(no subject)

[little_pieces_of_time]

(from here.)



Max continued towards the parking lot, still giddy from having dared to stand up to Mr. Madsen. But... I'm glad I stepped in. I can't stand to see people being bullied. Especially Kate, who was only ever quiet and kind and never did any harm. She had been having such a hard time of things lately, too, with all the rumors swirling around since the last Vortex Club party.

As Max passed, she noticed Juliet sitting over on one of the low walls by the edge of the parking lot, looking distraught at her phone. "...I just don't get it...how could Zach and Victoria do that to me?"

Max hesitated. Juliet hadn't been wrong back in the dorms about Max and her not being close. Max hadn't known Juliet's last name before Juliet had corrected her. But... maybe this weird bravery thing can carry her a bit longer.

"Hi, Juliet," Max said hesitantly, approaching. "How are you doing?"

Juliet looked up, then shook her head a little. "Oh... Hey, Max. Sorry, I'm still screwed up."

Max had helped Dana get free from being confined in her room purely so Max could fetch Warren's flash drive from Dana's room, but she has to admit there was... collateral damage to her decision, and Juliet had born the brunt of that. "Sorry you had to find out about Zachary that way...or any way, really."

"Better sooner than later," Juliet replied with some of her former bite. "Now that skank Victoria won't be laughing behind my back anymore."

Though Juliet didn't know it, the idea of robbing Victoria of a way of bullying someone did make Max feel a little better about her choices. "Have you talked to Zach yet?"

"Mr. Badass Football Hero is such a chickenshit," Juliet spat, with another glare at her phone. "He said he sexted Victoria as a joke. Well ha-ha."

Max winced on her behalf. "Hang in there, Juliet."

"See you around, Max." Juliet managed a brief, wry smile, and Max made her exit feeling... a little better, and she hoped Juliet felt a little better for having been able to vent, as well.

Over at the edge of the parking lot, Max could see Warren leaning on the hood of an older car, raising an arm and calling to get her attention. "Yo, Max! Check it out!"

Oh, right, the flash drive. Max dug in her bag as she approached, trying to find where the flash drive had fallen among her camera, journal and school books. She really should clean out her bag more often.

"What up, Max? How are you?" Holding up the flash drive triumphantly, Max was more than a little startled to find Warren had stepped forward out of his lean and put his arms out, intending to hug her.

"Here's your flash!" she managed, a little frozen with the flash drive held in front of her like a tiny shield. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

Warren, to his credit, took this in stride, and accepted the flash drive back with a smile. "No problem, Mighty Max. Check out my new wheels." He gestured to the car behind him, which to Max looked approximately as old as her instamatic camera.

"Cool," she replied, smiling. "Very old school."

"1978, to be exact," Warren stated proudly. "Now we can go to the drive-in. There's one in Newberg, just sixty miles away."

Just sixty miles? That would mean at least an hour... in the car... with Warren... each way.

"You're in the wrong time, Warren," Max chuckled, shaking her head. "But then, so am I..."

Moreso than usual, she thought to herself. Some of the feeling probably showed on her face, though, because Warren looked curious.

"You okay?"

Max swallowed. How much to tell him? "It's been one strange fucking day," she replied, moving to sit on the car hood next to him.

"I bet," he nodded, emphatically. "I heard Victoria got a faceful of paint... I'd pay money to see a photo of that."

"Really?" Max chuckled, "Wish I would've known..."

Max could see herself almost choosing to take that photo of Victoria. Hold that pose... But, no. Probably enough time had passed that she wouldn't be able to go back that far. And it was probably better that she hadn't made fun of her. Max didn't want to stoop to Victoria's level.

"You probably could have raised a Kickstarter fund just for that one image of her covered in paint," Warren continued to enthuse about the idea. He, like many students at Blackwell, had reason to want to see the Queen B taken down a notch. Max commiserated.

"Had I known that..." No, she probably still wouldn't have. Probably. "Anyway, Victoria took down my photo. So that drama ended well."

"By the way, I saw Daniel's sketch of you online... Not bad, but I could do a much better job."

Was that a note of jealousy in Warren's voice? "You can draw?" Max replied, doubtfully. "I thought you were Blinded By Science, not art."

"Art IS Science," protested the chemistry nerd. "Music is math, et cetera, et cetera. I'd put Stephen Hawking against Picasso any day."

"So you must use a computer to draw."

"Of course. I'd love to tweak one of your selfies with some cool graphics..."

Cool graphics, Warren? Really?

"That might not suck," Max chuckled at his look, and relented, "I'll let you know."

"So did you get a chance to check out the movie booty on my flash drive?"

Max had to admit, "No, I've been way too busy with class...and life."

"Damn, girl, you had it like a year!" Warren protested.

"Or a week," she corrected. "I did browse through all the titles, drama queen."

"Ha-ha. Make sure you watch Cannibal Holocaust."

"Seen it," she chuckles. "I was more disturbed by all those emo-vampire movies in there."

Warren fluttered his eyelashes at her. "Can't a sensitive high school boy love sensitive vampires too?"

Max raised her eyebrows, speculatively. "So you're sensitive..."

"Ouch... That sounds awful the way you say it."

"Not at all," Max relented, in case he really was sensitive about being sensitive. "Sensitive is good, unless you're a pushover. You have hip taste and a quick mind, Warren."

That seemed to make Warren feel better; he smiled, gazing at her. "Thanks for noticing, Max."

"The right girl will too..." Max tried to gently steer Warren away from the crush even she could see coming.

"If I was lucky..." but it went right over Warren's head. "Speaking of hip and fast, we should cruise out in my car to an actual movie this week..." The look on her face told him enough. "But you seem distracted."

Even if he can't get a clue about his crush, he could apparently notice that.

"I... do probably need to talk to somebody...just to get it out of my system..."

"Dr. Warren Graham is in da house. I won't even prescribe you any meds," he replied, turning towards her. "Tell me everything."

Max couldn't be sure how much of this was him joking. She turned towards him, her thumb absently rubbing against the weave of her book bag's strap. "For reals, Warren, this is between you and me, not social media."

Warren blinked at her, his smile fading somewhat as he realizes she's serious. "Don't insult me, Max. Go on."

She isn't really sure where to start - The gun? The time skip backwards? Tripping the fire alarm? No. Earlier. "I had this incredibly bizarro experience in Mr. Jefferson's class today... I mean, life-changing," Max confided, with difficulty. "Have you ever had a dream so real it was like a movie?"

She was looking at him so intently that she didn't see the figure approaching until it was nearly upon them.

Nathan Prescott was tall, looking bigger than he probably was in his burgundy letterman's jacket. And he felt no need to respect their personal space. He only stopped when he was inches from Max's face, knowing that with the car behind her she couldn't back away. "'Max Caulfield,' right? You're one of the Jefferson's photo groupies?"

Max fought that urge to run, disoriented by the sudden animosity when she had been hoping to share her situation with her friend. "I'm one of his students."

Warren could see the tension in her and moved to get between her and Nathan, but Nathan shoved Warren away absently.

"Whatthefuckever," he spat at her. "I know you like to take pictures, especially when you're hiding out in the bathrooms."

She could feel her stomach sink - Principal Wells had sold her out. Had told Nathan who had reported seeing him with a gun. He hadn't planned on taking any action to to hold Nathan accountable. Nothing sticks to the golden son of Blackwell, apparently. She felt sick.

"You best tell me what you told the Principal," Nathan demanded. "Now." Max couldn't think straight. She couldn't run. Couldn't... "Answer me, bitch!"

Don't try to think, Max, just stick to the facts. "I told him the truth," she said, willing her voice not to shake, trying not to show her fear. "A student had a gun."

"No, you told him I had a gun," he hissed at her. "That's why he dragged me into his office!"

The sick feeling at the wrongness of the situation boiled up into anger. "And did what? Gave you a stern lecture?" she snapped back at him.

"Nobody... nobody lectures me," Nathan's tone quietened, becomes very flat, his eyes on hers. "Everyone tries though... they try."

The dark humor in his tone made Max remember the sound of him talking to himself in the bathroom before the girl with the blue hair had come in. Psyching himself up. Max could feel her hands wanting to shake, and bit the inside of her cheek. The minor pain helped her focus. "You really should talk to somebody, Nathan."

Nathan clenched his fists, rage boiling up again. "Don't try analyze me, bitch. I pay people for that. You worry about yourself, Max Caulfield."

Threats. Should she threaten to call the police? No, she doesn't think she could take another disappointment from ineffective authority figures, today. Max tried to be firm, non-threatening but firm. This wasn't a confrontation that will go anywhere good. "Take a step back, Nathan Prescott."

"Oh, man," the derision in his tone stung, "you're telling me what to do?"

Warren seemed to have found his own courage, stepping in. "Hey - get away from her, dude!"

Without warning, Nathan headbutt Warren, who fell, clutching his head in pain.

Alarm rose in Max, as she moves without thought to shove Nathan away. "Hey, leave him alone!"

Nathan had a good six inches and at least fifty pounds on her - the shove does nothing but return his attention to her. He grabbed her by the neck, his fingers digging in under her jaw, her feet barely touching the parking lot pavement. Panic broke through and she struggled blindly, feeling the blood pounding in her ears.

"Nobody tells me what to do!" he yelled at her upturned face, practically spitting, "Not my parents - not the Principal - and not that whore in the bathroom!"

"Stop it! Let me go!" Max felt her fingernails find his cheek, felt them draw blood, and then found herself shoved roughly to the asphalt, landing hard on her book bag. She barely had time to react when an ancient, beige-colored truck screeched to a stop inches from her. Needing her feet under her again and using the truck's grill to help her up, Max pulled herself up and saw... the girl from the bathroom in the driver's seat. Blue hair, tattoos... and now that Max can get a good look, a familiar face.

The girl seemed to be having the same realization.

"Max?"

"Chloe?"

Nathan, holding his bleeding face, sounded disgusted but resigned. "No way. You again?"

Warren jumped at Nathan suddenly and knocked him to the ground. Score one for the nerds. But it didn't last. Nathan pulled Warren to the ground and hit him repeatedly.

"Warren!" Max cries out in alarm.

Warren struggles, but shakes his head. "Go, go! I got this!"

Max could see that he clearly hadn't 'got this,' but Chloe leaned through to the passenger side and opened the truck door next to Max, hurriedly, "Get in, Max!!"

Max scrambled up into the truck, just as Nathan got up and kicked the door closed.

"Get your punk asses out of there now!" he yelled, beating on the already-dented door. "Don't even try to run! Nobody messes with me! NOBODY!"

But Chloe had already put her foot down, and as they sped off Max looked back and saw head of security David Madsen running into the parking lot towards Nathan.



It was a while before Max calmed down enough to speak without her voice shaking. "Man, Nathan Prescott is messed up," she muttered, pressing her palms against her closed eyelids. "And dangerous... This day never ends."

Chloe had saved Max, but there was a lot that hadn't been said. '"Oh, and thanks, Chloe!'" she prompted, dry and more than a little mocking. "After five years you're still Max Caulfield."

Max looked down and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Chloe wasn't wrong. It had been five years since they'd last seen each other. Since they'd last talked. Since the accident. Since the funeral.

"Don't give me the guilty face," however weird today might have gotten, Chloe still knew her too well. "At least pretend you're glad to see me."

Max shook her head, apologetic. "I am seriously glad to see you," she protests mildly, then gives in. "Oh, and thanks, Chloe. It makes perfect sense I'd see you today."

"Yes, it's been that kind of day, hasn't it?" Max had to admit that Chloe would also have plenty of reason to have been having a strange day. "So what did that freak want with you?"

Should she lie and say she doesn't know? Or just... deflect? She wasn't up to sharing just how weird her day has been, any more. At least not with Chloe. Not yet. They had other issues to discuss first, she knew.

"Hopefully nothing after today," she deflected and changed the subject. "So... how do you know Nathan?"

Max watched as Chloe did the same thing. "He's just another Arcadia asshole," Chloe deflected, then remarked, "Your friend really took a beatdown for you."

Max smiled a little. They were still too similar, however different they had become. "Warren? Yeah, I owe him big time."

Chloe sighed, "You're not the only one in debt, and you're already causing trouble."

Max couldn't deny it. "I thought it would be quiet here. Feels so weird to be back."

"So I guess Seattle sucked hard?"

There was almost an edge of hope in Chloe's tone. Max knew it - Chloe was still hurt by her leaving, and rightly so. Some part of her wanted Max to regret it.

"I guess," Max admitted, "It was cool, but...I felt kinda lonely - out of my league."

"I would think you'd fit right in with the art school hipsters," Chloe remarked, dry and mildly gratified.

Like she could talk! Max looked at her, just as dry. "Right. You look like the cover of Hipster Girl dot com."

"At least you're still a smartass," Chloe's quips.

"That's why I'm here," Max smiled smugly, hearing the echoes of their earlier closeness.

But Chloe wasn't about to let her get off that easily. "Please, girl," she snorted, dry. "You came back for Blackwell Academy, not me."

Max hesitated. Chloe wasn't wrong, and would absolutely call Max out if she tried to deny it. "Of course," she answered, instead, ducking her head. "It's one of the best photography programs in the country...and my favorite teacher, Mark Jefferson."

"So you came back to Arcadia for a teacher...not your best friend."

It stung because it was true. "Don't you think I'm happy to see you?"

"No." Chloe's tone flattened. "You were happy to wait five years without a call, or even a text."

And what could Max say to defend against the truth? I wanted to... But that didn't change that she didn't. Her intention didn't matter in the slightest. She could deny Chloe's obvious hurt - Oh, give me a break, Chloe... but no. Max knew she hurt Chloe, disappearing when Chloe needed her there, even if she had no hand in the accident that had happened or her family moving. She couldn't deny the years of silence, and dismissing Chloe's hurt would be worse.

Max ducked her head. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "I know things were tough on you when I left."

"How would you know?" Chloe wasn't satisfied. "You weren't even here!"

Max looked at her. "I didn't order my parents to move specifically to fuck you over, Chloe," she protested.

Chloe glanced at Max in between watching the road, glaring. "You've been at Blackwell for almost a month without bothering to let me know. 'Nuff said."

Max shook her head. "I just wanted to settle in first and not be such a shy cliché geek. I totally would have contacted you..."

But she could hear the lie even as she said it.

"I bet you don't use these sad excuses on Mr. Jefferson... Don't use them on me, Max," Chloe replied, quiet, not looking at her.

Max fell into silence, stung. Nothing Chloe had said had been wrong or out-of-line. Max had been a bad friend, had not been there when Chloe had needed her the most. And this was the fallout. Needing something to do with her hands, Max bent down to retrieve her camera from her book bag. Max stared, mouth suddenly dry, as the spring-loaded hinge of the flash flapped loosely in her hands.

"Broken," she murmured, horror in her throat, "Oh man, are you cereal?"

Chloe snorted, dry, "Wow, haven't heard that one in a while..."

"Not everything changes," Max retorted, mild, distracted, "Except my camera has officially taken a shit."

"My step-douche has a boatload of tools," Chloe shrugged. "Maybe you can fix it at my place."

"I need very specific, tiny tools," Max said, looking hopefully at Chloe.

"Nerd alert!" Chloe chuckled. "My stepdad has a fully-stocked garage. And he actually is a tiny tool. Welcome home, Max." Her tone couldn't have been drier.

Max saw Chloe's house before they pulled up to it, still half-painted, pale blue only reaching halfway up the siding before fading into the dull beige. It had never been finished, and now sat, neither fully one thing or the other. Chloe parked in the driveway, and both she and Max got out.

"Come on in, don't be shy," Chloe welcomed her, dry and only somewhat friendly.

"The house still looks...nice," Max tried.

Chloe smirked at her over her shoulder as she led the way inside. "Home, shit, home."