“I can’t do the splits,” I joke with a small smile.
Maxwell makes a noise that sounds almost like a laugh.
“So, I’m guessing you’re pretty popular, huh?” I ask.
“I guess if you want to put it that way.”
“I’m guessing your girlfriend is a cheerleader,” I say halfheartedly.
“Yeah.”
Something in my chest pings me like a poke. “What’s her name?”
“Caitlin,” he replies. He sighs in the darkness, and the rustling sound of his fingers running through his hair fills the silence of the room.
“Oh.” I look down, lace my fingers together, and stuff them between my legs.
“Yeah.”
“Huh?” I look at him through the dark. “You don’t sound too happy.”
“It’s just . . .” His voice falters. “With me being here, I don’t know what she’s doing. She could’ve decided that she wants to move on . . . Or maybe she’s already moving on.”
“What is she like?” I ask, even though I don’t care to know.
“I guess she’s sweet. She has blue eyes and reddish-orange hair.”
“Oh, so she’s a ginger,” I say in mock awe.
“If she heard you say that about her, she’d kill you,” he says.
Oh, yes, she’s very sweet. “No sense of humor?”
“Not really.”
“Do you miss her?” I ask, lowering my voice.
“No. Yeah? . . . I don’t know.” Maxwell inhales deeply. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No. No boyfriend,” I reply, shaking my head. I blindly stuff some hair behind my ears.
“Wow.” He almost sounds shocked.
“What?” I ask with some laughter in my voice. “Can’t a girl be single?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What do you mean, you guess?”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, tell me,” I prod.
“Hey,” Maxwell says, changing the subject, “what do you want to be when you’re older?”
“You mean if we get out of here alive?”
“We will get out of here alive.”
“Sure,” I mumble with some doubt. “Um . . . I’d probably have to say a photographer. Why?”
“I don’t know.” I can picture him shrugging. “So you like to take pictures?”
“Yeah. I love capturing life’s memories in a single image.” I’m silent for a moment before I ask, “What about you? What do you want to be?”
“I don’t really want to say,” he says, shying out.
“Oh, come on. I told you mine,” I say nudging Maxwell’s foot with mine.
“Why are you so curious?” he asks.
“Well, I’d kinda like to know that I’m not stuck in a room with a future murderer,” I joke.
“I’m not going to be a murderer,” Maxwell says, chuckling.
“Then tell me what you want to be,” I say, laughing a little myself.
“Fine.” He makes his tone deadpan. “I want to be a history teacher.”
“A history teacher?” To think of Maxwell, the boy with the rough exterior, being a history teacher or any teacher, surprises me. “Wow.”
“I know. It’s kind of embarrassing.” He sounds like he’s smiling but there is some longing in his words.
“No, no, it’s not that,” I say quickly. “I just think it’s amazing that you want to be a teacher.”
“You’re just saying that.” He sounds embarrassed.
“I am not,” I deny.
“You have to be.” His voice holds some doubt.
“Why?”
“Because,” he sighs, “when Caitlin and I were discussing . . . you know, the future . . . it kind of slipped out.”
“What did she do?” I’m afraid to ask.
“She frowned and asked me what kind of job was that.”
“That’s awful.” There is another ping to my heart. “She said it was a waste of my high GPA.” He’s struggling to keep the disappointment from his voice. “She’s right though.”
“How can she be right when that’s your dream?” I ask, wanting to slap Caitlin. “Being a teacher is perfect if that is what you want to be.”
“I don’t know.” He sounds stuck on Caitlin’s words.
“What did she say she wanted to be?”
“An accountant.”
I sit silent in the darkness for a bit, soaking Maxwell’s words in, but only three words slip through my mind, around and around and around: Caitlin’s a bitch.
“Be a teacher,” I say after a moment.
“What?” He sounds surprised by my words.
“You have to. You can’t just drop your dream like that,” I say. “What Caitlin said was slanderous.”
“But–”
“You have to.” I reach through the darkness and touch Maxwell’s shoulder. “Want to make a promise?”
“Like what?” he asks.
“You have to promise me that you will become a teacher if we get out of here.”
“And what about you?”
“You can make me promise whatever you want me to promise,” I reply.
“That’s ridiculous.” He makes it sound like I’m off my rocker.
“How?” I demand.
“It just is.”
“No way. By the time we get out of here, you have to think of a promise that I must keep for you, while you have to promise to become a history teacher for me. Okay? No matter what Caitlin tells you.”
“Are you some kind of psychiatrist?” Maxwell asks.
“No. Why?”
“Then can we get off this subject?” he asks. There is some easiness in his voice that lets me know that he isn’t in his dick-mood.
“Fine, tell me about your family,” I say, changing the topic.
“Why do want to know about my family?”
“I don’t know. You said you wanted to change the topic.”
“There’s nothing to tell about my family,” Maxwell says simply.
“There must be something to say about them.”
“I don’t know. My dad’s a lawyer and my mom stays home to take care of the place.”
“Your dad’s a lawyer?” I gawk. “What kind of cases does he do?”
“I don’t know. I guess whatever cases are out there.”
“Like murders and thefts?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“That’s so cool,” I say, wishing my parents were more interesting.
“Not really. My mom doesn’t really like his job.”
“Why not?”
“She doesn’t think it’s right that he has to defend the guilty, because of her religion and all.”
“Oh, right, your mom’s a Lutheran.”
“Yeah.”
“What about your brothers?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Do they all have the same rough exterior as you?” I snicker.
“What do you mean ‘rough exterior’?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” I say with a short laugh.
“About how I acted?” I hear the smile in his voice. “Well, Tyson kind of does.”
“Calvary doesn’t?”
“No. Cal’s the nerd of the family.”
“The nerd? How?”
“He’s just super smart,” Maxwell explains. “He’s going to the University of Pennsylvania to do some cancer study or something.”
“Well, that’s cool.”
“Yeah. My mom is pretty excited knowing that he’ll be able to save lives.”
“How much older are your brothers?” I ask.
“Tyson is two years older, and Cal is six years older,” he replies.
“So you’re the baby in the family,” I joke.
“I am not the baby of the family,” Maxwell says sternly, not picking up that I was only joking.
“Of your family you are.”
“Shut up,” he says even though I can
tell he is smiling.
I laugh then shush up right away, turn in the darkness, and listen to see if I had woken up Lynne. After a moment of silence, I know she’s still asleep.
“What about you?” Maxwell asks.
“You mean my family?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing much. My mom works in a bakery, and my dad works at a paper mill.” The image of my parents pop into my head and makes my heart tug. I can remember every detail of my parents; my mom with her matching brown hair and brown eyes and my dad with his salt-and-pepper hair and dark hazel eyes. My eyes sting with tears at the thought of them.
“Sara?”
“What?” A sob squeezes my voice into a choking noise.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Again, I can’t stop the tears. The picture of my parents remains on the top of my memory, even when I pinch my eyes shut and urge them to go away.
“Hey, come here.” In the darkness, I hear Maxwell stand from his cot. He grabs my arms and pulls me to my feet. I’m shocked for a moment, but after a second, I let myself collapse against him.
“I miss them,” I cry, burying my face into his dirty cotton shirt. I don’t care that he smells like sweat and dust. I can feel his arms wrap tightly around me as I wrap my arms around his chest. My tears are wetting his shirt.
“Shh . . .” I hear him whisper. He rests his chin on top of my head.
“Maxwell.” I clutch to the back of his shirt.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he whispers soothingly. I can feel his warm breath on top of my head.
“What about Lynne? She doesn’t deserve this. She should be living happily at home with all her toys and movies and little dresses.”
“Lynne’s fine,” Maxwell says.
“I’m trying,” I sob, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m trying so hard to keep her safe.”
“I know.”
“I just want her to grow up okay.”
“I know.” His hand starts to rub gentle circles on my back. “You’re doing a great job.”
“I just miss them so much, Maxwell,” I say, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t understand why they want us.”
In the dark, Maxwell stays quiet, listening to my choked sobs.
“I want to be back, hanging out with Leigha and Zoe, worrying about passing classes and being asked to the upcoming dances. Normal stuff. Not whether or not we’ll be fed for the day.”
Maxwell continues to listen.
“I’m scared, Maxwell.” I tilt my head up, trying to see him in the darkness. I can’t. “I try to act brave for Lynne, but I’m scared.” I bury my face back against his chest. Under my cheeks, I can feel the tightness and ridges of Maxwell’s muscular chest. “Ever since Lynne and I got here, I’ve been having nightmares. Every night its different, but they all have the same ending.” I take in a shaky breath thinking about my nightmare I had just before I had woken up.
“Sara.” Maxwell’s voice is soft but demanding. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” I sob.
“Because that’s another reason I was being an ass to you and Lynne.”
“What?” I take a small step back but still in Maxwell’s arms. I unwind my arms from around him and swipe my wet cheeks. “Wh–what are you saying?”
I hear Maxwell sigh. “I was afraid, later after your guys’ arrival, that since the two of you were here, I wouldn’t have the power to fend for myself. I thought that if I had to start to defend you guys too, something bad would happen to me.”
“Like what?” My voice comes out choked.
“I don’t know. It just–it just made me a little afraid.”
“You? Afraid?” His words make me smile through my tears.
“Guys get afraid a lot, too, you know,” Maxwell admits. “We just don’t like to admit it.”
“Why?” I sniff. “Everyone gets afraid.”
“There’s reasons.” He is silent for a moment. “I mean, it would be embarrassing for us guys to freak out when we’re with a girl.”
“Are you scared now?” I whisper, looking up in his direction.
“Honestly?”
“Yes.” I nod slightly even though I know he can’t see me.
“Yeah, I am.” His voice is quiet but close.
I can’t form any words. Instead, I squeeze my arms around him. “I’m glad I met you.”
“You are?” He sounds genuinely surprised.
I nod, my left cheek rubbing against his chest.
“Why?”
“Because,” I start, “if I would have never met you, I wouldn’t know there could be such kindness like this among two complete strangers.”
“That’s why?” Maxwell asks.
I nod and back out of his arms.
“I’m sorry.” I rub the back of my hand over my runny nose. “I’m saying all this stuff about me when you’re probably just as wrecked.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about,” Maxwell says softly.
“Yeah, but I got your shirt all wet.” I swing a hand out towards him and accidently smack him in the chest. “And now I just hit you.”
Maxwell chuckles in the darkness. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“It’s fine.”
I slowly back up until my legs hit the bars of my cot, and I sit down. “It’s like I want to go back to sleep, but I don’t want to because I know if I do, I’ll just have another nightmare.”
“I have an idea.” In the darkness, Maxwell moves, then there is the sound of something being lifted. “Put your feet on the bed,” he orders.
I scoot back and swing my legs up with me. “What are you doing?”
“There.” The sound of something dropping onto the carpet sounds in the quietness of the room. Then I hear Maxwell right beside me. “Remember, if you wake up at any time, I’ll be right here.”
“Okay.” I pick up my blanket and slide under it. “Goodnight, Maxwell.”
“Night.”
I lay down, resting my head on the matted pillow that is half taken up by Lynne, and face the darkness in the direction of the wall. The feelings of Maxwell’s warmth lingers around me as if he was still giving me a hug. It’s a good-unusual feeling that puts butterflies in my stomach.
No, I scold myself. You can’t have this feeling. Not with him. Not when he already has a girlfriend.
But the feeling of Maxwell’s arms around me lingers. I can feel where he had traced the circle on my back. It’s as if he had tattooed warmth there on my skin.
Lynne shifts next to me, breaking me from my thought of the warmth on my back. A soft whimper comes from her as she tosses herself to one side, hitting me in the face with her tiny wrist.
“Lynne,” I whisper, pushing her arm out of the way. I flip to the other side, facing Maxwell. I can just make out his curls of brown hair from the back of his head. I can hear his steady breathing in the quietness, and before I know it, it has lulled me to sleep.
Chapter 7
Day Six
“Sara, wake up.”
“Hm?” I stir and pinch my eyes tight. For once since I’ve been here, I didn’t have a nightmare. It was a dream, but since Maxwell has stirred me from deep unconsciousness, I can’t remember what the dream was about. Thanks a lot, Maxwell.
“Big Mouth, wake up.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me lightly. “There’s food this morning.”
“Food?” I sit up, rubbing my eyes from sleep. Once my eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, I look around.
“There’s some bread, raspberries, brown beans, and strawberry jelly.”
“Strawberry jelly?” I look towards the door and see the silver, plastic tray with six small jelly packets like the ones you get from a restaurant. I turn to Lynne, who seems so little, and softly touch her stomach. By the soft, unnatural dip of her stomach, I can tell that she has lost some weight. “Lynne, wake up.”
She turns, stretching her
arms upwards. She makes a little squeaky noise.
“Come on. Wake up.” I scoop my hands underneath her and haul her up off the cot, and down to the food which has been set up on the floor again. “We have to eat.”
Lynne looks around groggily, her eyes squinting in the light.
“Here’s a raspberry,” I say, picking up a plump berry, and hand it towards her. “They’re yummy.”
She places her hands over her mouth and makes a squeak as she turns her face away from my hand.
“Lynne, you have to eat it.” I hold her in my lap, holding the raspberry in one hand while trying to move her fists away from her mouth with my other. “Eat it.”
“I don’t want it,” Lynne grumbles.
“You have to eat it,” I urge, shoving the berry closer to her covered mouth.
“No.” She shakes her head.
“Eat it, Short Stuff,” Maxwell speaks up.
I look over at him, surprised. That is the first time he has tried to help me without me asking.
“Mm-mm.” Lynne shakes her head stubbornly again.
“Lynne.” I finally get her hands away from her mouth and hug her tight, trapping her arms against her. She squirms, trying to escape. “You have to eat it.” Forcing her mouth open, I stuff the berry inside.
I know it’s mean to be forcing her to eat when she doesn’t want to, but I need her to eat. I can’t let her get any skinnier. I don’t know how much she has lost, but I know it isn’t good for a girl her age to lose that much within five-ish/six days. Watching her, I make sure Lynne chews and swallows before handing her another.
“Are you going to eat?” Maxwell asks.
“Yeah, just after I make sure she eats all her food.” I look at my pile and count the food Maxwell made into my pile. I have eight berries, two slices of bread, and a small pile of beans. Grabbing half of my berries, I place them into Lynne’s pile.
“Why did you do that?”
“She needs it more than me,” I say, grabbing another raspberry.
“I don’t want any more,” Lynne complains.
“You’re going to eat all of it.” I turn my attention back towards Lynne.
“No!” Tears squeeze out from the corner of her eyes.
“Please, Lynne.” I hold a raspberry close to her lips, but she presses them tightly together. After a moment of struggling, I give up. “Fine. Go.” I let her go and watch as she hurries back to the cot and lays down.
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