Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Vice Principal Shade said—”
“He wasn’t there and he doesn’t know what fucking happened.”
Max’s vitriol worries me. I nod a little and try to keep my voice measured and calm, but my mind flashes back to that room with its Polaroids and the filth staining the floor. I glance at Max’s black eye, and my stomach is a twisted knot of worry.
“Why don’t you tell me then? You know I’m on your side.”
Max shakes his head and goes quiet again.
I park in the street near the apartment and Max storms up without saying anything. I let him go, trailing after. He’s been through a lot these last few months and from what I understand, the fight was pretty intense, and I figure he needs some time to process. Max isn’t the aggressive, violent type, and Shade did mention that he’s never had any disciplinary issues before, which is why he isn’t suspended.
But I am way out of my depth here.
I’m not a parent. I don’t have kids and I have no clue how to deal with a hurt, angry teenager. I’m not Max’s mother, although I’m not sure if she’d be all that helpful in this situation, either. Maybe fifteen years ago, but not anymore. She’s too drained, too exhausted. Too beaten down and broken by our piece-of-shit father.
I wish I didn’t have to be the strong one. But I suck it up, take a breath, and head inside.
Max sits slumped on the couch staring at his phone. I go into the kitchen and shoot Baptist a quick text: All good here, just teenager stuff.
He replies right away. Let me know if you need any help.
Are you an expert in teen boys now? I ask him, smiling to myself.
He sends, I was one at some point, believe it or not.
I’ll reach out if I need any wisdom about masturbation and porn from teen Baptist.
I stand watching Max, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, I drift over into the living room and sink down into the couch next to him. He glances over, frowning, but says nothing when I flip on the TV, navigate to Netflix, and put on our favorite movie, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles live action film from the nineties. It’s campy, silly, goofy fun, and it’s just the sort of thing he needs right now.
He glances up and frowns. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Luring me out.”
“Is it working?”
“A little bit.”
I laugh and move closer. “Want me to order pizza?”
“Yeah, actually, I really do.”
“You got it.” I hesitate and turn the volume down. “But why don’t you tell me what happened first.”
“It was stupid,” he mumbles, staring at his phone and avoiding my glance. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Come on, Max. I’m not Dad. I’m not Mom. I’m not going to give you shit, I just want to actually help you, and I can’t do that if you won’t tell me what’s going on. Please.”
That makes him smile slightly. “Dad would use it as an excuse to lecture me on why I’m never going to be as smart as he is. Mom would say something like, ‘Oh, sweetie, that’s so sad for you,’ then drift away and sit out back by the pool for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, I’m left to fend for myself.”
“That’s why you’re here. To escape from Dad’s lectures and Mom’s apathy.”
He laughs and shifts his weight so he’s sitting on his feet. “It was just a stupid thing, okay? There’s this guy I have gym with and he’s a fucking asshole, just this like fascist, shaved head, Nazi douchebag, you know what I mean? He’s always such a prick—”
“Has he bothered you before?”
Max shrugs. “Yeah, a little. Me and a few of the others.”
“Other what?”
“Blair.” He looks uncomfortable. “You know. The other gay kids.”
I smile slightly. I’ve known for a while, but we’ve never actually spoken about it—I figured it’s his business and he can come to me when he’s ready. That’s the first time he’s actually admitted he’s gay to me, and a strange little bloom of pride spreads in my chest. I’m happy he’s beginning to trust me enough to talk about who he is.
“What did he say to you?”
He turns slightly red with anger. “This guy’s just a total homophobe prick and today I got sick of it. I told him he’s probably just working through some complicated gay feelings of his own and he didn’t appreciate that analysis, so he punched me in the face, and I just lost it.”
“Oh, Max.”
“He called me the F word. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” I sigh and rub my temples. No wonder Max got in a fight—I’m proud of him for standing up to a bully like that. “Is that his blood on your shirt?”