Stranger in a Familiar Land

[little_pieces_of_time]

Max could practically feel the shift as she stepped not just out of the school building, but into her world once again. The afternoon sun bathed the school grounds in a warm, autumnal light. Students went about their business in small groups or alone, the fire alarm having driven them out and then left them to their own devices.

She had been in that bar for how long? Max wasn't really sure. But here, no time had passed.

The steps in front of the school's doors were littered with the missing person's posters she'd seen in the halls. 'Rachel Amber...' Max read the name, wondering. 'She looks so hopeful and pretty. I wonder what happened to her?'

As she let the poster fall back to join the others, Max was mildly startled by the sound of Principal Well's voice coming on over the campus intercom system. "Would Nathan Prescott come to the front office? Thank you."

So. Moment of truth. Max couldn't help but have low expectations that the principal would do anything to punish Nathan for bringing a gun to school. For... almost killing someone. But they wouldn't know that part. And they'd probably not find the gun, either. They'd just know that the new student was stirring up trouble for 'one of Blackwell's most honored students.' Joy. Being considered a troublemaker for trying to do the right thing was just the icing on the cake that was the loads of homework, the usual school drama, and - oh yeah - the sudden time-travel powers.

At least she didn't have to stress about turning her 'Everyday Heroes' contest photo in to Mr. Jefferson any more. That's one less worry; she'd worry about bearing his disappointment later. She hated to let him down, but she couldn't help but feel that she could bear having let him down better than she could bear public ridicule for her stupid photo.

Whatever. She wasn't going to think about that now.

Max wasn't in any hurry to get back to her dorm, and the October afternoon was still unseasonably pleasant, so she let herself wander. Mrs. Grant seemed genuinely glad to have Max's signature on her petition against surveillance cameras all over campus (Mr. Madsen's paranoia wasn't just focused on Max, it turned out). It felt good to hear her say that Max was her favorite new student, even if Max knew she was the only new student in Mrs. Grant's class this year. It still felt good to hear. At least someone was glad for her presence.

Max loved the effect of having the large banners of Mr. Jefferson's most famous photographs decorating the campus. Stella was standing by one of Max's favorites - the photo was striking, and mildly disturbing in its closeness, how it felt as though the viewer were intruding somehow. Max waved at Stella, offering a slight smile as she came up to her. "Hey there, Stella."

Stella smiled at Max, looking mildly surprised. "Hey, I know you. You're that new quiet girl in Jefferson's class. Isn't he incredible?"

Max gripped her left elbow with her right hand, forcing herself to smile past the realization that Stella probably doesn't even know her name. "I-I think so. We're lucky to have such a famous teacher. And I actually love his work..."

Stella nodded enthusiastically, gesturing to the giant banner beside her. "Me too. 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...plus," she added, chuckling, "he is pretty hot for an older guy. If Victoria wasn't all over him, I would definitely make a move."

That was not the conversational turn Max had been expecting. "Victoria? Victoria is... pretty obvious. I don't think Jefferson is into her," she said, uncomfortable.

"I don't think she's closed the deal," Stella remarked off-hand, oblivious to Max's discomfort. "But then, she's not the only player..."

Wow. Max had thought her mild crush on Mr. Jefferson was bad enough. This was... a bit beyond her. "Now how do you know this?"

Stella smirked at Max. "You have a lot to learn here at Blackwell. Rachel Amber absolutely had sex with him. Well...I heard that from a good source."

"Interesting," Max mumbled with a mild grimace. "See, you learn something new every day at school."

"Like I said," Stella replied, offering a wry grin. "You've got a lot to learn here at Blackwell, Max. See you in class."

Well, at least she knows my name, Max thought to herself as she wandered away again. What a weird conversation. Her phone buzzed as she passed the fountain at the center of the campus, making her smile. That would likely be Warren - she'd better check her phone before he blew it up. Max took a seat on the graffiti'd edge of the fountain to check her messages. As she suspected, there was an absolute wall of texts from Warren - seemed he needed his flashdrive back. She would have to retrieve it from her dorm before meeting him in the parking lot. But really, was there any rush? It had been an insane day, and Justin was already waving at her from over by the steps down to the street.

Justin always seemed so relaxed and at ease. It's probably all the drugs, but Max can't help but be a little jealous of the ease with which he carried himself.

"Yo, Justin," Max smiled at him, coming over.

"Check out the Max!" Justin greeted her cheerfully, definitely at least a little baked. "Come to thrash?"

Max decided to play along, smiling with confidence she didn't really feel. "Oh, yeah. Bring it."

"Oh yeah? What's your first move going to be?" Justin chuckled, dry.

"Uh..." Max internally flailed. He could probably see right through her. "Jump?"

Justin looked disappointed, dismissive, all goodwill and cheer gone. "You're such a poser. If you can't even name a simple noseslide or a tre flip, you should walk on."

The dismissal rankled. Why was she such a moron, incapable of the basic action of talking to people? She should... try again, and try not screw up so much. Max swallowed, taking a breath, and held out her hand. Again, she felt the feeling of being dragged backwards, against the flow of time. Just a little bit. She didn't have to go far.

"Check out the Max!" Justin greeted her cheerfully, definitely at least a little baked. "Come to thrash?"

Max played along, smiling with confidence she didn't really feel. "I came to noseslide, but I'd love to see somebody do a tre flip!"

Justin leaned back, laughing. "Oh, sick, you're no poser."

"Nah, I just can't skate worth shit," Max admitted, hoping her relief didn't show.

Justin waved away her worries. "Check it - we're gonna destroy some rails for you. What do you want to see?"

"Go for a tre flip," Max decides, holding up her camera.

"Let's get Trevor all over that action. Trevor!"

.... Maybe Max shouldn't have taken a picture of Trevor after spectacularly failing the tre flip, but she couldn't miss the opportunity. Justin laughed, seeing her. "I'm stoked to see those photos framed and shit. You're not really a Skate Betty, though."

Max shook her head with a smile, giving the poloroid a little shake and putting it away. "Yeah, not really." But maybe she'll be an action photographer.

"I can tell," Justin replied, making Max's cheeks flush. So he could see right through her. He laughed, seeing her blush. "But we need more girls out here. Rachel Amber and her punk friend used to love skating with us."

There's that name again. "You knew Rachel?" Max asked.

Justin shrugged, the faint worry in his tone suggesting more care than his laid-back attitude would normally allow. "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."

The vehemence of that promise made Max's eyebrows rise. "Who was Rachel's punk friend?"

Justin shook his head. "I can't remember her name... But she was hot. Tats. Blue hair. Hardcore. She stopped hanging out with us after Rachel disappeared...or ran away."

That... sounded a lot like the girl Max had seen in the bathroom with Nathan. The girl who had gotten shot, and then... not gotten shot. Max gripped her arm, suddenly feeling chilly. But Justin was cool, and he had been kind even if he saw through her posing. "Let's chill later, Justin."

Justin gave her a smile. "Any time you want to take some action shots, we're here for you, Max."

Max stepped away, needing to collect herself. Daniel, another classmate and possibly an even quieter soul than Max, surprised her by asking if he could draw her portrait. She felt honored to be asked. Max would make, Daniel said, a good substitute muse. And there was that name again. Daniel's real muse, he told her as he sketched, was Rachel Amber, and it pained him to see her beautiful face on all of the missing person posters around campus. The same face graced nearly all of the photographs filling Evan's personal portfolio, which he had allowed Max to see.

Max wandered back towards the dormitories. Rachel Amber seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at Blackwell, all at once. No one knew what happened to her, but everyone seemed to have the uneasy feeling that, whatever had happened to her, it was nothing good. They had hope, but... only to make themselves feel better.

It had already been a long day - a very long day - but Max could tell it was about to get longer, as she saw Victoria and her crew were sitting on the steps of the girls' dormitory, blocking the door. Scaffolding was set up over the doorway itself, and a nearby paint bucket and brush suggested that the window frames were due for some touch-ups. So there was really only one way in. Through Victoria. Maybe Max could just... walk by?

Victoria looked up from talking with her groupies - Max had to make an effort to think of them as Victoria's friends, to think that someone like Victoria would have friends, and not just groupies. "Oh, look," Victoria smiled disdainfully. "It's Max Caulfield, the selfie ho of Blackwell."

Max stopped walking, gripping her arm. Victoria stood up, brushing nonexistent lint from her fine cashmere sweater, to circle around Max. "What a lame gimmick. Even Mark — Mr. Jefferson to you — falls for your waif hipster bullshit. 'The Daguerreian Process, sir!' You could barely even say that. But I guess you got your meds filled."

Max swallowed as Victoria's groupies - Taylor and... Courtney, Max thought their names were - laughed uproariously at Victoria's joke.

"Since you know all the answers," Victoria said sweetly, "I guess you'll have to find another way into the dorm. We ain't moving. Oh, wait! Hold that pose!" Grabbing her phone, Victoria took a quick photo of Max standing there, stiff and awkward and red-faced. "Sooo original."

Max said nothing. Victoria's eyes narrowed as she sat back down and gave a nasty grin. "Don't worry, Max, I'll put a vintage filter on it right before I post it all over social media. Now, why don't you go fuck your selfie?"

Max fumed as she stepped away, stung, feeling the warmth of shame across her flushed cheeks. Oh, yes, Victoria, I'll get your bony ass out of my way.

The handyman and janitor, Samuel, gave Max a hesitant little wave as he walked by with his ladder and paint-splattered clothes. Max always liked Samuel, even if he was a little odd. So was she, really. He was quiet, and thought a lot about things. There was nothing wrong with that, in Max's mind.

Still trying to get her heart rate to settle down, Max watched as the sprinklers in the flowerbeds alongside the building come on, and watched Samuel carefully climb his ladder, hanging the paint bucket on the scaffolding while he painted the window frames.

Hmm.

If Victoria and her crew were not on the stairs, but... a little in front of the stairs, and something happened to make the paint bucket fall... Splish-splash... Before she can talk herself out of it, Max held out her hand, and dragged herself back through the flow of time.

"-fuck your selfie?"

While Victoria, Taylor and Courtney pointedly ignored her, Max walked away, then leaned down and carefully loosened the handle of the paint bucket. That... should hold just long enough. Maybe. Now she had to get them to move before it falls. But how?

Max watched as the sprinklers in the flowerbeds alongside the building came on. That's it! She waved back at Samuel as she jogged back towards the maintenance room, which Samuel had left open. Fuse box, tool kit, water pressure valve... there! Max turned the valve, upping the pressure, and felt mildly guilty for the thrill in her heart at the sounds from outside by the steps.

"What the hell?" Victoria cried, jumping up from the spray thoroughly wetting the steps as though the water burned her. Like the witch she is, Max mused, grinning. The noise was enough to make Samuel pause and look down from halfway up the ladder. "Are you kidding? Look at this..."

Taylor wasn't happy about getting wet from the sprinkler, but she wasn't freaking out, either. "Chill, Victoria. It's just water—

Victoria turned on her, furious. "Yeah, water on my cashmere! Do you know how much this fucking outfit cost?"

Taylor faltered. "You look...great."

Victoria fumed, continuing to try to brush water off of her sweater. "I can't even chill on the steps..."

Max emerged cautiously from the maintenance room, watching. At the top of the ladder, Samuel hung the paint bucket from a little hook on the scaffolding, and began painting the window frames a brighter shade of white. Max's stomach suddenly flipped when the bucket handle gave way under the weight, sending the full paint bucket tumbling to the ground. Paint splashed every which way, but most importantly, all over Victoria's lovely sweater and perfectly-coiffed hair.

Victoria flipped, furious. "No way! No fucking way!"

Courtney fluttered ineffectually alongside, sounding worried, "You okay, Victoria?"

Getting down from the ladder, Samuel offered a handkerchief spattered with dry paint. "Samuel is sorry. Wet paint is not good for hair, nope. Sorry—"

Victoria backed away from Samuel's offer, disgusted. "Get the hell away from me, weirdo!" Stung, Samuel stepped away, heading towards the maintenance room to fix the sprinkler water pressure.

Together, Courtney and Taylor made the decision to get out of there, heading for the stairs to the dorm. "Hold on, hold on, Victoria, we'll get some towels... We'll be right back!"

Victoria sat back down on the wet stairs, sulking. "So move your ass, before I dry!"

Max leaned against the dormitory wall and chuckled to herself, feeling relief and elation and the strange feeling of power surge through her. It worked! Don't mess with Max, bitches.

But now she still had to get inside the dorm. How to handle this? She would have to talk to Victoria, one way or another.

Here goes something.

Max stepped up to the dormitory stairs again, hesitant now for a different reason than usual. "Uh...hey, Victoria..."

Victoria turned to glare at her. "What do you want, Max?"

Max can see herself taking out her camera... 'Hold that pose!' But... that's not who she wants to be. The thrill of dumping paint on a detested enemy was real, but... it also made her feel... bad. "I am sorry," she said, eventually. "That's an awesome cashmere coat."

Victoria eyed her, looking for any trace of mockery, then turned away. "It was. But there will be another."

Max shrugged. "Well, you always seem to know how to pick the right outfits."

Victoria smirked. "I do have some talent. Mr. Jefferson told me—"

And Max knew how that felt. "I've seen your pictures," she nodded. "You have a great eye. Richard Avedon-esque."

Looking almost surprised, Victoria glanced back at Max. "...He's one of my heroes... Thanks, Max." But the moment passed quickly and the sulk returns. "I hope those sluts get me a towel before they hang a sign on me."

Max grimaced. Victoria didn't exactly make it easy to not hate her.

But Victoria seemed to still be in a reflective mood. She dug in her pocket for her phone. "You deserve a better shot," she remarked, hesitant, as she deleted the photo she had taken earlier. "Sorry about blocking you and...and the "go fuck your selfie".

Max winced slightly. "That was mean. But... also pretty funny."

"Just one of those days, you know?" Victoria shrugged, as though without a care in the world despite the paint drying in her hair and on her cashmere sweater, and scooted over on the steps.

Max gave a slight smile - still not quite comfortable, but a smile nonetheless - and stepped towards the door. "I know exactly what you mean, Victoria. I'll see you later."

Victoria gave a little wave as Max stepped into the dorm. "Au revoir."