic girl does drugs? Max totally could've done something but she just... froze. Like always.

This is definitely the kind of situation where she should use her rewind. This power was getting pretty addicting. But that's not her fault-- it was kinda hard to ignore how easy things were using this rewind as a crutch. And besides, Max isn't doing this for herself, it's for Kate! She was already having a bad day, she doesn't need this. (Okay, maybe it's a little bit for herself. Max doesn't want her friend to be upset with her! Is that a crime?)

Max reached out and utilized her power, yanking back time little by little, until she could see Madson and Kate arguing again.

"...leave me alone." Kate was saying, as David stepped in closer.

Okay. Oh god. What does she do? What does she say? Just do something, come on.

“Hey, why don't you leave her alone?” Max heard herself say, stepping out from her spot at the gate. Both pairs of eyes turned to her as she made herself known. 

No backing down now. Max thought. She walked over there, hoping to dog that she looked more confident than she felt.

Madson sneered at her. “Excuse us, this is official campus business-“ 

“Excuse me, you shouldn't be yelling at students.” Max sneered right back. “Or bullying them.”

“Hey, hey, nobody is bullying anybody. I'm doing my job.” Said Madson, jumping onto the defensive.

“No, you're not.” Max countered. “What part of grilling Kate Marsh has to do with your job? You know, head of security?”

Kate had moved her way behind Max, and Max felt like she was speaking out of her ass, mimicking the person she wanted to be, and not talking like the person she actually was. Did Madson notice how her voice shook?

He narrowed his eyes. “You're part of the problem, missy. I will remember this conversation.” He made sure to give Max a final stare down before stalking off toward the dormitories.

Max watched him leave through the gate, she suspected Kate did the same because for a moment, neither of them said a thing.

“Oh, Max,” said Kate quietly. “That was great. I think you scared him for once.” Max turned to face her. Kate looked shaken, but alright. Max couldn’t have looked any better. Max nodded and Kate paused for a moment, holding her eye. “I have to go, but thank you. It means a lot.”

“Anytime, Kate.” Said Max, as Kate took her leave a little behind Madson.

Max sighed, tension in her shoulders easing. She did it. Thank dog.

I felt like an actual everyday hero helping Kate, Max thought, trudging her way along the path toward the parking lot, but now Officer David Dickhead is after me. Maybe I should rewind and mind my own business? 

Max kept walking. She hated how she kept second guessing herself like this. She thought that now that she had the power to rewind time, she would stop thinking “what if what if” every time she made a decision. 

Actually, I'm glad I stepped in that time. Max told herself. Can't stand to see people being bullied.

The autumn breeze shook the trees, sending a flurry of red and orange leaves tumbling down around her as she made her way through the quad again. Brooke and her drone were gone, but more students were hanging and laying around the green in her place. Max heard snippets of conversation that she didn’t retain as she zoned out to take in the crisp fall air.

Soon, she made it to the concrete steps where she had helped Steph move a box earlier. Her shoes slapped the pavement as she hopped down it and strode past the beach and the bus stop and out into the parking lot. Finally. 

Why did it feel like it took all day to get here? It felt like well over a day since her class, and her trip to the bathroom…

No, she thought, don’t think about that. 

She scanned the blacktop for Warren. She saw the graffiti on the gate wall reading “CARS=DEATH” and someone’s toilet papered bike. There was an old beaten up truck parked sideways over the handicapped spots. 

Now this really pisses me off. Max thought. So entitled. “Sorry handicapped folks, my truck needs these two spots more than you.” Bastard.

Someone had put missing Rachel posters under the windshield wipers of most of the cars. Someone was really devoted to finding her. 

She kept scanning the area. Then, she spotted movement. In her pursuit of Warren, she found Juliet first. Is this where she walked off to? She was sitting by the high curb, still staring forlornly at her phone. Did she and Zachary just miss one another? She had seen Zach outside the dorm, and she knew Juliet must have passed there to get here. Max decided to approach her.

“I don’t get it,” Juliet said to herself, “why did Zach and Victoria do that to me?”

“Hi Juliet,” Max said as softly as she could. “how are you doing?”

Juliet snapped out of some daze to look up at her. Her eyes were red. “Oh. Hey, Max. Sorry, I'm still screwed up.”

“Sorry you had to find out about Zachary that way… or any way.”

Juliet scowled. “Better sooner than later. Now that skank Victoria won't be laughing behind my back anymore.”

“Have you talked to Zach yet?” Max asked.

Juliet shook her head. Zach must have left before Juliet came out of the dorms or something. “Mr. Badass Football Hero is such a chickenshit.” She reported lamely, her insults falling short of angry, and sounding more sad. “The photo Vic sent me was a photoshop of his and Victoria's original messages, that she edited to look like it came from Dana. Then when I asked Zach, he said he sexted her as a joke. Haha.” She scoffed humorlessly. 

Max thought of what to say, when Juliet abruptly changed subject and gestured farther down the lot. “I think Warren wants your attention.”

Max looked to her right where she saw Warren waving her over. “He usually does.” Max sighed. “Hang in there, Juliet.”

Juliet nodded in a way that looked nearly depressing, like she was on the verge of tears. Max wished she and Juliet were closer. If they had been, Max would’ve hugged her.

But she doubted it would be received well. Why bother? Max almost hesitated, but eventually turned away to seek out Warren.

“Yo, Max!” He called as she approached, “Check it out!”

He was leaning against a car she didn’t recognize. Was it his? Warren didn’t own a car. 

As she approached, she looked down to pull out the flash drive from her bag. “Here’s your flash. Thanks for letting me use it.” She said, holding it out to him. When she looked back up, he had his arms out like he had been trying to go in for a hug. They stood there, suspended in awkwardness, for a few more seconds. Then Warren snatched the drive from her. 

“No problem.” He said, still awkward as he backed up. There was another pause where neither of them made eye contact. 

Max loved Warren. He was a goofball, he made her laugh, he was one of the few people on campus who talked to her and listened when she talked. But every day, Max got closer to the inkling that Warren felt something for Max that was not friendship. No one had liked Max like that before, so she was flattered but… she didn’t like him that way. It made for more than a few tense situations.

She sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t even ask her about it. That would be horribly awkward. What would she even say if he tried to talk to her about that? What if he didn’t want to hang out with her when she rejected him? Would she be able to reject him? The only thing she was more lost about in life was how to approach Chloe…

“Check out my new wheels!” Warren said suddenly, gesturing to the car behind him.

Max looked it over. The blue was what really did it for her. “Cool. Very old school.”

Warren leaned against it again, almost sitting on the hood. “1978, to be exact.” He informed her. “Now we can go to the drive-in. There's one in Newberg, just sixty miles away.”

1978? Max thought. Not even I’m that old school. “You're in the wrong time, Warren.” She laughed. Says the time traveler. “But then, so am I…”

“You okay?” Warren asked, like it was an automated response. Which Max supposed was fair, she usually had something wrong. Her whole damn life was wrong.

She sighed. Her bones felt heavy in her skin. She doubted the day would ever end. “It's been one strange fucking day.” 

“I bet.” Warren empathized. “I heard Victoria got a faceful of paint. I'd pay money to see a photo of that.” He said, like he was asking for more information.

Max shook her head dismissively. Warren may be used to Max knowing everything by listening, but just this once, Max didn’t want to share. “I don't want to talk about it.”

Warren put up his hands. “Geez, you're Little Miss Sensitive today.”

Max bristled. She doubted Warren knew that that wasn't a thing you were supposed to say to women when they were clearly going through something, he didn't seem like he had the capacity to get it. “I wouldn't push your luck, Warren. Not in the mood today.”

Warren shrugged, as if to say ‘fair enough’. “By the way, I saw Daniel's sketch of you online.” He continued. “Not bad, but I could do a much better job.”

“You can draw?” Max asked. Somehow, she couldn’t visualize that. “I thought you were Blinded By Science, not art.”

“Art is Science.” Warren said easily. “Music is math, et cetera, et cetera. I'd put Stephen Hawking against Picasso any day.”

“Hardcore.” Max remarked. “So, you must use a computer to draw.”

“Of course.” Said Warren, like it was obvious. “I'd love to tweak one of your selfies with some cool graphics.”

Sure, like I’m letting anyone look at those ever. Max thought. But then again, it was Warren. He didn’t judge her usually. “That might not suck. I'll let you know.”

“So, did you get a chance to check out the movie booty on my flash drive?” He asked.

Max sighed. “No, I've been way too busy with class… and life.” She admitted.

Warren raised an eyebrow at her. “Damn, girl, you had it, like, a year.”

“Or a week.” She rebutted. Max had intended on watching them, but homework kept piling up until she felt guilty whenever she went to open the movies on her laptop. “I did browse through all the titles, drama queen.”

“Haha.” Warren said lamely “Make sure you watch Cannibal Holocaust if you can.”

“Seen it. That movie is messed up, Warren. Seriously. I don't know why you thought it was funny to put it in the comedy section.” Said Max. “But I was more disturbed by all those emo-vampire movies in there.”

Warren batted his eyelashes at her. “Can't a sensitive high school boy love sensitive vampires too?”

“So you're sensitive...” Max thought aloud with a smirk.

Warren gawked at her. “Ouch... That sounds awful the way you say it.”

Max kept her smile as she put her hands up to show she meant to harm. “No, no, I was impressed you had ‘Faster, Pussycat. Kill! Kill!’ “ she said, thick with sarcasm. 

“Russ Meyer was a genius of black and white.” Warren continued, missing the jab. “Plus, babes with breasts.” He said cheekily.

“Who would beat your sensitive ass down.” Said Max. Which really, was more attractive on girls than boobs. To her, anyway. 

“If I was lucky!” Warren said. Which, true. “Speaking of Mr. Meyer, we should cruise out in my car to an actual movie this week…” he paused to take her in. “…But you seem distracted.”

Max collapsed back in on herself. Was it that obvious? With her luck, today was written all over her. “I don't wanna talk about it.” She sighed. “This is kind of a crazy day for me. I mean, I literally think I'm going crazy.”

Warren leaned in closer. “I may be a pest, but… I'm a good listener.” When Max didn’t continue, Warren bat her arm playfully. “Seriously, I don’t bite.”

Warren’s going to keep asking until I tell him, Max thought. I might as well. He might think I’m crazy, but I want to tell someone. I can trust Warren. Right?

Max walked over to stand next to him, back against the hood of the car. “For reals, Warren, this is between you and me, not social media.”

Warren looked over at her in a side glance. “Don't insult me.” He said softly. “Max, go on.”

Max took a deep breath in, then out. “I had this incredibly bizarro experience in Mr. Jefferson's class today. I mean, life-changing.” Warren was still with her, taking in her words like a plant soaking in the sun. “Have you ever had a dream so real it was like a movie?”

Warren opened his mouth to speak, but got distracted by expensive shoes scraping against the pavement. Max looked to where Warren was looking, spotting Nathan Prescott approaching them swiftly. She tensed. That literally can’t be good. 

“Max Caulfield, right?” He hissed, stopping a bit too close in front of her for comfort. “You're one of Jefferson's photo groupies?”

“I'm one of his students.” Max corrected quietly, as Nathan pushed Warren aside to narrow in on her.

“Whatthefuckever.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “I know you like to take pictures, especially when you're hiding out in the bathrooms.” Max didn’t look him in the eye as he kept trying to catch hers. What was it with people and eye contact today? “You best tell me what you told the Principal. Now.” Oh of course Wells ratted her out. Paralyzed in fear, no words formed on Max’s tongue. “Answer me, bitch!” Nathan spat.

“I told him the truth.” Max said with as much venom as she could muster. “A student had a gun.”

Nathan scowled harshly at her. “No, you told him I had a gun. That's why he dragged me into his office.”

“And did what? Gave you a stern lecture?” Max said, giving as harshly as she got. 

Nathan’s eyes looked wild. “Nobody… nobody lectures me. Everyone tries though... They try…”

Max tried to take a step back, but it was hard with the car in the way. “You should talk to somebody, Nathan…” Max put as gently as she could with the anger she still felt.

“Do not analyze me!” Nathan yelled, making Max flinch. “I pay people for that.” He continued, calmer. “Worry about yourself, Max Caulfield.”

Max was worried about herself, deeply so. She knew talking to the principal would come back around to kick her in the ass. But where the Principal failed, Max wouldn’t. “Take a step back, Nathan Prescott.” She said, as mighty as she could. She wanted to be more bold. She didn’t want to back down now, even if her legs trembled like she did.

Nathan laughed down at her. “Oh, man, you're telling me what to do?”

“Get away from her, dude.” Said Warren suddenly, pushing Nathan away from her by the shoulder.

With no hesitation, Nathan turned back to him and headbutted him hard. Warren doubled back, holding his forehead and falling down on the concrete.

Max stared. “Hey, leave him alone!”

She shoved him as hard as she could, which clearly wasn’t much. He turned around as if she had done nothing to him at all. The second she was in his sights again, he grabbed her by the throat, hard. 

His fingers and nails dug into her neck, almost blocking her airway. It hurt, terribly, and she tried to pry his hand off in a blind panic as he forced her to back up by walking forward. 

“Nobody tells me what to do.” Nathan spat with venom. “Not my parents, not the Principal, and not that whore in the bathroom!”

Max protests were lost in her airway and came out as a squeak. She pushed against his face, yanked on his hand, anything to get out of his grip. She dug her fingernails into his cheek and slashed them across his face as hard and deeply as she could in a desperate attempt for freedom. 

He let her go with a grunt, pushing her to the ground. Max felt a sudden lightness as she gasped for breath. She heard the screech of a car as Max saw a truck pull up directly- and she meant directly in front of her, stopping right where she sat on the concrete.

Max used the hood of the car to pull herself up. As soon as she was on her feet, hands propped up on the hood, facing the windshield, Max saw the driver.

It was the girl in the bathroom. Blue hair under a beanie, black jacket over her shoulders. But she was wearing someone else’s face. A face she would’ve known no matter how much time had passed. And when she spoke, she spoke with a voice she would’ve recognized anywhere.

“Max?” 

“Chloe?”