by CJ Adler
“Taylor, stop tapping that pen!”
I wanted Jay to crack, not Daughtry.
Jay turns in his seat to shoot me a cool glare. “Would you quit staring!” he whispers, loud enough to draw attention to us.
Ah, there it is.
“Would you quit ignoring?” I reply back in a cool and collected demeanor. He gives me a deadpanned stare just as Daughtry interrupts, “Taylor?
Lawson? Is there a problem?”
I smile a sickly sweet smile. “Nope, teach,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on Jay all the while, “none at all.”
“Ms. Lawson, that is Mr. Daughtry to you,” he corrects me.
“Gotcha. Whatever floats your boat, teach,” I reply back in an informal manner, brushing him off.
Mr. Daughtry merely sighs—an indication that he's given up.
“Psst!” someone calls from my left-hand side.
I frown at Jay for not cooperating and turn to my left instead to see who it was calling me. A gigantic smile graces my face as I meet the sparkling personality of none other than Max Mills. His brown hair flops messily just above his brown eyes as he greets me with an award-winning smile, “Sup, girl?”
“Max!” I nearly shout at the tops of my lungs, then remember that I should restrict myself from “full on shouting” to just “shouting in general”, considering where I am and all.
“Inside voice,” Max teases in good nature.
Jay glances our way, confused at the exchange happening.
“Where have you been hiding?” I whisper to Max as Mr. Daughtry gets up to retrieve something from the other room. “I haven't seen you in forever. You been avoiding me?” I tease and elbow him in the side playfully.
“You know me, always keeping on the down low, hiding in the shadows and what not,” he lies, a fleck of mischief flickering through his eyes.
“Shut up. You know you'd die without the spotlight on you,” I tease.
A screeching noise echoes around the classroom as Max moves his table and chair closer to me, no shame whatsoever in disturbing the class. His gaze strays. I turn around to see what's bugging him, only to find Jay glaring at the both of us while blatantly eavesdropping on our conversation. In his defense, we are talking quite loud.
“Oh, that's just JT,” I inform Max before doing the introductions. “JT meet
Max, Max meet JT.”
A smile stretches across Max's features seeing as he is one of the most friendly people that you will come across. He leans forward over me in order to reach Jay. He extends his hand in greeting. “Hey, buddy. It's nice to—”
“I don't care. Save it,” Jay mutters, still evidently annoyed at the world.
Max slowly retracts his extended hand. He moves in to whisper to me instead, “What's his problem?”
I shake my head, disappointed in Jay for his open rudeness. “He always has a problem,” I tell Max, hoping to somehow justify it. “He's a grouch.”
I know Jay hates people, and maybe I'm changing up the dynamics by introducing him to more people, but all I want is to show him the power of friendship. You can't survive without friends. People need people.
“Forgive him, Max, it's his time of the month again,” I say loudly, only for
Max to erupt in laughter. “Maybe you can help him with a maxi pad?”
Max stops laughing almost immediately and frowns at me. “Not cool. I don't provide that stuff.”
“Stop being so grouchy, JT,” I scold him, hoping he'll lighten up. I'm already missing his playful side.
“What do you want from me?” he asks angrily as if restraining himself from lashing out.
I flinch back, feeling intimidated. I somewhat see it now. I see why people stay clear of him.
“Friendship,” I answer in all honesty.
“Friends are overrated,” he replies coldly as if convinced of the matter.
“Yeah, and so is your ego,” I retort bitterly.
Jay fixates his gaze on me for a second too long. He sighs to himself and stands up, furious. I watch on in pity as he grabs his stuff and storms out the classroom like Hurricane Katrina.
He doesn't get it. He simply doesn't get what life is all about. His perspective is distorted. He can't see that people are good enough, that people are generally good at heart. He's lost that faith in people, faith that can possibly change the world.
“Jeez.” I whistle below my breath. “Who the hell crapped in his cornflakes this morning?”
“Nice guy.” Max chuckles, unoffended. “Mhm.” I nod. “Just absolutely lovely.” He just needs to be given a chance.
“Where did you snag him up? Anger management classes?” Max jokes, cheering me up instantly.
“Might as well have, but we're not together, apparently not even friends.”
He nods, placing both elbows on my desk before leaning toward me with a devious grin. “So, what are you in for?” He motions around the detention room.
I play along. “I killed a girl, well, I should have,” I confess and show him my fist. He makes an attempt to touch my hand, but I snatch my hand away before he can. “Stay back or I punch you too!” I threaten him.
He laughs before one-upping me in his next comment. “First you need to decide with which hand you're going to punch me with.”
“I'll give you that one,” I admit defeat, clapping for him.
He winks, satisfied. “And here I thought I was cool because I stole chocolates out of lunch lady Petunia's secret stash of candy.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I'm pretty bad now. On a whole other level. I think it's Jay's influence,” I confess. “Since we've been hanging out, I've ended up in jail and now detention—places that I usually avoid.”
“Yeah right.” Max scoffs, sending me a deadpanned stare in turn.
“Okay, so it's not my first time in detention.” I stick my tongue out at him, aware that he knows me better.
“My first time in detention was where I first really got to know you,” he reminds me. “You showed me the ropes, taught me everything I know.”
“Yup.” I nod fondly at the memory. “I remember that day. You were terrified of me,” I lie, waiting to see how he'll handle it. “You're still terrified of me.”
“Oh, yeah, totally.” He goes with it, as expected. “You're so badass now. So scary. In fact,” he holds up his hands, “I'm trembling.”
He's just shaking his hand ever so slightly.
“I know.” I nod and sigh overdramatically as if it's a burden. “I know.” He laughs at me. “At least you got humor down, I'll give that one to you.”
“You will damn well give me a lot more than that if you ever want to see the light of day again!” I snap at him jokingly, enjoying his company.
Max holds up his hands defensively. “Slow down, dweeb. I mean no harm.” “Yeah.” I grin cunningly. “But who said that I don't?”
Max chuckles and leans back in his chair as if to avoid getting punched in
the face. “But for real, who'd you beat the living shiznit out of ?”
I think back to this morning:
“Midget, how's the head? I know that you knocked it pretty hard that night, not that it would make a difference. You need brains to injure brains,” Melinda randomly insults me as she passes by my locker.
I'd usually let it go, but today I'm feeling feisty.
“Don't make me test that theory on you,” I warn, at least having my say, as I show her my fist.
“I would not like to be on the receiving end of Lawson's fist.” Laiken, Mason's best friend, snickers along with the rest of his jock buddies. “She punches like a man.”
Yeah, he would know.
I ignore them and make an attempt to walk away, but Melinda is still blabbering on and so pulls me by my hair to stop me, offended that I'm not listening to a word she's saying. My head is yanked backward.
Never. Touch. The. Hair.
I jump straight into a warrior stance and land a powerful upper-cut on her chin.
What is the point of first slapping her around when we both know that we will resort to punching eventually? I just decided to jump ahead of time.
“Don't. Ever. Touch. The. Hair,” I say through gritted teeth as she grabs onto her jaw in pain and whines like a baby.
I roll my eyes when Laiken goes to comfort her. He's practically her boy-toy without him even realizing.
She pushes Laiken back and steps forth to take a shot at me, but Mason quickly steps in and holds her back while Bells encourages me to quit while I'm ahead.
“She was asking for it.”
“I ended up getting a one-on-one bonding session with Principal P as I explained my side of the story to him. He listened attentively and decided to let me off with only a warning, so long as I apologized to the she-witch.”
“Everything is starting to make sense now.” Max nods, aware of where I'm going with this.
“Of course, when I made gagging noises at just the thought, I ended up being put straight into detention for the next week,” I conclude with a shake of my head.
“Of course.” Max shakes his head, still humoring me. “You could've had it worse. You could've been suspended. You're lucky Principal P favors you above the rest. I think all your trips to his office and all your heart-to-heart talks are taking a toll on the unfortunate lad.”
I ignore him and continue to rant. “Turns out, Melinda gets off scot-free because she only pulled my hair when I practically broke her jaw. It's not my fault that she has a glass jaw. She's weak. My Grams taught me how to box at a young age.”
I'd still rather be here than apologizing to Melinda.
I glance back to Max, pulling myself from my inner thoughts. “I don't care what she was saying. What got to me was when she ripped my hair.”
Max laughs and nods in agreement. “They always go for the hair.”
“Uh-huh.” I shake my head. “Tell me about it.”
“Everyone knows that the hair is the prized possession. It's just a big 'no- no' to touch the hair. I'm with you, sister. Up top!” Max raises his tone in a mock girl voice as he holds his hand up for a high-five.
I just look at him, leaving him hanging until he drops his hand with a pout.
“You're still so mean,” he complains. I shrug. “So I've been told.”
Max simply grins in response as Daughtry enters the classroom again. Mr. Daughtry immediately notices the absence of Jay. He raises a questioning eyebrow at me, aware that I hold the answers to everything.
On any normal occasion, I would 'rat' Jay out faster than I can fry a pancake, but because he seemed extra grumpy today, I decide to cover for him instead.
“He has an orthodontist appointment. Poor guy is getting braces,” I lie, blurting out the first excuse I can think of. “He excused himself as politely as a…ballerina. Go easy on him. It's a tough life he leads.”
Daughtry nods and finally dismisses us, taking the bait.
I grab my backpack, relieved that it's over, and exit the room.
Max catches up with me as I stroll toward the parking lot area where Bells is waiting, and impatiently I might add, to try and offer me a lift home as per the usual. I once let her. I had her drop me off at an average looking house not far from my real house. My plan failed when I suddenly had a dog. When Bells asked to see the little guy, the fluffball bit me because it didn't know who I was. She quickly figured it all out, yet still, she persists where she can.
“He is going to be so mad. Braces? Ballerina? That was the best you could come up with? So original,” Max retorts as he walks in step with me, hands in his pockets. “You're screwing up his rep. There goes his street cred.”
Max and I aren't exactly friends. He's more of an acquaintance. I barely ever see him. In fact, the only time I do see him is in detention or on a sports day where he runs for our school.
He is odd to describe because he literally cannot be classified under any cliques. He surpasses my understanding of how schools are supposed to work. Everyone has a classification to fall under. For instance, I'm the weird one.
Max: he doesn't fit any descriptions, not efficiently. He's the funny guy, the athlete, the rebellious dude always found in detention, the immature one who steals candy, as well as the bright spark, all in one. Everything that is the very essence of Max is nothing but a contradiction. He contradicts his very own existence.
He's this huge combination of so many good and bad characteristics that there is literally nowhere to put him under. The only label I can come up with for
Max is the 'one who cannot be labeled': a very rare group, currently sporting only one member, and he just so happens to be standing right in front of me.
“I panicked,” I defend myself.
“Oh, like you did with Melinda when your fist met her face?” he teases,
unable to resist.
I glare at him, in turn.
He obviously feels bad because he wraps an arm around my shoulder. “I'm just messing with you. I've missed your spunky attitude. Detention hasn't been the same without your cockiness and superior-like personality,” he confesses, sounding slightly sincere, but this is Max and being sincere can change to teasing in an instant.
“Glad you know your place. I am superior.” I play along, which results in his common smile—one that is impossible to get tired of.
“As much fun as it is to see you again, I really got to move. Places to be, connections to see, and bathrooms to pee,” he says before waving goodbye.
“TMI!” I yell at his retreating figure.
***
“The usual,” I say to Simo upon entering the ice cream shop.
Simo, the same grin intact, hands me the blue ice cream all too happily.
“Sprinkle!” he greets, one of the few people always overjoyed to see me.
I roll my eyes at him, feigning irritation. As infuriating, annoying, and insufferable as Simo is, he tends to grow on you.
“Thanks, Sims.” I grin as I dig into my bubblegum ice cream like it's the most important thing to do on this planet, might as well be.
“Anything for number one customer, Sprinkle.” He laughs and points to a picture behind him.
I follow his gaze, only to notice the wall of fame behind him that he and all his glory are covering—no wonder I missed it.
I scan the pictures of the number one customers in the past month and suffice to say, I have made it to first place. I grin and clap my hands, showing Bells, proud of my achievement . However, it doesn't last long. Another worker, one that I don 't really know , goes and removes my picture without so much as an explanation.
“Hey! Hey! What are you doing?” I complain. “That's my face you're touching.”
Bells and Simo give me a look, and so does the other worker, trying to make sense of my words.
“Okay, so not my literal face, but that's me,” I tell the worker determinedly.
The worker ignores me and continues to follow through with her instructions that were no doubt given by sexy, hot manager dude.
“Wait! Look! See!” I stand beside the picture of me and pull off the very same expression that I'm wearing in the picture—a huge smile showing all my pearly whites. “See? Mirror image,” I try to convince her to stop.
The worker nods, seemingly not giving a damn. “Yeah, well, I was given orders by the manager to replace it,” she tells me as she moves my picture down to second place and moves the next person up to first place.
My eyes widen at the sight.
“He's officially topped you,” she explains when seeing my confusion.
“Blubber!” I blurt out. “Blubber beat me?! He doesn't even appreciate bubblegum ice cream the way I do. He doesn't even savor the flavor because he gobbles it down too quickly,” I whine, unhappy with the outcome.
Out of all the people I can lose to.
“That's the problem. He orders every flavor, you always stick to bubblegum, hence your loss. The manager wants what the manager wants. Don't shoo
t the messenger,” she replies and attempts to walk away, but I lace my arm around her wrist, swiftly stopping her.
Screw this!
I lean in forward with a menacing growl. “Unfortunately for you, I do believe in shooting the messenger.”
She stares at me distraught, her mouth hanging wide open as a result of my threat. “How dare you? Are you disturbed?”
I'm about to react when Mason (he's been here the whole time, minding his own business) grabs me around my waist and pulls me away in the nick of time.
“Down, Leech! Down!” he orders as if I'm some kind of dog.
I struggle against him. All the while, Bell laughs. I glower at her but to no avail.
The worker, feeling threatened, calls in the manager.
“What the hell is going on here?” Hot, sexy manager dude asks as I try to get to the worker who replaced my picture with Blubber's.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear!
“Hell! That is one sexy picture of me. Don't you think, babe? Too bad you moved down a place.” Blubber appears from nowhere as he enters the chaotic scene. He reaches up to pat my cheek. Mason locks my arms behind my back to prevent me from attacking him. “Next time, love,” he mocks, aware that I'm currently helpless.
I let out a roar of anger as I try to leap forward but Mason, being a football player, easily overpowers me. “Dammit, Mason! Let go of me!” I hiss, trying to break free so that I can kill the worker for listening to the manager, to kill the manager for giving the order, to kill Blubber...just because it's Blubber, and to kill Bells and Simo for laughing at me.
There's a ringing at the front desk, but no one pays heed to it because we're all preoccupied.
“Wow. Colorful place. Literally,” a familiar voice snaps me out of my rage as I stare up at Max, puzzled by his sudden presence. He gives me a little wave with raised eyebrows as he takes in the scene before him. “Is this a bad time or should I...” He trails off, distracted by something. “Oooh, lookie, bubblegum ice cream! My favorite!” he exclaims in glee.
That's when I hit my breaking point. I let out a shout. Mason is still holding me tightly.
It's too late!
Max's hand has already reached for my bubblegum ice cream. Before I know it, Max has brought my ice cream to his mouth, unaware of the torture he is putting me through.