Behind the Falls Page 18

  “I talked through all of this with Tabby and I thought I was confiding in my best friend but what I was really doing, even if inadvertently, was breaking her heart and she lashed out at me for it. I’m just really sorry you got put in the middle of it.”

  “Are we okay though?” I ask quietly. I mean he apologized for last night but I need the reassurance. I’ll just keep worrying about it if I don’t ask. He sighs again.

  “Of course we are if you forgive me for how I reacted,” he pauses briefly, “Do you have feelings for Tabitha or were you just there in the moment? I mean, maybe she wasn’t just using you. Maybe more could come of it…”

  “I’m way too confused by her and pissed off at her to even consider that,” I admit. “Besides, it would just be too weird. I mean, I would always wonder if she would rather be with you, of course she would. I’d always wonder why she was really with me. I think the biggest bonus to being homeschooled is not having to deal with any drama,” I force a laugh.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Max says, “Seven thirty still okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hang up the phone feeling infinitely better about going to school tomorrow. I still don’t know how I’ll feel when I see Tabitha but if Max and I are okay I can deal with it.

  I wake up at four in the morning with a panic attack. As panic attacks go it sucks, they always do, but I’ve had worse. At least this time I’m completely aware of what’s happening and I don’t have myself convinced that I’m really dying this time. It lasts less than five minutes but I’m still awake when my alarm goes off at six forty five.

  Max picks me up at seven thirty in Lydia’s Subaru. I don’t say anything about the fact that he’s picking me up instead of Terry and Tabitha. “Lydia didn’t need the car today,” he says when I get in the passenger side. I wonder if she had needed the car would Max have ridden the bus. I don’t know why the prospect of riding the damned bus still terrifies me.

  When we get to school, Tabitha approaches Max immediately before he even gets to his locker. I continue on to mine. I’m staying way the Hell out of this mess. I can hear her voice rising as she argues with him but he keeps his low and controlled. She stops at my locker and gets as close as she can to my face.

  “Of course no one is angry with you,” she practically spits. “You just come out all innocence and sunshine.”

  “Tabitha, what did I ever do to you? YOU kissed ME. You did this, not me,” I tell her.

  “You ruined everything…”she begins but Max takes her by the arm and guides her away from me. To say I’m not a bit shaken up would be a lie. Sherrie nudges my shoulder with hers.

  “What was THAT all about?” she asks.

  “Honestly? I don’t even know anymore. She tried to make Max jealous or something and it backfired and now he’s angry with her so she’s pissed at me.”

  “I’d steer clear of her if I were you,” Sherrie warns. “You’re nice and sweet and don’t need her drama. You could be friends with just about anyone you want. You could go out with just about anyone you want. You don’t need to be in the middle of that.” I walk to homeroom with Sherrie and she sits on my desk and chats with me, doing her best to distract me until the bell rings. It actually works and by the time homeroom starts I’ve already put Tabitha’s rage behind me.

  The morning goes along smoothly. Tabitha doesn’t meet Max outside of calculus like she normally does so there’s no confrontation there. He walks with me until the turn in the hall that takes me to the stairs and my next class but he’s oddly quiet. Chemistry class is a lecture today instead of a practical lab so we don’t have much opportunity to talk there either. I’m starting to be a little nervous about lunch period where I know for a fact that I will have to see Tabitha. I’m at my locker considering hiding out in the auditorium when someone taps my shoulder. I turn around to see Tabitha there looking miserable.

  “I’m sorry,” she says but she doesn’t really sound apologetic.

  “Are you saying that because you really mean it or because you think it’s what Max wants,” I surprise myself by saying rather than just accepting her apology. She seems to think for a moment but then she gives me a half smile.

  “Honestly? I came over here because it’s what Max wants but I really do mean it. I shouldn’t have used you like that. None of this is actually your fault after all.” I don’t understand what that means really but I decide it’s easier if I just accept her apology.

  “Sit with me today, Noah,” says Sherrie as she comes up next to me and links her arm though mine. I try not to sigh audibly with my relief.

  Tabitha has apologized and I have accepted but I don’t know if things will ever be completely right again. I can’t look at her without thinking of the way she touched me. I can’t remember that night without thinking of the hurt and betrayal on Max’s face. It’s probably safer to keep my distance. I wonder if Kimber is facing similar drama at her school in Naperville or if I’m just making too much out of this because I worry about everything? I’ll have to ask her the next time we talk.

  I go to lunch with Sherrie and we talk in the lunch line while we wait to get our food. She asks if I’ve ever been to this one club in Lancaster that has an all ages section. I’ve never really been anywhere interesting since moving to Pennsylvania other than Hershey Park. Sherrie tells me she’s going with a group this weekend for some big Halloween party they’re having at the club if I’m interested. I give her a noncommittal answer. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

  After we get our lunches and are seated Sherrie mentions going to the club to some of her other friends at her table. I try not to look across the room towards the people I usually sit with, towards Tabitha and Max. When we’re finished eating Sherrie asks me to walk with her to the library so I do.

  “So this thing with Maxwell and Tabitha, what happened? Is it like a love triangle or something?” she asks in a whisper so as not to anger the librarian.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” I mumble.

  “I mean, do you like her or something?” Sherrie looks right in my eyes when she asks this question as if she really wants to know and not because she’s just making idle chit chat and gossiping.

  “No, I mean, I thought we were friends. She kissed me and it was nice but kind of weird. It was really just to make Max jealous I guess. I should have stopped her I guess but I didn’t. I don’t know why.” I find that I actually do want to talk to someone about it and since Sherrie seems a willing ear I might as well talk to her.

  “I can’t figure those two out,” Sherrie admits. “Whatever. I think you could do better, Noah. There are plenty of girls at this school that would go out with you. You don’t have to settle for someone who is just trying to use you to get to someone else.” When she says this she lays a hand lightly on my arm.

  “Uh, I think I just want to get through this year unscathed,” I admit. She drops her hand and shakes her head.

  “What a waste,” she laughs. When the bell rings we walk to computer science together. I finally feel really calm for the first time since Saturday night. Maybe I will take Sherrie up on that invite to Lancaster this weekend. I should probably cultivate some friendships outside of the Max and Tabitha crowd.

  After school I go to Max’s house to hear the tracks he was working on with Elliot on Saturday. I might not take music seriously like Max does but I have ears. I know it’s really good and I can’t believe he does all of the production in this basement room. I don’t know why he’s not in a band.

  “I’ve been in bands before but I always ended up moving eventually so I just gave up on performing. Maybe next year when I’m in college I’ll get one going or maybe I’ll wait until I’m done with school,” he explains when I ask why he’s not in a band now. He explains some of his equipment to me while he’s mixing a track. It’s all a bit beyond my own computer knowledge. Most of his equipment is years of Christmas and birthday presents.

  “I usually have a
summer job but Dad prefers that I concentrate on school during the school year so precious little of this equipment was paid for by me,” he admits.

  It’s not like Max has to work. One look around the Maxwell house is proof that they’re in a higher income bracket than most families in Lansing. Between Mark’s job and whatever he gets from the military and Lydia’s part time real estate sales (the majority of which take place outside of Lansing) it’s not like Max is hurting for cash but I can understand the desire to earn your own money.

  My own parents have never agreed with me taking a job for obvious reasons. Still, I’m going to have to make my own way eventually. How will I ever manage an actual real job? It’s one of the many things that keep me awake at night worrying.

  Tonight the thing that keeps me awake worrying is the situation with Tabitha. I should be able to just let it go. She did apologize after all and I did accept but I still can’t stop worrying over it. I tried to call Kimber when I got home from Max’s to get her opinion but the call went straight to voice mail. Someone has a normal social life at least.

  On Tuesday Terry’s familiar car pulls up in front of my house at seven thirty. Max and Terry both say hi and Tabitha gives a vague wave (which is really all that can be expected of Tabitha before coffee) but the car is strangely quiet on the ride to school. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault even though technically I’m supposed to be the victim in this whole mess.

  The day drags. I draw a blank when Mrs. Kabobcheck asks me a question in calculus. I miss more than a few questions on a pop quiz in history class and Max accuses me of being on another planet in chemistry. I’m just vaguely anxious and slightly sick to the stomach. This is actually closer to what I thought going to public school would feel like. Where is this coming from after more than a month of doing fine? Why can’t I just conquer this anxiety for once and for all? I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m practically an adult. Why am I still such a mess?

  Max asks if I want to come to his house after school to do homework and have dinner but I decline. I’m too on edge to be surrounded by his family. I need some solitude. I need to run. I go straight home and tackle my homework first. I’m disappointed with my academic self today.

  After two hours of homework I’m given the uplifting news that Mom forgot to set the timer on dinner and it’s burned beyond salvation. My day is finally looking up. I decide to take that run while I wait for her to come up with another plan. Dad is suggesting sandwiches from the deli and Mom wants something healthier. I put in my vote for Dad’s plan and hit the pavement.

  It’s already dark and it’s quite cold this evening so I dress in layers. After I stretch and warm up it’s not too bad. The cold air burns my lungs but it’s not long before the rest of me no longer feels the chill. Eventually I’m warm enough that I take off the jacket I started out with and tie it around my waist.

  I’m on my way home and wondering who won the dinner discussion of course hoping it was Dad when I find myself on Max’s street. I don’t know what makes me slow down to a walk. I don’t know what makes me approach his house. It’s so unlike me to do something so unplanned and spontaneous. I ring the bell and Lydia answers.

  “Oh hello, Noah! Come in, come in,” she says as she opens the door wide to allow entry. “Max and Mark are downstairs sparring. Go right on down, just keep your head down.”

  I have no idea what Lydia is talking about as I cautiously make my way down the stairs to Max’s room. I’m only halfway down the stairs when I hear the unmistakable sounds of bodies hitting mats, punches or kicks hitting pads, heavy breathing and the occasional “oof” of someone getting the air knocked out of them.

  When I get far enough to see into the home gym I stop on the stairs and watch. Mark and Max are both in workout clothes and bare feet. Mark has some kind of pads or blockers or whatever they’re called on his hands. As I watch Max does some kind of wild flying, kicking thing that’s such a blur of motion I don’t even know what I just saw. It’s like Crouching Tiger or something and I think he’s going to kick Mark right in the face but Mark is even faster and has Max on his back in one move.

  Mark comes down with his forearm but Max, still on his back, throws up his feet which are crossed at the ankles and stops Mark’s advance. Max twists his feet, straightening them at the ankles while still trapping Mark’s arm and that throws the bigger man off balance and he stumbles away enough for Max to roll back then push himself in one motion from his hands and shoulders to his feet. The entire exchange couldn’t have taken a full minute.

  They circle each other in the middle of the room until Mark sees me out of the corner of his eye and straightens up. “Hey, Noah, are you interested in taking the winner?” he says conversationally. Max is still standing wary, hands up and half crouching. Mark pats him on the shoulder and says, “That’s enough for today,” and only then does Max straighten and relax.

  “You know if you didn’t insist on going so fancy with that kick you’d have had me,” Mark instructs. “A simple side kick would have sufficed.” Max shrugs.

  “The hook kick is more fun,” he grins.

  “Well, just don’t rely on fun if you ever find yourself in the position to need self-defense. You know better,” Mark continues. They bow to each other before Mark grabs a towel and heads upstairs saying goodbye. I have to continue to the bottom of the stairs to let him by.

  “Hey, No, I didn’t expect you,” Max says, slightly out of breath. He also grabs a towel and wipes his face with it.

  “Sorry I didn’t call. I was out for a run, kinda ended up here,” I sort of stammer.

  “It’s fine. You always have an open invitation,” Max grins. “Wanna spar?” He fakes a palm to my face and stops just inches from my nose which makes me flinch even though I didn’t really think he would hit me. He grabs my nose and honks then heads for his room.

  “No thanks, Karate Kid,” I laugh. “I wasn’t really interested in an ass kicking today.”

  “Taekwondo,” Max corrects me. “Dad started teaching me when I was thirteen after the first time I got MY ass kicked,” he tells me. I watch him as he digs around in his drawers for fresh clothes.

  He’s wearing sweats and a tank top and his hair is all pulled away from his face in a short ponytail at the top of the back of his head. I always assumed Max was pretty much built like I am. He’s roughly the same height and he’s pretty thin but I’ve never really seen him without layers or long sleeves. The tank shows that he’s definitely in better shape than I am.

  Where I have straight, thin (and what I consider girly) arms Max has definition. His arms are really thin but the biceps and even the muscles in his forearms are defined. His shoulders are broader than mine and I can see every different muscle group that make up his shoulders because there’s no extra flesh or bulk. When he pulls the damp tank over his head I can see that the rest of him is the same, lean, long muscle with no extra flab, his abs way more defined than mine. I wouldn’t mind drawing him. He’d make a good study of musculature.

  “Stick around until I take a quick shower?” he asks as he heads from his room towards the bathroom that I know is on the other side of the basement from the gym.

  “Uh, yeah I guess,” I say. I don’t have my phone on me and I know Mom and Dad will wonder where I am if I don’t get back soon but it seems pointless to leave after I just got here anyway. I entertain myself by reading Max’s wall.

  I discovered that the white wall with the black writing on it is actually a bunch of quotes. Everything in bold marker is a quote Max has read or heard in a song and likes and anything in thin marker is something Max wrote. He says a lot of his “scribblings” eventually turn into song lyrics. I wonder what he’ll do when he runs out of wall space.

  I’m always proud of myself when I recognize a quote from a book I’ve read or a song I like. Max’s interests are so eclectic that it’s not so unusual to find something. Honestly, some of my favorite passages are those originally written by Max. Not
for the first time I wonder exactly why someone as interestingly intelligent and fascinating as Max even wants to be bothered with someone as dull as me.

  He doesn’t make me wait for too long and comes out of the shower in sleep pants, a tee shirt and with wet hair. He’s toweling it as he walks into the room. When it’s as dry as he cares for it to be he puts down the towel and shakes his head like a wet dog so that I catch a few drops of water. He sits at his desk and reaches for the ever present red licorice.

  “So you were out for a run?” he asks indicating my sweats.

  “Yeah, not as exciting as Taekwondo I guess,” I say as I look at the wall of words again.

  “Maybe I should start,” Max says, “Running that is. Unless it’s something you’d rather do alone. How far do you usually go?”

  “On average? I’d say six miles puts me in my happy place. I can only fit six miles in on the weekends. In the evenings after school it’s more like three or four,” I respond, still reading. Max lets out a long whistle.

  “I think I’ll stick with the Taekwondo. Blocking kicks aimed at my face seems easier.” He spins on his chair chewing licorice in silence for a while as I read his wall. I usually feel uncomfortable with silence and get anxious about the fact that I never know how to fill it but with Max I can just be.

  “I really like this one,” I say of the line I just read on his wall. He doesn’t get up to read it but asks which one I’m talking about. I hate reading out loud, it makes me nervous and I sort of stammer, but they’re Max’s words so he should be able to look past my floundering as I read.

  “‘I want to take the time to learn how you move and the little things you do. I’ll listen to your heart, you’ll listen to mine and we’ll hear each other even if we’re not speaking out loud. I could hold you all day without saying a word. We’ll make each other feel less alone...’ Is that how you felt about Jensen?” I ask after I’ve read it. Max looks down and his bangs fall in his face. He almost seems embarrassed but as far as I can tell, Max doesn’t get embarrassed. He spins his chair around once and when he comes back to face me he looks up and he’s Max again. He shakes his head.