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Max pressed her fingers into her cheek, feeling out the remnants of the bruise where Billy—the bruise where she had been hit. It was in that yellowish stage of healing, plastered across her cheek bone. But she could now move her face without hurting. Even pressing on it didn’t hurt as much as it would have a few days ago.
She skated down the road toward Mike’s house. Not that she wanted to hang out with Mike, it was just.
Home had been tense lately.
There had just been the funeral. Then, of course, there’d been her medical expenses.
Since she’d been knocked unconscious, the doctors had had to scan her brain to make sure there wasn’t any damage they were missing. Of course, nothing had shown up. It was an expensive waste of money that they really couldn’t afford right then. She didn’t even need any medicine, just rest. It was a pointless waste of time. There wasn’t any point in going to the doctors other than wasting even more of her mom’s money.
Max wasn’t the only one struggling with medical bills, though. Jonathan had managed to avoid the hospital after Starcourt, because all the bruising he had gotten from his former boss-turned-meat monster was hidden under his clothing. The EMTs hadn’t caught it when they finally showed up (too late to save Billy).
She knew Will and Nancy were both worried about Jonathan, but she didn’t know him well enough herself to know how he was doing. Apparently he’d hurt his back pretty badly.
And then, of course, Max, Mike, and Steve had all managed to get concussed. Now the three of them were stuck “resting their brains,” or whatever the doctors thought they needed. Max was already going crazy. And they expected her to keep this up for an entire month? Bullshit.
She was sick of being treated like an invalid because of her concussion, sick of being treated with baby gloves because her stepbrother was dead. She wanted to scream. She wanted to break something.
She wanted Billy to still be alive, to not have sacrificed himself, but she was also glad he was gone.
It was a horrible thought. She wasn’t supposed to feel that way about her stepbrother.
Besides. He had saved El.
Max went faster, trying to leave her thoughts behind her. She wanted to forget. She wanted to be free, even if just for a moment. She sped up, weaving her way towards the Wheeler house.
She felt dizzy. Technically, she wasn’t even supposed to be skating. Her mom would probably be mad if she knew. But her mom was preoccupied, lately, with—with things. Her mom didn’t have to find out.
There was a turn in the road. She took it at speed—too fast. Her board slid out from under her. She crashed to the ground, slamming her hands down before her head could hit concrete.
Max’s wrists ached from the shock. She pushed herself up, eyes watering from the pain. It took several tries to get her knee to bend, though she could tell from experience it was just bruising. Nothing serious. Nothing permanent. The side of her arm was on fire, though it died down with each passing second.
She stood up, grimacing at her arm. Her palms were raw, and the side of her arm was scraped up. Blood was welling up, preparing to drip down.
Shit.
It wasn’t the worst fall she had ever had, but it wasn’t great. It would be a pain in the ass hiding this from her mom. She brushed off the rocks and dirt from her arms as best she could. It smeared the blood around, but she didn’t have anything to clean it up with.
None of the scrapes were long, but there were a lot of them.
She hopped back on her board and continued on to the Wheelers. Nancy and Mike had a stock of first aid kits, after everything. Mr. Wheeler didn’t think it was “proper” for her and Mike to spend time alone together—which, ew—but hopefully he’d leave them alone if she said she just needed to bandage her arm.
No one was outside Lucas’s house. Max felt her chest tighten. She turned away and walked up to the Wheelers’.
The door was unlocked, so she let herself in. There was Mr. Wheeler, sitting in his armchair and reading the newspaper like always.
His eyes caught hers over the top. He squinted at her, but his expression was hidden behind the paper.
“Hi, Mr. Wheeler!” she called over. She held up her bloody arm. “I fell on my skateboard and need to wash the blood off.” Then she hurried down to the basement before he could respond.
It was dark downstairs, like it had been the past couple weeks ever since the mall. There was a lump on the couch she knew to be Mike.
He’d said bright lights made him feel nauseous now. He’d been doing a lot of lying on the couch in the dark.
Mike had hit his head harder than she had, and because he’d been unconscious for longer, the doctors had been more worried about him. Mike’s symptoms were definitely worse than hers. She could tell, even if he didn’t walk to talk to her about it. She wasn’t sure if he was even telling El, or Will, or Nancy. Both he and Steve were supposed to be taking it very easy, though Steve had had previous concussions that made the doctors more nervous.
Precious concussions like the last time Billy had interacted with the Party.
Stop thinking about Billy.
Max set her skateboard down next to the stairs, then headed over to Mike.
She thumped the side of the couch, watching him startle. He looked dazed. He must have been feeling worse today.
“I know you have shit taste in movies, but I brought a VHS of Night of the Living Dead.”
He blinked at her. “What are you doing here?” he asked slowly.
“I just said. I brought over a movie.”
He squinted at her. “Night of the Living Dead? Why?”
“We’ve been over this,” she said, burying down her concern. Why would she be concerned about Mike? “Neither of us are allowed to go to the movies, so we can’t see Day of the Dead. This time we’re rewatching Night of the Living Dead, next is Dawn of the Dead.”
Shit. Maybe this was a bad day. Maybe the concussion was worse than they’d thought.
Max stepped away from the couch, feigning nonchalance. “If you’re gonna be a loser, I’ll just watch it by myself. But I need to clean off my arm.”
“Wait, what happened?” He shot up from the couch, sounding worried.
“Nothing. I just need to borrow some bandaids.”
“Do you even know where the first aid kit is?”
Max scoffed. “What, do you think it’s my first time down here? Of course I know where it is.”
She ignored his response. She went to the bathroom, turning on the sink and sticking her arm under the water. Luckily there weren’t many rocks left in the scrapes, but it still stung to remove them. She hissed in pain, but kept brushing at her arm until they were all gone.
She had had much worse falls than this one. Really, it wasn’t even that bad.
She heard the creak of footsteps, and then Mike came up next to her and set the first aid kit on the edge of the sink.
Max said quickly, “I don’t need your help.”
“It’ll be easier for me to do it.” He was already pulling bandaids out. “You can only use one hand.”
She refused to admit that Mike Wheeler had a point. Definitely not to his face. But, she didn’t stop him from adjusting her arm so he could see it better.
More carefully than Max had seen him touch anyone other than El or Will, Mike slowly positioned the bandaids over the scrapes. He worked harder than she had expected to make sure everything was covered. He was even making sure the bandaids didn’t overlap with any of the other scrapes. Honestly, it was a better job than she had expected him to do for her.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
Mike busied himself with cleaning up the counter instead of responding.
Then, when she’d given up on a response, he spoke up. Quietly, like an admission, he said, “I was reading. Earlier. I started getting really lightheaded.”
He was still looking down at the sink, ignoring her gaze. She turned away and looked at an interesting spot on the wall.
“I got nauseous from skating here. I think I was moving my head around too much.”
Neither of them looked the other in the eye.
“We can get some food,” Mike said, “if you’re feeling up to it. There are snacks in the kitchen. We can watch the movie after we eat.”
Max snorted. “I think your dad might have something to say about that.”
“So then I’ll grab the snacks,” Mike said like it was obvious. She supposed it was. “You can set up down here.”
Oh, he’d made it too easy. “What, you think women should clean up all men’s messes?”
“No, that’s not—! Ugh! Stop twisting my words!”
“I’ll come with you. Who knows what snacks you’d pick out if you don’t have someone normal come with you.”
Mike rolled his eyes at her, but she could see the corner of his mouth twitching. “Like you’re so normal.”