Carolyn: That's cruel.......Max finally makes an appearance and all he says is "miss me"? Now you hurry back and explain all of this.
Max plays a huge part in this chapter, so you'll get some explanations!
Poor Isabel......she will now learn the consequences of her actions. It was really sad when she was deleting phone numbers from her phone.
Yeah, I thought that scene would really demonstrate how alone she is right now.
fadedblue: ...and there is the April I know and love. Oh man, I'm almost excited for how the crap is going to hit the fan.
Awesome. I specialize in crap-hitting-the-fan parts.
And now that Isabel is starting to become as messed up as we know max is, I can only imagine the damage the Evans siblings will do together!
I do have a thing for writing the Evans siblings in a pretty messed up way.
Sara: Michael....so impulsive. Probably not the best time to be buying a ring.....act now, think later....yikes.
He's definitely impulsive. Although the thought of asking Maria to marry him has crossed his mind before.
Max....yikes. Seems like he will probably stir up trouble....this isn't good. Not good at all.
Max's return is going to have a huge impact on these people, for sure.
Eva: And then it starts! Ok, Max is in town. His arrival will provoke a lot of things and I'm hloding my heart at the moment.
His arrival is definitely going to change some things.
Isabel, Isabel, what had you been thinking? That everything would stay the same? That you could play your double life of the best student ever and the one who craves for sex in order to forget everything?
You know, I think she probably did delude herself into thinking she could pull off this whole double life thing until the end of high school. But her mistakes have definitely caught up to her now, and her reputation has irrevocably changed.
Thank you for the feedback! I was so eager to get to that part, because everyone pretty much suspected Max would make an appearance at some point. It was a long time coming (946 pages! 
) but here he is.
This part is longer than normal today--I just couldn't seem to find the right place to end it. I'm including a link to "Face Down in the Right Town" by Earlimart when you see 
if you'd like to listen. It's a very cool but not very well-known song.
Part 68
Max’s timing could not have been any more perfect. It was amazing how just having him there was enough to change their mother’s entire outlook. Instead of being upset and angry, she was happy, literally
elated to see the son she hadn’t seen in years, the child whom she’d only communicated with through Christmas cards for the majority of his life.
Isabel was glad to see him, too. They weren’t close; in fact, she barely remembered him. But he was her brother, and with him in town, the possibilities were just endless.
She sat at the kitchen counter well into the evening, mostly just listening as her mom and her brother got caught up. Even though Max insisted he wasn’t hungry, Diane fixed up some spaghetti and put a huge heaping plate down in front of him, and he ate up while they all talked.
“Oh, I can barely believe this!” their mother raved. “What a great surprise! Both of my kids, together again. It feels like a miracle.”
“Well, I’m glad you don’t mind me just stopping by,” he said as he twisted the noodles around his fork.
“Oh, of course not. You’re welcome here anytime. This used to be your home, you know?”
“I remember.”
“Do you?”
“Well . . . barely,” he acknowledged. “But I remember this kitchen, those monster stairs, my bedroom.”
“It’s a guest room now,” she informed him, “which I hope you’ll stay in tonight.”
“Of course,” he accepted. “Thank you.”
There was a look of astonishment in Diane’s eyes as she watched him, like she just couldn’t comprehend that he was really there, and every once in a while, she just went up to him and hugged him. “I’m so happy,” she said. “It’s been so long.”
“It has,” he agreed.
“Oh, I hope you don’t . . . resent me for not being a part of your life. It’s just, when your dad and I divorced, we thought it was the simplest solution for you to go with him and Isabel to stay with me.”
“It was a good solution,” he assured her. “Worked out well. My life’s been great. Never boring. And it just keeps getting better.”
“Mine, too,” Isabel piped up.
Her mom shot her a look, as if warning her to not say anything about the state of her life right now.
“Dad’s been good, too,” Max continued on. “He got remarried last year.”
“Oh.”
Isabel had to stifle her giggles at the way her mom’s mood quickly took a dramatic shift. In that one word, there was so much lingering resentment and jealousy. And who could blame her? She wasn’t even close to getting remarried, maybe never would. The best she’d had since her divorce had been an affair with the town’s number one playboy.
“He’s busy with work, though,” Max added, as if to make her feel a little better. “It really stresses him out a lot.”
“Oh, I would imagine.”
“He’s still living in Albuquerque, but he’s thinking about moving to Orlando.”
“Well, that would be . . . good for him.” Their mother smiled tersely. “Enough about him, though. I wanna know about what my son’s been up to.”
Oh, if only you knew, Isabel thought, picturing Dylan. She wasn’t going to say anything, though, at least not until she got the chance to ask Max about it.
“Well, I’ve been busy, too,” he said. “With school, mostly.”
“Where are you going to college?” she asked eagerly.
“I just finished up my sophomore year at New Mexico State down in Carlsbad.”
“Oh, you might know my friend Alex!” Isabel exclaimed.
“Alex?” her mom echoed. “Who’s . . . who’s Alex?”
“My friend, Mom. He goes there.”
“He?” Her eyebrows shot up in concern.
“It’s a boy’s name, Mom.”
“Well, it can be a girl’s name, too, sometimes.”
“Relax. He’s a nice guy. Although . . .” She turned her attention back to Max and admitted, “I guess he’s not my friend anymore.” It felt wrong to say that.
“Uh . . . well . . . it’s a big campus,” Max said. “I mean, not really
that big, but big enough where you don’t know everyone else. It’s not like high school.”
“Huh, must be nice.”
“It is,” he agreed. “I like it there. I’m studying law.”
“Oh.” Their mother forced a smile and scratched the back of her neck . “Just like your father.”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” he transitioned. “See, Dad’s a little upset with me right now. He really wants me to gear myself towards a joint-degree program for business and environmental law, but I’m more into first amendment law.”
“First amendment,” Diane said. “So that’s freedom of speech and religion and . . .”
“Press, assembly,” he added. “Yeah. I like how far-reaching it is. There’s a lot of different cases you can cover, and I’m pretty passionate about it.”
“But your father’s not. Hmm.” Their mother sounded semi-pleased that her ex was being a jerk. “Well, I think it’s just great. Whatever you feel strongly about, that’s what you should do.”
“I totally agree,” Isabel said, wondering why she couldn’t adopt that same philosophy when it came to her and Jesse.
“Well, thanks,” Max said. “It’s nice to have some support. See Dad and I . . . we’ve been butting heads about this for years now. It’s gotten to the point where . . . well, I just needed to get away for a while. So I thought I’d come here, spend some time with you two, reconnect with the other members of my family.”
“Oh, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” their mother offered.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Isabel agreed. “I mean, Roswell’s not very fun, but I’m sure you’ll find it . . . interesting.” Perfect. This was so unbelievably perfect. When she told him who else was in town, he was going to be shocked.
“I’m sure I will,” he agreed confidently. “It’s gonna be so great to catch up with you guys. I’ve really missed you.”
“Oh, I’ve missed you, too, honey,” his mom said, hugging him again. “I’m so glad things are going well, though.”
“They’re going great,” he reiterated. “How about you, Isabel?”
“Oh . . .” If only he’d asked her that a few months ago. She would have had all sorts of appropriate accomplishments to tell him about. “It’s going.”
“She’ll be attending Princeton in the fall,” their mom boasted.
“Really?” He stared at her in surprise. “Well, that’s . . . that’s amazing. My little sister in the Ivy League. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“I was never that smart,” he admitted.
“Oh, please,” their mom scoffed. “You’re gonna be a lawyer. Of course you’re smart.”
“Well, I do alright,” he said modestly. “I’m no Princeton, though. That’s really impressive, Isabel.”
“Thank you.” It was nice to know that at least someone was still impressed with her.
“You’ve really changed since the last time I saw you. God, how old were we when they divorced?”
“I was four,” she said, “so you must’ve been . . . six-ish?”
“That’s right. Man, last I saw you, you were this little girl with pigtails who liked to make movies about her Barbies.”
“Well . . . I still make movies.”
Their mother cleared her throat loudly, giving her another warning look. Sort of a don’t-mess-this-up-for-me-look. She was trying to impress her son.
“You know what? I’d love to see my old room,” Max blurted.
“Oh, I can show you,” Isabel offered. “Mom, do you mind if I just hang out with my brother for a while? Just the two of us?”
“Oh, well . . . sure, I suppose that’d be fine. It’s not a school night.
Oh . . .” She made a face. “But I still have to work tomorrow. All-day open house. I’m so sorry, Max, I’d cancel and spend the whole day with you if I could.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s okay,” he assured her. “We’ll all go out for dinner tomorrow night. During the day, I’ll just hang out with Isabel. It’ll be fun.”
“Yeah,” Isabel agreed. “We’ve got so much to catch up on.”
“So much,” he emphasized. “I’m sorry I got here so late. I wasn’t even thinking about you having to work tomorrow. I’m sorry I kept you up, Mom.”
“Oh, Max . . .” She cupped his face and kissed his cheek. “It’s more than fine. You don’t know how thrilled I am to see you.” She smiled at him with tears in her eyes.
“You should get some rest,” Isabel told her. Once she was sleeping, she and Max could get into the much
bigger events in their lives, the stuff that
really mattered.
“Oh, I don’t even know how I’m gonna get to sleep tonight.” Squealing like an excited school girl, Diane hugged her son
yet again and said, “If you need anything during the night, just let me know.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Okay. I’m so glad you’re here.” One more hug, and this time she finally left the kitchen and headed upstairs to her room.
“Want any of this?” Max asked, sliding the still half-full plate of spaghetti across the counter. “I’m just not hungry.”
“I’m good,” she said. “Just leave it. I’ll snack on it later.” She popped off the stool and asked, “Old bedroom?”
He nodded. “Old bedroom.”
When they first walked into the guest room, the light didn’t even turn on. Isabel flipped the switch back and forth a few times, and finally, the overhead fan light flickered on.
“Wow,” Max said. “This is . . . different.”
“Yeah.” It was all very floral now. Her mom loved floral bedspreads, floral wallpapers, floral curtains. “What was it like before?”
“Well, the double-bed was a twin bed,” he started, “and there were posters of Michael Jordan and Scottie Pippen everywhere. I loved basketball. I had a little hoop set up in the corner over there.”
“I barely remember.” She could picture it, in a fuzzy, blurry way. But not in detail.
“Does it still have its own bathroom?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He made a celebratory fist and pumped it close to his chest. “
Yes.”
“It’s a nice room,” she said. “Kinda girly, though. Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I just showed up unannounced. I’ll take what I can get.” He walked into the room, probably soaking it all in, the familiarity and
unfamiliarity of it, and sat down on the bed, testing it for comfort. “Hmm,” he said, nodding his head in approval.
She shut the door, not sure how she was supposed to transition from casual, lighthearted conversation to something more serious. “So . . .” she said leadingly. “Max. Sounds like you’ve got everything going for yourself. College, law school in your future. You’re gonna be pretty successful.”
“This coming from you,” he said. “Princeton-bound. That’s unreal.”
“Well . . .” She shrugged and sat down next to him. “I’ve been fortunate. Good teachers, good classes . . .”
“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “They didn’t give you this; you got it on your own. You know it.”
She smiled, loving that he was giving her all the credit. “Well . . . I guess. I was gonna be the valedictorian, too, but I’m not anymore ‘cause of . . .” She trailed off, deciding to keep her little video to herself. Even though they were siblings, and even though interacting with him felt completely natural in a way she hadn’t anticipated, she didn’t need to tell him about that. He’d find out soon enough, from Ryan or some other idiot in town. Whatever.
“ ‘cause of what?” he asked.
“Just . . . this stupid technicality. And I was a cheerleader, too, but that’s over now. Now I’m just . . .” She laughed a little. “Bored.”
“God, me, too,” he said. “I like Carlsbad, but I had to get outta there. I took summer classes last year; it almost ended me.”
“Is college good, though?” she asked. “Like better than high school?”
“Oh, so much better,” he replied. “You get out there and realize there’s so much more to the world. It makes high school seem so . . . small, you know?”
“Yeah.” It really was small, wasn’t it? Just a small part of her life. It wouldn’t even matter in five more years.
“Everything you did, everything that happened, it’s like it’s just . . .” He motioned back over his shoulders. “In the past.”
“Hmm.” She couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about his own past, or if he ever did. “That’s good, ‘cause high school . . . god, it kinda sucked.”
“But . . . good student, cheerleader . . .”
“Cheating ex-boyfriend.”
“Ah, there it is.”
“Yeah.” That was actually the nice way to refer to Michael Guerin. “It’s, uh . . . it’s kind of an interesting story, actually.”
“Well, we’re catchin’ up.” He scooted up on the bed to lean back against the headboard, looking completely at ease, like that was a room he’d never left. “Fill me in.”
“Oh, where to start?” she mused.
“Beginning’s usually a good place.”
She shrugged. “Not much to say about the beginning. We were juniors. I promised I’d never let myself go out with someone like him, but lo and behold, I did. And I actually fell for him. Hard.”
“This loser got a name?”
“Michael.”
“Michael Jordan?” he joked.
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
“Sorry, I told you, I love basketball.”
“No, Michael Guerin. He’s kind of the town . . .” She trailed off, searching for the right word to describe him.
“Idiot?” Max filled in. “Low-life? Pimp?”
“All of the above, actually.”
“So why’d you waste time on him?”
“Well, because . . . he was cute.” She cringed, feeling like an idiot. “I mean, not just ‘cause of that, but . . . sometimes we really got along, and I always thought he had the potential to be this, like, amazing guy if I could just
change him.”
“Oh.” Max grimaced, shaking his head. “Nope, see, that’s where you went wrong. Can’t change a guy.”
“He
has changed, though,” she insisted. “He’s different now, in a good way.”
“Because of you?”
She looked down at the bedspread, pinching it in between her fingers. “No, not because of me.”
“Because of . . . someone else?”
Someone you know pretty well, she thought, staring at him.
Intimately. “Yeah, someone else.”
“Huh. That sucks.”
“Oh, yeah. The first girl he cheated on me with . . . totally just some random conquest. I could handle that. That’s why, even after I caught him with her last year, I got back together with him this year. Like an
idiot. I thought it wouldn’t happen again.”
“Oh, he cheated twice?” Max huffed. “What is he, a retard or something? You’re an Evans. That makes you naturally a step above everyone else. He should’ve been grateful to have you.”
“No, this second girl . . . he didn’t just cheat with her. He fell in love with her.”
“That’s . . .” He winced. “. . . gotta sting.”
“Oh, believe me . . .” She shook her head, feeling furious just thinking about it. She was starting to suspect that Michael and Maria’s relationship was something she would never get over, something she would never be able to move past. No matter how hard she tried, it would always be there, in the back of her mind.
“Is she pretty?” he asked.
“You’d probably think so.”
“Still . . . doesn’t make sense, though. Evanses are genetically blessed. We’re bred to look better than the average human being.”
She laughed at the simultaneous absurdity and truth to that. As arrogant as it seemed to admit it, there was no other girl in that town who looked like her, who had the same type of body, the same face. And Max was the type of guy
any girl at school would fall all over. As much as their parents hadn’t gotten along in their marriage, their genes had certainly gotten along well.
“Well . . . forget about him, Isabel,” he suggested. “Sounds like you’re better off without him. Onto bigger and better things.”
“Yeah.” That was true. It was all true, and she
knew that. But she still wasn’t satisfied. “Actually, you, uh . . . you haven’t even heard the best part of the story, though.”
“There’s more?” He sat up straighter, exaggerating his intrigue.
“Oh, there’s more. And it just gets better and better. See, this second girl that he cheated with, the one he fell in love with . . . her name’s Maria.”
“Huh.” He didn’t even flinch, just shrugged and declared, “Alright name.”
“Yeah, but she’s just a waitress at this local café. High school dropout, going nowhere in life.”
“Dropout, huh?” He leaned forward, looking genuinely intrigued now. “Don’t know what he sees in her.”
“I know, right? And you know what else I don’t get? He’s totally and completely ready to settle down with her, even though—get this—she’s already got one kid with someone else.”
Max’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Really?”
“Yeah. A little boy. Three years old.” She had to contain her laughter at how uncomfortable he was starting to look. “Name’s Dylan.”
Everything about Max instantly tensed, and the cool brother vibe was instantly gone. He looked so nervous, like a guy on the baby-daddy Jerry Springer episodes or something.
“Small world, isn’t it, Max?” she teased.
“What do you . . .” He cracked a smile, still trying to play it off as nothing. “What do you mean? I don’t--”
“I
know, Max,” she informed him. “I know about your past.”
He sprang up off the bed and started pacing around the room. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds as he took it all in, then spun to face her and asked, “How do you . . . know?”
“We put the pieces of the puzzle together,” she explained. “Maria found out I had a brother named Max, and that got her spider sense tingling. So I know. I know all about the two of you, and I’ve even met Dylan.”
“Dylan--” Poor Max. He looked flabbergasted, like he could barely formulate a sentence. “Dylan’s here?”
“Yeah.”
“And Maria . . . she’s here in Roswell, too?”
“In my ex-boyfriend’s bed, probably.”
“Holy . . .” Max squatted, raking his hands through his hair, then quickly stood back up again. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, they’re here. They’ve literally both even been in this house before.”
“What the fuck?”
“Oh, don’t worry, she’s over you,” Isabel assured him. “It’s all about Michael and Maria now.”
“Michael and Maria,” he echoed. “Maria and . . . Michael? That sounds . . .”
“Disgustingly perfect, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “God, you should see the two of them together. And when Dylan’s there, it’s even worse. It’s like they think they’re some picture-perfect family.”
“What?” Max sounded . . . stunned.
“Oh, yeah. They all live together. Michael’s my age, but he’s totally getting wifed up.”
“They’re married?” Max shrieked.
“No, but they’re heading in that direction. And Dylan’s so confused, half the time he thinks Michael’s his dad.”
“
What?” Now Max sounded offended.
“And they’re moving to Alabama together, because they think it’s, like, this workable thing for him to go to college there, but I think they’re in for a rude awakening.”
Looking like he’d just been hit by a ten-ton truck, Max staggered back over to the bed and sat down again. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “Out of all the places she could be, she’s gotta be in the exact same town I am.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” she asked.
“Years ago. Same with Dylan. I don’t even . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know what she told you, but . . .”
“She made it sound like you’re this really bad guy, that you’re all into drugs and partying and . . . you know, like you’re a deadbeat dad or something.”
“Well . . .” He sighed in admittance. “Okay, it’s not entirely untrue. I’ve never been there for either one of ‘em. And I did some crazy shit back in the day, back in high school. Maria was one of them. And when she got pregnant . . . I didn’t know what to think, what to do. So I told her to just have an abortion. Problem solved. But she wouldn’t do it. So then I’m stuck with this kid I never wanted . . . and I’m sure he’s a good kid and everything, but . . . I was a kid myself, you know? I was scared; I was confused. I wasn’t
just the bad guy.”
“No, I get that,” she said. “I’ve felt . . . really confused lately. About a lot of things.”
“I didn’t even know how to react,” he went on. “I’m sure she’s dragging my name through the mud, though. We didn’t end things on a pretty note.”
“Actually, she doesn’t really talk about you a whole lot,” Isabel informed him.
“Oh.” He frowned. “Really?”
“No, she’s in Michael-land. I’m telling you, Max, it’s
all about him. She probably loves him more than she loves Dylan at this point.”
“How is Dylan?” he asked. “I mean, is he . . . is he good?”
She glimpsed it then, a hidden sensitivity, a moment where it was clear that, maybe, on some level, he really did care. Maybe he wasn’t just that scared, confused kid anymore. “Yeah, he’s good,” she said. “He’s really cute.”
“Well, of course. It’s the Evans DNA, remember?”
She laughed a little. “Yeah. Don’t worry, though, Mom’s in the dark.”
“Oh, thank God.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “Who
does know?”
“Me. And Michael. And my ex-best friend Tess and her boyfriend Kyle. But they’re not gonna tell anyone. They’re on a cloud nine of their own.”
“Interesting,” he said, looking less freaked out and more contemplative now. “So . . . let me make sure I’ve got this straight: Your ex-boyfriend is banging
my ex-girlfriend and raising my kid with her?”
She nodded. “Pretty much.”
Max’s brow furrowed in disdain. “It
is a small world, Isabel,” he agreed.
“Told you so.” The secrets were out. Now, the question was, what were they to do with this brand new situation they found themselves in? There were so many options . . . “Hey,” she said, feeling more than a little mischievous. “Wanna have some fun?”
He just stared at her for a moment. Then, slowly, a clever smile found its way to his face. It didn’t matter if they had been apart for fourteen years. This guy was her brother. They were one and the same. And given just how small their world currently was, there were just too many opportunities for chaos for either of them to pass up.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Dude, I’m pumped!” Kyle exclaimed, practically bouncing out of the school after a particularly early Saturday morning workout.
“Good for you,” Michael mumbled, feeling like a zombie. Kyle was a crazy person, getting up at 6:00 a.m. to work out for three hours straight in the school weight room. Why the hell had he agreed to tag along for the torture?
“I mean, I’m just . . . I feel alive, you know, and ready,” Kyle kept on raving.
“Ready for what?”
“Just the day, you know, for whatever it has in store for me. That’s what a good workout does to me.”
Barely able to make the trek through the parking lot, Michael shook his head. “You like sports way too much.”
“Oh, whatever, man. You like sports, too.”
“Not like you do, though. You take it to another level.”
“Well, it’s my dad’s influence,” Kyle concluded.
“Yeah.” Wasn’t technically the worst influence ever. It beat having a dad who influenced you to try a vast array of alcoholic beverages before you graduated high school.
“I’m gonna work out six days a week this summer,” Kyle proclaimed. “I got it all figured out.”
“Of course you do.”
“I’m gonna head out to Bama and move into the summer dorms in June, take this five-week Spanish class I don’t wanna mess with during the regular semester, work out with the quarterback coach and the other guys in line for the job . . .”
“Which is yours,” Michael interrupted. “Come on, man. You saw how they played in the spring game. You’re better.”
“But they’ve got more experience,” he pointed out.
“So? You’ve got raw, natural talent. They’re gonna go with talent over experience any day.”
“Well . . .” Kyle shrugged modestly. “We’ll see. Anyway, that’s the plan. Workin’ hardcore at it from here on out.”
Michael gave him a look. Had Kyle ever
not worked hardcore when it came to football?
“When are you and Maria comin’ down?” his friend asked.
“I don’t know. We found a place, though.”
“Yeah? You should move when I do. Bromance for life.”
Michael chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll probably go . . . end of June, early July.”
“You can work out with me then.”
“Oh, fuck,” he swore, stopping in the middle of the parking lot. “Six days a week? I don’t think so. I’m dead just from today.”
“You did alright, though,” Kyle said. “Although I thought you usually bench about twenty pounds more.”
“I usually do, but man, my sex life . . .”
“Does everything go back to that for you?”
“Yeah. Maria and I tried the standing sixty-nine last night.”
“Ooh.” Kyle grimaced, as if recalling a painful memory of his own.
“Yeah, I still can’t feel my arms. So I was just takin’ it easy today.”
“Hmm.” Kyle poked a finger into Michael’s chest. “See, this is why sex . . . it’s a distraction, man.”
“Then I’m happily distracted.”
“No, but you know, you should really—you should put it away, at least until you make the team.”
“Oh, yeah? You put yours away?” Michael challenged.
“No, but I already made the team. But even so, I told Tess, I said, ‘Listen, we gotta—I gotta
focus, you know? I gotta focus on other stuff.’ So we’re tryin’ not to, you know . . . do it so much.”
“Uh-huh.” Michael surveyed his friend skeptically. “And how’s that goin’ for you?”
Kyle made a face and sputtered, “It’s . . . shut up. Whatever, man. Fuck you, at least I’m trying!”
Michael laughed. “Alright, you keep on trying to resist. I’m gonna have as much sex as I want.”
“Of course you are,” Kyle muttered, giving him a friendly shove as he walked towards his truck.
“I can’t help it, man,” Michael called after him over-dramatically. “Sex is my life! It’s who I am!”
Kyle gave him a backwards wave and got into his truck.
Michael got to his car as Kyle drove out of the parking lot, and unfortunately he found that his muscles were even
more sore now as he tried to open the door. From what he had noticed since he’d purchased it, it tended to get jammed on the driver’s side sometimes, but usually, if he just pulled hard enough, he could get it open. Not this time. “Jesus Christ,” he swore. This was embarrassing. Luckily there was no one else around to . . .
“Hey, wait a minute!”
He turned around, standing in front of the jammed door. Some muscular, dark-haired guy he didn’t recognize came jogging at him from the front entrance of the school. Probably wanting to know how to get in. Too bad, there wasn’t one, unless you were the football coach’s favorite, like Kyle was, and had access to his keys whenever you needed them.
“Can I . . . help you?” Michael asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” the dark-haired guy replied. “Name’s Matt. I’m new here.” He held out his hand for a handshake.
Michael shook it hesitantly, worried that maybe this was a gay guy coming onto him. It happened about once a week as a result of his stellar good looks.
“I’m from Carlsbad.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t care.
“Are you the football guy?”
Michael wrinkled his forehead, not used to being called that. “No, you’re probably thinkin’ of Kyle. He just left.”
“No, I think I’m lookin’ for you. Michael, right?”
Michael squinted suspiciously. “Yeah . . .”
“Yeah, you play wide receiver. Isabel told me about you.”
“Isabel?” he echoed. “You know Isabel?” Was this the guy who’d filmed the movie or something?
“Yeah. I toured the school a few weeks ago. She was the one who showed me around. Nice girl.”
“Well . . .” Less nice as of late.
“I mentioned I wanted to try football my senior year. I’ve played basketball before—Jordan’s my idol—but I kinda wanna try something new. When I told her I wanted to be a receiver, she told me you’re the person to talk to.”
“Huh.” It was kind of . . . flattering, in a way. He was
the person to talk to? That meant he was the best in town. “Yeah, I’m alright,” he said, trying to employ some of the trademark Valenti modesty.
“I hear you’re gonna play in college.”
“Possibly.”
“That’s cool, man.” Matt actually looked . . . a little star-struck, which was weird, because they were basically the same age. “Listen, I don’t know what you got goin’ on today, but if you’re willing, I’d love to get some pointers from you. I really wanna . . . I really wanna make the team, you know? Start things out here on the right foot?”
Michael narrowed his eyes, trying to get a read on this guy. Something just seemed . . . off. But it probably wasn’t. He was just a new kid in school wanting football help. But clearly he didn’t know who he was talking to, because Michael had no desire to help a stranger whatsoever.
“Yeah, you know what, I appreciate that you wanna talk to me,” he said, trying to let the dude down easy, “but I just worked out and did a whole bunch of acrobatic things with my girlfriend last night. I’m kinda worn out.” He turned back around and pulled on the car door again. Still no luck. Dammit.
“Here, let me,” Matt said, stepping up beside him. He gave the door one hard pull, and it opened with ease.
Huh, Michael thought, giving him a reluctant second look.
Maybe the guy’s got some athletic potential after all. He pushed the door shut again and asked, “You got a ball?”
“Yeah, in my car.” Matt’s eyes lit up with hopefulness. “You’ll help me out?”
He shrugged flippantly. “What the hell? Why not?” It would be nice to know that, once he and Kyle were gone, the football team would at least have
some potential to succeed. Besides, Matt seemed like a harmless enough kid. Why not help him out?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
While Maria tried to work, Isabel sat at the counter, giving her the death-stare. Even though Maria wasn’t technically her waitress, every time she walked by, Isabel found something to complain about or some trivial thing for her to do. First it was sending her burger back because it wasn’t cooked well enough. Then it was refilling her soda exactly to the brim. Then it was having her wipe off the counter when the soda spilled over. Then it was Isabel knocking her own second soda over, probably on purpose, just so that Maria would have more to clean.
The feeling of guilt was abating more and more each day. Now, she was really starting to think Isabel Evans was just becoming a flat-out bitch.
“Uh, Maria?” she called. Probably would’ve rang one of those little service bells if she’d had one. “I’d really like some blueberry cheesecake.”
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Maria gripped the edge of the counter hard, struggling to maintain control of the situation. “I’m not your waitress, Isabel.”
“Sure you are,” Isabel claimed.
“No, remember Agnes, the woman who took your order when you first showed up? She’s your waitress, not me.”
Isabel waved her hand dismissively in front of her face. “Agnes moves like a snail. I want efficient service. Which you haven’t exactly provided me, but you’re a step up from her. Blueberry cheesecake, Maria. Now-ish would be nice.”
“No can do,” Maria told her. “We only have strawberry cheesecake today.”
“But I want blueberry.”
“Well . . . too bad.” Miss Isabel was going to have to understand that you didn’t always get what you wanted.
Isabel huffed. “Is that how you talk to your customers? I wonder what your manager would say.” She started to look around for him, but Maria wasn’t worried.
“You know what? I would just remind him that you and your new ‘friends’ . . .” She felt the need to use air-quotes as she said the word. “. . . verbally harassed me the last time you came in here, and I’m sure he’d understand.”
“Hmm. At least I have friends.”
“At least I have Michael,” she shot back, not really caring about even trying to be polite anymore.
“Ooh, yeah, there you go. Bank all your hopes and dreams on him. That’ll work out.”
“Isabel, why don’t you just leave?” Maria suggested adamantly. “You’ve been here for almost two hours.”
Isabel shrugged. “I’m hungry.”
“No, you’re not.” She happened to know for a fact that Isabel hated the food there. “You’re just trying to annoy me. You’re going out of your way to be a total bitch and make my day all the less fun.”
Isabel leaned forward, glaring at her. “Oh, I’m sorry, Maria,” she fake-apologized. “Out of all the people in the world, I definitely wanna make sure
you have fun.”
Maria rolled her eyes, feeling like this was getting her nowhere.
“Although . . .” Isabel leaned back in her seat, smirking. “You’re with Michael now, so I’m sure you’re having plenty of fun. In plenty of different positions.”
“Sure am,” Maria boasted. Although she was still aching from that standing sixty-nine. “But you’re not . . . you’re not jealous, are you?” she countered. “I mean, why would you be? You’ve got the internet guy.”
Isabel stiffened momentarily, and Maria could tell that she’d struck a nerve. She
was jealous, not just on a sex level, but on the deeper level. She was jealous that Maria knew what it felt like to be in love with Michael, and she never had.
Feeling like she’d gotten the best of the other girl this time, Maria tore Isabel’s receipt off of her order pad and slid it across the counter. Thirty bucks exactly. That was a whole lot of Crashdown food.
Isabel picked up the receipt, then took her wallet out of her purse and set it down on the counter. It was like she purposefully made sure Maria could see just how much cash she had in there before she pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and a ten. Then, as an afterthought, she took out a penny and set it down on the counter next to the rest of the cash. “Keep the change,” she said as she got up and headed out.
Maria stared at the small copper coin, hating that Isabel had gotten the last word like that. Giving her that small of a tip was like the ultimate snub, the ultimate way of asserting that she was better than her. All the work she’d done for her today, all the things she’d put up with, were worth way more than one cent.
The worst part, though, was that she actually pocketed the penny. That made her feel pathetic.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was almost too easy. Getting Michael to go down on the football field and toss the ball around . . . not the least bit challenging. Apparently this guy was a simpleton.
“Alright, let’s try again,” Max said, handing Michael the football. “I’m gonna catch it this time.”
“Whatever you say, Matt.”
Max grinned as he darted down the field. Yep. Good old
Matt. That’s who he was. Luckily he and Isabel didn’t look too much alike, or this flimsy story of being the new guy in school never would have worked. He positioned himself at about the fifty yard line, hollering, “Alright, throw it!”
Michael looked rather unenthused as he hurled it in his direction. Max actually tried to catch it, had to lunge to the right a little bit. But football wasn’t his sport, never had been. His dad had made him play back in the fifth grade, and he’d hated every second of it.
“Bad throw,” he muttered inaudibly after he landed on the grass. “Darn!” he said, getting back to his feet. He scampered after the ball, sort of enjoying playing up the façade of bumbling idiot for the time being. It was so opposite of the real him.
“Hey, listen, Matt,” Michael said as he jogged toward him. “It’s not workin’ out. Stick with basketball, alright?” He patted his shoulder, then turned and started to walk to the side of the field, as if he were just done with it.
No way, Max thought, tossing the football over his shoulder. He wasn’t done toying with this guy just yet. “Wanna go shoot some hoops then?” he asked.
Michael turned around slowly, looking a little annoyed. “I don’t like basketball,” he said.
“Or are you just worried you’re gonna get beat?” Max taunted, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to appeal to his competitive side.
“You wouldn’t beat me,” Michael claimed.
“You ever played?”
“Yeah, in middle school.”
“I’ve been playing since the first grade.”
Michael was clearly getting a little riled up, now wanting to be the best at something he didn’t even like. “I’m a natural athlete,” he declared, “Any sport I try, I’m good at. Did pole vault in the ninth grade; I was great. I made it to state wrestling my sophomore year. And football’s my thing.”
“Well, basketball’s mine,” Max said, even though he hadn’t actually played for a couple years. “Come on, I drove by the park on the way here. It looked like there was a court.”
“Yeah.” Michael glared at him, and for a second, Max thought he was putting the pieces together. Recognizing him somehow, or maybe just getting a vibe. But then he remembered that Michael didn’t seem smart enough for that, and he relaxed.
“What’s with you?” Michael flat-out asked. “Don’t you have anyone else around here to bother?”
“You’re the only person I know so far,” Max said, “besides Isabel. Are you two . . . are you two a thing by the way? That day she showed me around, she was staring at you a lot.”
Michael laughed uncomfortably. “No, no, she’s all yours if you’re interested.”
“Oh, no, I’m not,” Max said. “I don’t think that’d be a good romantic combination.” He almost cracked up right then and there but still managed to hold it together. That theater class he’d been forced to take as a college freshman must have paid off, because he wasn’t breaking character. “So what do you say, Michael? You in?”
Michael sighed, looking all sorts of reluctant. But still, he gave in and agreed to it. “Sure, Matt. I’m down for another win.”
Max laughed inwardly, looking forward to turning the tables on this typical high school chump.
The basketball court was a complete role reversal from the football field. Max ran circles around Michael there, scoring on him left and right, only allowing him to make six points. By the end of the game, Michael was sweating and could barely even hobble around anymore. Max hit the fade away shot and exclaimed, “Game!” as it swooshed through the net.
Michael bent over, his hands on his knees, his breath coming in heavy pants. “Shit,” he swore. “I’m tired.”
“That’s ‘cause basketball’s a real man’s sport!” Max slugged his shoulder. Hey, didn’t hurt to rub it in a little bit.
“Really? Is that why women play it, too?” Michael retorted.
“Touché,” Max acknowledged. “It’s constant movement, though, you know. You never get a break.”
Michael staggered over to a run-down bench just off the side of the court, looking like he couldn’t get off his feet fast enough. “No breaks in football, either,” he said.
“Well, sure there are. Like when your team’s on defense.”
“You know what? Football’s America’s sport. You can’t deny that.”
Max sat down beside him, spinning the ball on his right index finger. “No, I guess I can’t,” he conceded. “Hey, you know, maybe I won’t play football next year after all. I could probably really help out the basketball team.”
“Yeah, they suck.” Michael grabbed his water bottle and squirted it over his head to cool himself off.
Max stopped spinning the basketball and set it down between his feet. “Sorry if I’m annoying you, Michael,” he said. “It’s just . . . not easy, you know? Moving to a new town right at the end of the school year . . . it’s kinda rough.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Michael said. “Lived here all my life.”
“Yeah? Ever seen an alien?”
“Just you, Matt. Just you.”
He laughed, even though he didn’t think it was that funny. “I’m sure it gets old, all the little green men crap.”
“Ah . . .” Michael shrugged. “Puts us on the map for somethin’, I guess.”
“Anything else goin’ on here?” Max questioned. “Am I gonna be bored out of my mind here or actually have a good time?”
“Depends what you’re looking for,” Michael told him. “It’s small, compared to some places, but it’s not like it’s a village, you know? At school, everyone knows your business, though. If you’re popular anyway.”
“Which I’m guessing you are.” It wasn’t much of a guess. Isabel had told him.
“I was Snowball king.” Michael smiled momentarily, as if he actually kind of took pride in that fact. “Nah, it’s . . . it’s high school. It’s a joke. But I guess it could be worse.”
“Let’s go, Comets,” Max deadpanned.
“Yeah.” Michael ran his hand through his hair, making it even spikier than it originally was. “Hey, if you don’t wanna play football, I think they’re lookin’ for a mascot. It’s kinda queer, though. Big flamin’ tail, ball on the end. It looks like a dick with one testicle, but it’s not. It’s a comet.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “You think I should wear that?”
Michael shrugged. “Somebody’s gotta. And hey, girls love mascots.”
“Okay, yeah, tell me about the girls in this town,” Max segued, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “What do I have to look forward to? Or who?”
“Uh, well, there’s Roxie,” Michael started. “I’m sure she’ll make you feel very . . . welcome.”
Max smirked, almost wishing he’d really have the chance to hit that. Sluts were always the best in bed.
“And then there’s . . . oh, those two freshmen girls. What’re their names? I think I had a threesome with ‘em at the beginning of the year.”
“You think?” Wasn’t that the kind of thing you would be sure about?
“Yeah, I don’t know, most likely. And, uh . . . plenty of other girls to choose from. What’s your range? How young are you willing to go? Freshman? Sophomore?”
“Well, see, I’m old,” Max said. “For my grade. So ideally, I’d love to meet someone who’s maybe . . . hmm, nineteen? Twenty?”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Know any hot girls that age?” Oh, this was just too fun.
“A few,” he replied vaguely.
“Hmm. So are you the type who just goes around from girl to girl then, whoever catches your eye?” he asked, hoping his questions weren’t getting too obvious. “Or you got a girl to call your own?”
“No, I got a girl.”
“Really?” He feigned surprise, even though Isabel had given him the entire story multiple times just to make sure he had it straight.
“Yeah, is that surprising?”
“Well, kind of. I wouldn’t have pictured you as the settle down type of guy.”
“Well, I wasn’t,” he admitted, “ ‘til I met her.”
“Must be a pretty good girl then.”
“She is.”
Max smirked, remembering. When he’d last seen Maria, she’d been young enough to still be in high school, though she hadn’t been. She hadn’t known how to put on her makeup very well, she’d had these daringly innocent eyes, and she’d been completely and utterly impressionable. He wondered if she was different now, or if she was still the same. “She hot?” he asked, hoping she at least still had that going for her. He’d always hoped, for her sake, that she wouldn’t be one of those girls who let her looks go downhill after having a kid.
“Of course she’s hot,” Michael said, as if that were common knowledge.
“And let me guess: She’s a cheerleader.”
Michael laughed nervously. “No, no, I think I’ve had my fill of cheerleaders.”
“Oh, sorry,” he said. “Stereotypes, you know? I just thought with you bein’ a big-time football player, naturally you’d date a cheerleader, but . . . I guess not.”
“They’re too high-maintenance,” Michael said. “I’m not into it.”
“But you’re into this new girl. You think I’ll find a girl like that?”
“Probably not,” Michael replied. “There’s not another Maria out there.”
“Maria,” he echoed. Coming here, he really hadn’t expected to be saying that name so much. “Pretty name.”
“Pretty girl.”
“I’ll bet.” His memories of Maria weren’t all just the bad ones at the end. There had been some good ones at the beginning. Some fun ones. Some sexy as hell ones. And some very distant, unclear ones, because drug use had been a recurring pastime.
“Hey, I’m starved,” Max blurted. “I know you’re probably gettin’ sick of me . . .”
“I got sick of you out on the football field. Now I’m just putting up with you.”
Max chuckled. “I’m really in the mood for a burger. You know any good places to eat?”
Michael didn’t even have to think about it. He instantly looked less tired and more energized than he had all day. “Actually, I do.”
Perfect, Max thought.
See you soon, Maria.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
( )
Maria came back into the café after eating her lunch in the backroom. Her break had been cut short as a result of two particularly rambunctious five year-olds who had decided that it was more fun to throw their food on the wall than it was to eat it. Hopefully Dylan wouldn’t be like that in two more years.
Agnes, who was filling up the her coffee pot, asked, “How was your break?”
“Short,” Maria replied as she re-tied her ridiculous alien apron around her waist, “but much needed.”
Agnes nodded in agreement, pouring a cup of coffee for . . . herself, by the looks of it. “Your boyfriend came in.”
Maria’s eyes immediately shot towards his usual booth, and a tingle of excitement ran through her when she saw him. He was sitting with somebody else whose back was to her. Probably one of his weirdo friends from school, because it wasn’t Kyle.
Thank God he was here. After dealing with Isabel all morning, there was nothing she wanted to do more than see him.
Well . . . there were
some things she wanted to do more, but they couldn’t do any of those things in the Crashdown. At least not when other people were around.
She quickly grabbed a can of root beer for her man and popped the tab on her way over to the booth. “Hey, guys--” she greeted, nearly falling over when she saw just who he was sitting with.
No. Fucking. Way.
She dropped the bottle on the table, and rolled right off the edge and onto Michael’s lap.
“Oh, alright,” he said, picking it up before it all spilled. “That’s . . . hey.” He grabbed a few napkins out of the napkin holder and started patting his lap dry.
Maria just stared at his dark-haired, dark-eyed companion, convinced that she was seeing things. Because there was just no
way that he could be there, that he ever would be. Why would he . . .? It didn’t make any sense. “Max?”
He just grinned smugly.
“No, Maria, this is Matt,” Michael incorrectly introduced. “He’s new in town.”
Nothing about him was new. Not to her. “Oh my god.” She felt like she was about to pass out.
“Hey, Maria,” Max greeted. “Long time no see.”
“What?” Michael spat.
“Max,” she said again, without the questioning tone this time. No, she wasn’t seeing things. He was really there. In the flesh. In the place where she worked. With her boyfriend.
What the
hell was going on here?
“Wait, this is . . .” Poor Michael. He was more confused than anyone. “Max?
The Max?”
“Well, people don’t usually put an article in front of my name,” Max said, “but go ahead.”
“What’re you . . .” Maria took a step back, absolutely stunned, barely able to form a coherent thought. “What’re you doing here?”
Max shrugged. “Just felt like playin’ some basketball. I beat your boyfriend, by the way.”
Maria shot a look at Michael. Why the hell was he playing basketball with Max Evans?
“I didn’t know it was him!” he explained in a rush.
“Played him for a fool,” Max proclaimed, “which wasn’t too hard.”
“No, I didn’t . . .” Michael, for once, had no comeback. He appeared at a loss for words as he sat there with his hands out, his mouth open, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d just brought her ex into the building. “What the fuck’s happening?”
Maria had no idea. But just seeing Max there, just be so near him . . . it made her feel like the whole world was spinning off its axis. She literally felt dizzy, lightheaded, like she had to get away. “I can’t . . .” She tried to say more, but all she could do was shake her head and hurry away from the table like a spaz.
“No, Maria . . .” Michael called after her.
She ran through the backroom, but that didn’t feel far enough away, so she went out back behind the restaurant, into the alley, holding her head with one hand and her stomach with the other. Oh god, she was gonna be sick.
Michael came out a few seconds later, wearing a worried expression on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked her as the door swung itself shut.
She whirled around and threw her arms down at her sides. “No, I am not
okay, Michael! That’s Dylan’s father in there!”
“I didn’t know,” he insisted.
“I know.” She grimaced. “I know you didn’t know, but . . . what’s he doing here?”
“I don’t know. He just . . . I ran into him up at the school, after Kyle and I got done workin’ out. He said he was a new student, so we started tossin’ the football around, and then . . . he didn’t actually beat me
that bad at basketball. I kinda let him win. There was this one shot where I--”
“Michael!” This
so wasn’t about basketball.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m . . . Maria, I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . . I never would’ve even . . . if I’d known.”
“No, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I’m not—I’m not mad at you; I just . . .” She didn’t even know how to put into words what she was feeling.
Massive confusion and hysteria, mostly, but Michael was probably gathering that much without her trying to express it out loud.
“What do you think he wants?” he asked, moving closer to her.
“I don’t know.” They kept asking each other the same question, but neither one of them had any answers. “Probably just to piss me off.”
“Oh, well . . .” He scratched his eyebrow, looking her up and down. “Clearly it’s not working.”
“Are you kidding? Of course it’s working!” she snapped. “I
hate that guy. I don’t him want here, Michael. Can you just . . .” She inhaled shakily, feeling short of breath, like she was on the verge of a small nervous breakdown. “Can you get him to go? Please?”
Michael pointed to himself in surprise. “Me? You want me to . . .”
“Yes.” She didn’t want to go in there and face him again.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay,” he said. “Yeah, I can . . .” He started backing towards the door. “I’ll tell him to leave.”
“Thank you.” Once he was gone, she could try to forget he’d even been there in the first place.
Michael pulled on the back door, but it locked automatically, so she tossed him her keys. “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he unlocked the door and slipped back inside.
She leaned back against the cold wall and slid down to the ground, a rush of feelings swarming over her. Memories, mostly. Memories of the fear she’d felt when Max hadn’t shown up to the hospital to see Dylan be born. Memories of the betrayal she’d experienced when she realized he wouldn’t be showing up at all. For anything. Not the birthdays, not the holidays. Never.
It hurt to think about all of that again. It hurt so much. Made her shiver, made tears sting at her eyes.
Michael came back out a minute later, her keys dangling at his sides. “He left,” he said.
She stared up at him thankfully. “You got him to go?”
“No, when I went back in, he was already gone.”
“Oh.” Well, better than nothing. In fact . . . yeah, it was probably good that he’d just taken off on his own. This way, there was no big scene. Not that Michael would’ve made a big scene. But if he had, it wouldn’t have been the first time.
He sat down beside her, sighing, and handed her keys back to her. She held onto them for just a second, then dropped them at her feet, not even caring.
Michael put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him. She rested her head on his shoulder, glad he was there. Without him, she would have been a crying, screaming basket case right now. He made this whole, weird thing at least a little easier to deal with, just by putting his arm around her.
But she still felt unsettled, unnerved. That strange feeling she’d had last night was back full-force, and now she knew why. Something told her this was not the last she would see of Max Evans while he was in town.
TBC . . .
-April
