Notes: Hi, sorry for my absence. Here's a recap since it's been millennia. [Recap] - Max moved in with her mom and shitty stepdad (ouch) - Everyone has siblings - Max is forced to sit next to Chloe on the bus to school - They hate each other - Wait - Not anymore - Things progress - They talk to each other now - Chloe gives her a stack of comics every day and sometimes a tape - Chloe brings the new issue of Watchmen to Max's house - They read it together - In a really gay way - Max's asshole stepdad is Mad - [chanting] gay, gAY, GAY - Phone date? - Phone date. - Who loves Max? Chloe. She said so herself - Kiss !!!

Chapter Text

MAX

They walked all the way to the elementary school on the corner of Max’s road together. Chloe had taken her further than Max thought was a good idea, but at the same time, telling Chloe to turn around and go home was more difficult than she’d anticipated.

“I’m serious. Go home now.” Max said, dropping Chloe’s hand. Chloe smiled, wrapping a strand of Max’s hair around her finger like she usually did.

“I’ll miss you,” she said, walking backwards. Even when she turned around, she kept looking over her shoulder until she had rounded the corner.

Max sighed. She was all alone now. Steeling herself, she marched towards her house, hands in her pockets.

Jeff was home. She couldn’t really avoid him.

“Had fun with your girlfriend, Maxine?” Max ignored him, darting across the living room as quickly as she could, head down. She closed the bedroom door behind her, heart pounding, but she could still hear him. “Does that mean you’ve given up on men already?”

Max felt her eyes fill with hot tears of rage, but wouldn’t let them spill over — letting herself cry meant admitting that he’d won. Which he hadn’t. Maisie was staring up at her from the mattress on the floor, eyes narrowed like they usually were whenever Chloe came up.

“Is she really your girlfriend?” Maisie asked.

“For the last time, no.” Max shook her head, climbing into bed beside Muffin. She buried her face in his soft fur and fell asleep thinking of Chloe.

CHLOE

Her mom said that if they were going to start hanging out every night after school then they had to start doing homework. She was right, but that didn’t make it suck less… how was she meant to concentrate on algebra when Max was across the table? Chloe looked up from her textbook for what must have been the four-hundredth time — Max was chewing on the end of her pencil, nose scrunched up. It must have been a difficult problem.

Chloe looked at Max’s books, strewn across the table. They were covered in song lyrics ever since Chloe had given her the tapes. Max had absorbed her taste in music until they almost always had the same favourites, except a few. Chloe still wasn’t all that fond of Joni Mitchell, and Max couldn’t get behind new wave. She liked that Max wasn’t just blindly following her tastes — but then, Max had never followed anyone. Chloe liked that about her, too. She couldn’t help but smile when she noticed her phone number nestled in that list of terrible songs, hidden, secret, theirs. Her smile disappeared when she noticed the ugly words scribbled just above. i know your a slut you smell like cum. Chloe’s chest tightened.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Max looked up, surprised at Chloe’s sudden outburst, pencil still resting on her lip. She followed Chloe’s stare, before picking up her pen and scribbling furiously over the words. Her cheeks were red.

“It’s nothing.”

“I thought this had stopped.” Chloe frowned, trying really, really hard not to sound angry. It’s not like she was mad at Max, she was just… well, mad.

“Why would you think that?” Chloe looked down. She thought it would be different now that they were together together, or whatever.

“Just… why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“Because it’s embarrassing.”

“Maybe I could help,” said Chloe.

“Help how?” Max said, shoving the book towards her. “Do you want to punch it for me?”

Chloe clenched her teeth, trying to stay calm. She was just trying to help, for God’s sake. “Do you know who’s doing it?”

“Why? Are you going to punch them?”

“Maybe,” answered Chloe.

Max sighed. “I’ve narrowed it down to people who don’t like me, so… it could be anyone, really.” she deflated, slumping on the table in resignation.

“Not anyone. Someone who has access to your books when you’re not there. Someone in the locker room, maybe?”

“Victoria.” Max said flatly.

“Victoria would never do anything this bad.” Chloe said.

“Are you kidding me? Victoria is president of the I Hate Max club.”

“I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s not like that. We used to be friends.” Chloe knew she sounded defensive, but she couldn’t get rid of this weird edge in her voice. All her words were barbed, and she couldn’t stop it, or quell the little bubble of annoyance in the bottom of her throat.

“Well, you don’t act like friends.”

“Because she’s dating Nathan now.”

“Why does that matter?” Max’s eyes narrowed. She was closing herself up, just like she used to. Chloe couldn’t lie to her now.

“We… dated. I guess. But we were like, thirteen. We didn’t even like, actually date, we just kissed.” Chloe said, trying to sound as nonchalant as she could. Because it really wasn’t a big deal. She tasted like the gross plastic-y manufactured strawberry lipgloss she was wearing. And it was all… gloopy.

“You kissed Victoria?”

“Jesus, it was one time, Max!”

“You still did it.”

“It doesn’t even matter!”

“Did you hold hands?”

“I don’t remember. It was eighth grade!”

It didn’t matter. Or, none of it should have mattered, but Chloe couldn’t help but feel like it did, because it was making Max look at her like she was a stranger, and that was almost more than Chloe could bear. At the same time, she didn’t feel much like apologising.

“You always write in lowercase…” said Chloe. Her words only felt like a good idea for as long as she was saying them. Max paled like she knew where this was going. Chloe continued anyway. “Did you write this yourself?”

Max stood up, shoving the rest of her books in her bag. “Bye.”

“Wait, Max—"

“I don’t want to talk anymore. Goodnight, Chloe.” Max muttered, rounding the corner just as Chloe’s mom came out of the garage. She had that look on her face, the what-do-you-see-in-this-weird-girl look as she watched Max storm out. It was a face Chloe was beginning to recognise.

CHLOE

Chloe lay in her bed that night, thinking about those books. Her name was probably already scribbled out on the cover, just like the ugly words.

Why had she defended Victoria? Max was right, it’s not like they were friends. They didn’t speak anymore. The last time they’d had an actual, honest conversation was when Victoria told her that what they’d done was a mistake, an accident, a secret. And she wasn’t even very nice then.

Chloe thought she was over being shallow. She thought that she was over caring about what other people thought. That’s why she dyed her hair, that’s why she punched Nathan, that’s why she started dating Max — officially, publicly, reputation be damned — but she kept finding pockets of shallowness within herself. She kept finding new ways to betray her.

MAX

There was one day left before Christmas break. Max told her mom she was sick.

CHLOE

Chloe had planned what to say to Max when she showed up. She wanted to make sure she didn’t fuck up again. But she hadn’t planned for Max to not show up at all.

It wasn’t Chloe’s fault that Max lived on an island, that it was so easy for her to cut herself off. She didn’t even have a phone. On the way to pick up Jennifer from ballet, she muttered an apology to the house as she passed. Susan started barking, straining against her chain.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe muttered again sending a rock clattering down a storm drain with her big black boots.

MAX

Max shuffled around her room like a ghost. Jeff was home, but it didn’t matter, because she didn’t want to leave her bed anyway. When her mom offered her dinner, she refused.

“Why are you crying?” Asked Ben as he ate his burrito. It was dripping down his face.

“I’m not,” sniffed Max.

“Yeh yoo are,” he answered, mouth full. Max could see the chunks of meat, the gross strings of cheese as he spoke, and she felt like she was going to vomit. She pushed her plate away, her chair screeching against the linoleum as she stood up. Her mom watched her leave, and for a second, Max thought she might follow her. She didn’t.

“Cn I have zhe res of yoor burri-o?” She heard Ben holler from the kitchen. His mouth was still full.

Max rolled onto her back, hand searching for Muffin’s soft fur, but Muffin was sleeping on the lower bunk today. She felt dumb, lying there by herself, tears slipping into her hairline and crying about literally the smallest, most stupid problem. She had bigger things to cry over, but this somehow hurt the most. Chloe took Victoria’s side over hers. Victoria. Max sighed, closing her eyes and trying not to remember what it felt like to kiss her. What it felt like to believe her when she said she was special.

CHLOE

Chloe’s dad asked if she and Max had broken up.

“Sort of,” answered Chloe.

“That’s too bad,” William said sympathetically.

“It is?” she raised her eyebrows — she thought that William didn’t really like Max.

“It must be. You’re acting like a four year old lost at K-mart.”

“Well, yeah. It is.” affirmed Chloe, pulling the hood of her sweater up and sliding down the sofa.

MAX

Vanessa woke her up early about a week into Christmas break. It was still dark outside. She was standing on her tiptoes to reach the top bunk, whispering.

“Do you want to come shopping with me?”

Max rubbed her eyes. “What?”

“I need to get stuff before the bargain bins are empty. Get dressed.” Vanessa smiled, gently patting her arm. Max quickly realised that she didn’t have a choice.

They bought ice cream once they’d finished shopping, and ran out of napkins, so Max’s hand was all sticky and gross. She didn’t even mind. Her mom was humming a Joni Mitchell song over and over, just the chorus, but Max didn’t mind that, either. Vanessa hardly ever sang anymore. Sitting in the car, looking over at her mom’s smiling face, Max almost told her everything. Almost. She clenched her fists in her lap.

CHLOE

Chloe skateboarded up and down and up and down in front of Max’s house until her stepdad’s truck was gone. One of the kids came out to play in the yard.

“Hey,” Chloe said. He looked up.

“Who are you?”

“Is your sister home?” Chloe asked, leaning over the fence. She tried to look as un-scary as she could. She even smiled a little.

“Maisie?” He asked, tilting his head.

“No, Max.”

The boy picked up his trucks. “I’m not telling you,” he said, running back inside. Chloe picked up her skateboard and walked away.

MAX

She awoke before sunrise on Christmas eve to her mom shaking her arm again. There was frost inside the window today. At some point during the night, Maisie had wriggled under the blankets beside her and curled into her side for warmth, the bunk bed sagging from the weight of them both.Christmas used to be Max’s favourite time of year, but unsurprisingly, she didn’t feel very festive this time around. Her mom wanted to take her shopping again; she needed Max to watch the kids while she dug through bargain bins — she couldn’t leave them here, alone, with Jeff in one of his moods.

It was in Walmart at 7:30am that Max saw her. She locked eyes with her across the aisle, and watched as her gaze flitted from one kid to the next, then to her poor, exhausted mother scrambling for a dented tin at the bottom of a basket labelled ‘reduced’. Joyce Price’s face looked drawn in the fluorescent lights. She must have been tired, awake this early on Christmas eve. Joyce was probably there stocking for the diner — still, it hurt Max in a way that she didn’t think she’d have to feel again anytime soon. Max didn’t think she’d ever have to see her again. At least she wasn’t wearing her usual tight-lipped smile. Her mouth was slightly open, drawing in breath, hand outstretched ever-so-slightly— but Max turned away, face flushing, and rounded the corner before Joyce could say anything.

That evening, everything was normal, which was ironically not normal at all. Their mom had made the same cookies she made every year, and they were all sitting around the table, laughing. Even Jeff. It was like walking on the blade of a knife; Max kept waiting for Jeff’s mood to go sour. He was just drunk enough that he was tolerable, jolly, even. A few more beers… Max could feel her hair stand on end, she could feel the same static-y feeling in the air that happens before a storm. Her mom cleared the plates away, and then brought out the traditional rice pudding. It was a Danish thing that her mom liked to do. Max felt Jeff stiffen to her left.

“What the fuck is this?” He yelled, picking up the bowl and slamming it back onto the table. Pudding went sloshing everywhere.

“It’s rice pudding—”

“I wanted pumpkin fucking pie! Not this shit!”

“It’s traditional —”

“I gave you money for a Christmas dinner! I worked my ass off for that money, and you spend it on this?” His eyes bulge as he stands up, tipping his chair over. Max could smell the alcohol on his breath. He picked up the pudding and threw it against the wall, smashing the porcelain. Jeff stormed out, shoving past Vanessa and grabbing his coat, and when Max heard the door slam she felt herself deflate. At least he was gone.

Their mom scooped the top layer of rice pudding off the floor, and they ate it with raspberry sauce. Max fell asleep long before Jeff got home.