Chapter Text
Mysteries.
I think it was G.K. Chesterton that once called them: “the wonders the world will never starve for,” and honestly? I couldn’t agree more.
In my humble opinion, life ain’t worth living without a little mystery to liven things up, and for people like me, the call of a good mystery isn’t just intriguing – it’s a thirst that’s downright unquenchable.
Chasing the clues, connecting the dots, putting the pieces together – there’s just something so satisfying about solving the equation and figuring out the big twist. It’s addictive in the best possible way, an exercise for the brain that fills you with a hunger you’ll never truly sate. It’s an endless pursuit of a dragon that only gets more and more complicated the longer you scour.
Some people find that thrill in things like true crime, spending countless hours poring over unsolved murders, mysterious disappearances, or just plain ol’ fashioned psychopathy. They draw their own conclusions, write their own possibilities – all while using each and every one of the clues they have available to them. But me? My preferred type of mystery isn’t the kind you’d find in a case file.
No…my type of mystery is the kind that involves people. What makes them who they are and why.
To me, there’s nothing more fascinating than the delicate art of unraveling someone’s layers. Everyone is different in their own special way, each having their own unique experiences and views of the world. Discovering what those are? Understanding what makes them tick? That can be just as thrilling as solving a murder.
And at Blackwell Academy, there’s one fundamental rule about people you learn pretty fast: Everyone – and I mean everyone – has their secrets.
No matter who you are, there’s always a monster under the bed; always a boogeyman in the closet just waiting to spring out at you the second you let your guard down. I’m not talking about all that harmless innocuous stuff – things like an embarrassing little moment you had as a kid. Sure, you might’ve accidentally called your first grade teacher ‘mommy’ and never lived it down, but at the end of the day, those are just mere flickers of discomfort.
It’s only when you dig deeper that you often find something so much darker lurking beneath the surface. Maybe you sent nudes to a guy twice your age thinking you could get a quick buck, or maybe you ran errands for a drug-dealer so you could get your fix free of charge – those are the kinds of secrets kept hidden out of sheer desperation, out of a need for self-preservation.
But there’s another kind of secret even beyond that. The ones we keep hidden from even ourselves. The kind of skeletons we shove so deep into our proverbial cupboards that we pretend they aren’t even there. Because if we don’t, if we let them rise to the surface and rear their ugly heads at us – we might just get lost in the seas of our own minds.
The students at Blackwell aren’t an exception to this, of course. Anyone who’s anyone has a whole kit and caboodle of deep dark secrets they’d rather keep buried in the deepest, most vile parts of their lives.
But that brings me to another rule you learn here: people also tend to be laughably predictable. Even in the controlled chaos of a fresh start like moving day, you already start to see the ever familiar signs of patterns and habits sprouting at the roots.
This year’s moving day turned out to be surprisingly sunny. Thanks to the last few residual throes of the August warmth still lingering in the air, the day was hot and bright — one of the most beautiful afternoons I’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing here in Arcadia Bay.
It was a pretty awesome change of pace in comparison to years past. Usually, this day in particular was depressingly overcast and gray. It always made everything feel so bleak and bleary — as if everyone was collectively grieving the loss of the summer, which didn’t at all help to soothe those ‘start of the school year’ woes.
But not today. Today, everything was colorful and vibrant; the trees were a gorgeous shade of green, and Blackwell — with all of its perfectly placed bricks — was a deep, striking red. When my dad drove me to campus for what would probably be the last time, I actually allowed myself to think things might be different this year. Maybe all that petty highschool drama would finally fizzle out of existence, or maybe, just this once, I could perform the nigh impossible task of simply living without Victoria Chase being a total thorn in my side. Perhaps the shining sun was a sign the student body had finally outgrown all those childish platitudes.
…
Oh, who am I kidding? As if any of these snobs would give up the one thing that keeps their gears lubricated.
My moving routine was business as usual. I’d done it about four separate times before, so by now, I had it down to a pretty tight system. First, I’d carry in all my necessities: clothes, TV, makeup, posters — then, I’d move on to the simpler things like my shower caddy, electronics, and of course, my mattress.
Blackwell bed’s usually came with one, but let me tell you: those things suck. Believe me when I say it’s like lying on the world’s flattest rock.
No thanks, I’d rather keep my spine intact.
It was annoying, grueling work, but carrying boxes in and out of the building wasn’t the only thing I did on moving day.
As it just so happens, there’s always this little ‘lull’ period that exists while everyone is filtering into their rooms. As parents and siblings hoist furniture and decorations inside en masse, everyone tries their damnedest to mind their own business…most of the time. It’s the perfect environment to simply observe, take stock of all the people you’ll be spending the next 180 days living with.
There were a few familiar faces of course. Dana Ward, Juliet Watson, Victoria Chase — the usual suspects that started going to Blackwell around the same time I did. By now, I’d gotten to know them all pretty well.
Too well in some cases.
But then there were the newcomers. Intake students joining the school for their senior year so they could receive one of those fancy Blackwell diplomas. That’s where the real fun was. For someone like me, meeting so many new people all at once and sussing out what they’re like is basically the big beautiful candy shop of my wildest dreams.
Some of them were nervous about being in a brand-new space, jumpy and skittish; others chose to act indifferent, putting on a brave face like they didn’t have a care in the world about suddenly being enrolled into a prestigious art school. But then there were the bolder ones – the students who walked through the dorm halls with their heads held high, determined to make a lasting impression on the very first day – or more likely – make sure everyone knew they meant business.
I know the saying goes, “you should never judge a book by its cover,” but trust me: covers and first impressions tell you a lot more than you might think. Especially on a day like this.
Every now and again between decorating and moving boxes, I’d find myself striking up conversation with all the people I saw, giddy to figure out the inner workings of their minds like I was tinkering with a set of shiny new toys. In the span of just a few minutes, I could make quick friends, learn some interesting tidbits, introduce myself, and best of all, mentally prepare for what I’d have to deal with in the coming months. It was a bit like profiling, except it was all in my head.
…
Okay – maybe it was technically profiling, but I absolutely hate describing it that way. The term always makes it seem so…gross. I like to think of it as more of a cute harmless game than anything else.
Besides, I didn’t get so in-depth that often anyway. Unfortunately, the people that truly managed to catch my eye were usually few and far between. Most of the time, the harsh reality was that almost everyone you meet here tends to be just as predictable as you’d expect.
Take Taylor Christensen, for example: tall blonde girl with an admittedly cute set of bangs covering her forehead. I clocked her as a rich, mean-girl nepo-baby the moment I saw her enter the building. It was something about the way she walked – like her prada boots were too good for the ground beneath her feet.
Another thing I noticed was that she almost immediately latched onto Victoria Chase like some kind of invasive parasite.
From eavesdropping on their talks, I was able to piece together that they’d known each other for a pretty long time. Taylor must’ve gone to middle-school with good ol’ Vic before being enrolled at Blackwell, and now, barely 20 minutes into their move, they’d already become groupies.
Not good. The last thing Victoria needed was a yes-woman who was always at her beck and call.
And then there was Courtney Wagner: smaller girl with a perpetually raised eyebrow and a head of dark-purple hair. She seemed way more excited to be here than the other two, and since she was already good friends with Taylor, she also became buddy-buddy with Victoria by extension.
Great. Juuust great.
Not only would I have to deal with the self-proclaimed ‘Queen Bee’ of Blackwell being an annoying, petty bitch all year long, I’d now have to deal with two other girls constantly stroking her ego like they were being paid for it.
Honestly – I wonder if they actually were…I wouldn’t hold it past Vic to buy off some friends.
The others weren’t all that bad though – at least not in a way that would make my social life a living hell. Brooke Scott, infamous robotics prodigy with thick-rimmed glasses and red highlights, was ridiculously blunt and annoyingly disinterested in conversation. From the few moments I actually spoke to her, I’d learned she won a pretty huge national robotics competition the previous year. She definitely seemed the type to think she was too good for this place and the people in it. It was because of that I reasoned she probably wasn’t a social butterfly and would likely keep to herself as much as she could. No skin off my back if you ask me.
Stella Hill was the opposite however. She was way, way more outgoing – wanted to know pretty much everything there was to know about everyone at school – especially if anything juicy was going on between them. I liked her energy, but she got a little too into it for my tastes. In order to escape, I was forced to back off and act like I had something to do.
But then there was Kate Marsh. Someone infinitely more interesting than the rest.
I knew she lived just barely outside of town, but aside from that, I only knew her by her reputation. From what I’d heard floating around, she was looking to start an abstinence club and spent most of her weekends working with Meals On Wheels to feed the homeless. If I really tried and strained my brain, I could faintly recall the image of Kate traversing town with the church youth groups earlier that summer too. For all intents and purposes, she was basically an angel – a wondrous girl plucked straight from folktale.
Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out she was actually some kind of beautiful forest nymph with a heart of gold, but the truth turned out to be a helluva lot more tame.
It didn’t take me long to spot her. Turns out, my beautiful folklore nymph was nothing more than a sweet-looking girl with a lot of hair and a strangely modest wardrobe. She had her dirty blonde locks tied into this huge bun atop her head, and her eyes? Same color as mine: hazel.
And even though it was about 80 degrees (and hotter still inside the dorms), she decided it was best to wear a black cardigan and a white dress shirt. I think the only reason she wasn’t sweating her ass off was because of her skirt. Gray and prim – just above the knees.
She was cute, and based on how she moved around I could sense there was a soft, gentle sweetness to her. A warmth that made the whole hall seem a lot brighter just by virtue of her being there.
All that raw, calming energy nearly sucked me right in – begged me to get closer – but unfortunately, there was just one teensy tiny little problem that stopped me: the golden cross wrapped around her neck and the bible she was pulling out of her box.
The thing looked ancient, a probable hand me down from her family if I had to guess. Its binding looked fragile, like it’d been redone multiple times over the course of many years. Judging by how many color-coded post-it notes and bookmarks were practically bursting from the pages, I was willing to bet it’d need another repair pretty soon.
I guess I should’ve known she’d be the super religious type. Starting an abstinence club and parading youth groups around town wasn’t exactly something most agnostic teenagers did these days.
But still, even if it was all well meaning – knowing she wore her faith on her sleeve like that – it made me a little cautious.
Being Christian in of itself isn’t an inherently bad thing, but in my experience, the people most immersed in God are also the ones who end up being the most hateful. I know a few people around town who’d probably shoot someone between the eyes if they saw them kissing the same sex, and considering I wasn’t exactly straight myself, I had to wonder if Kate was someone I should try to avoid.
I wouldn’t know unless I actually spoke to her though, so as soon as we crossed eyes, I meandered to her door and leaned against the frame with a winning smile. The poor blonde seemed genuinely shocked to see me, a small rabbit caught in an ironbound cage. She didn’t know me, but she must’ve been wondering if I was there to harass her or say hi. Knowing Blackwell, she’d probably gotten a hefty dose of the former not too long ago and was still trying to be careful.
“You’re new here, right?” I queried, extending a hand. “Name’s Rachel.”
Kate took it tentatively, giving me a nervous smile of her own. Her grip was surprisingly firm. “Uh – yeah. Hi! My name’s Kate. Kate Marsh. I’ve uh – I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“No shit? Guess my reputation precedes me,” I beamed. “Good things, I hope? Unless you get your information from Victoria, in which case, you probably think I’m an evil witch sent to start the apocalypse.”
That actually got her to start giggling. It was a sweet sound, a thick dollop of honey caressing your eardrums.
“Yes, good things I promise. Dana, down the hall? She told me you’d probably stop by to chat, actually. Said it was your ‘thing’ on moving day.”
“Guilty,” I admitted, “Honestly though, I really can’t help it. I mean come on, who doesn’t wanna meet all the cute girls you’ll be spending the next year living with?”
Kate nodded, her smile deepening and her cheeks flushing with color. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Everyone here’s been amazing so far…for the most part, at least.”
“Let me guess: you had your first run-in with dollar-store Mia Farrow?”
She grimaced, but still nodded all the same. “That’s the one…she and her friends don’t seem to like the idea of my abstinence club all that much.”
Frowning, I reached forward and brushed her arm sympathetically. “Hey, don’t let her get to you. Victoria’s about 98% bark, 1% bite, and another 1% angry chihuahua.”
She smirked, but it didn’t last very long. Just as soon as it came, it fizzled away into something more somber and forlorn; hazel eyes shifting towards the ground in defeat. “I won’t, but…it just hurts when people write stuff like this off, y’know? It’s not like I’m forcing anybody to attend or anything.”
That’s when she gave me a hopeful glance, her hands suddenly clasping together in plea. “You know her, right? Do you think that – maybe – if I encouraged her and her friends to attend a meeting, they’d start seeing things a little differently?”
That sentiment was so ridiculous it almost made me laugh. I mean, come on: Victoria? In an abstinence club? Changing her ways like some born again Christian?
The only reason I didn’t immediately reel over in hysterics right then and there was because I noticed that Kate was somehow being completely one hundred percent serious.
The way her eyes locked onto mine with so much hopeful optimism…god, that shit made me sad. In her heart of hearts, Kate truly believed there was a chance she could change Victoria for the better. Even after meeting her and being an apparent victim of her hazing, she still saw the good in her.
I sighed, thinking it was probably best to let her down gently. “I’m sorry Kate, but…in all the time I’ve known her, Victoria’s never stopped being a petty bitch (excuse my language). You’re better off putting your energy into something that’ll actually benefit people. Like – Meals On Wheels: you help them out, right?” “Every weekend,” Kate said, eyeing me suspiciously. “How did you–”
“Word travels fast. But seriously, focus on stuff like that. It’ll be better for you in the long-run”
“I suppose you’re right…” she agreed. “But still, I like to have hope.”
Shit. This girl does not belong here and I mean that in a good way.
“Just – measure your expectations, alright? You probably have enough on your plate as it is without Blackwell being involved, you don’t need Victoria to make things worse. Honestly, I have no idea how you’re even gonna manage homework and so many other obligations all at once.”
“Yeah…it’s gonna be tough I’d imagine,” Kate conceded, looking about as exhausted as she sounded. “Not to mention, I’m about to add another obligation to that list.”
My intrigue all but bled through my lips. “Oh? What kind?”
“Eh…it’s probably best I keep quiet about it for now. I don’t wanna disrespect anyone’s privacy or anything.”
“Ugh, we’ve only just met and you’re already killing me, Marsh! You can’t just say that and not tell me anything!”
“Sorry,” she giggled. “Slip of the tongue, honest! Don’t worry though you’ll find out soon enough.”
“That ‘soon’ better be like – today.”
“We’ll see. For now though, I should probably finish unpacking. It was nice meeting you, Rachel! And – thanks. For – talking, and all.”
“Don’t sweat it,” I smiled. “If you ever need me, I’m room 224.”
“Thanks. Same goes to you by the way. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to stop by, okay?”
“For a girl like you? I definitely won’t.”
I wish I could’ve gotten the chance to bask in how cute Kate’s blush was after I said that, but as a well renowned actor of the Blackwell drama club, I knew when it was time to make an exit. So, with a single wink and not another word, I continued on with my day like nothing had happened, going right back outside to grab the last of my stuff.
It was a long, slow walk, deliberate in its pace. Anyone walking behind me would’ve lost their mind with how leisurely I was being, but I had good reason: I wanted to take my time – collect my thoughts and assess what I’d learned.
As my feet stepped across the rough surfaces of carpets, concrete and asphalt, the one thought on my mind was that I’d just made so many damn assumptions like it was nothing.
The way I judged Kate so preemptively just goes to show how much this town and its bullshit have twisted my outlook on people. Kate might’ve been religious, but she was nice. Too nice for a place like this, honestly. From how that conversation went, I could gather there wasn’t a single inkling of judgement to be found behind those big starry eyes of hers.
She was genuine, and a person like that is one in a million when it comes to a place like Arcadia Bay.
She’d actually piqued my curiosity back there too. This “other obligation” she spoke of…I wondered what it was. She was already busting her ass with charity work and club management as it is – what else could she possibly take on this semester that she hadn’t already?
She said I’d figure it out soon enough, but there was no telling how long that would take. If I wanted to find out, I’d likely have to do some string pulling; call in a couple favors and ask around.
It was definitely a little invasive, but sorry, Kate: patience is definitely not one of my virtues.
I began calculating my plan of attack, wondering where I’d start first while I carried the last of my decor into the building, but unexpectedly, something stopped me mid-way. During my little walk, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye that almost immediately grabbed my attention: a name on the floor map I didn’t quite recognize.
The letters were big and bold, just like everyone else’s, but something about this person’s name stood out among the rest; striking in its simplicity:
Max Caulfield.
I couldn’t help but stop in my tracks and stare, inching forward to observe the name a little more closely. I knew I was searching for something, though I wasn’t sure what – maybe some kind of detail hidden within the fine print?
I raised a hand, fingers brushing against the paper in a slow, methodic glide; like the secret I was looking for would somehow come to me through touch.
Apparently, her room number was 219 – the one at the very end of the hall right across from Victoria’s (poor thing).
You’d figure being at the very end would’ve pretty much guaranteed I’d spotted her at least once by now, but even after hours of decorating my room and roaming the halls, I still hadn’t caught so much as a glance.
That was already pretty weird by itself, especially since I’d been standing around and talking to people for so long. Did that mean she brought all of her stuff in on one go? I mean – it was definitely possible, but students at Blackwell tend to have so much shit it takes forever to bring it all in. Even someone like Kate had a million and one boxes filled to the brim with art supplies and clothes.
What’s more was that no one seemed to know her either. She didn’t have a reputation like Kate or Brooke did, and she wasn’t hanging out with mutual friends like Victoria, so…where was she? And for that matter, who was she?
Was she here on scholarship or were her parents rich enough to pay for her tuition out of pocket? What did she specialize in? Where did she come from? Why’d she choose Blackwell? Was she any good? Was she sociable? Introverted?
Questions blazed through my mind like a roaring wildfire, its spread fueled only by the simple fact that as far as I could tell, this girl was a complete and total ghost.
I’d heard rumors and whispers pertaining to just about everyone at Blackwell at least once before, but this Max girl? She was an anomaly, an outlier amidst a group of people all too similar in ways they don’t seem to realize.
From that fact alone I could tell she was different, felt it in my bones.
Unlike everyone else I’d just met and mingled with, she was a blank slate – a completely fresh start far removed from all the petty judgements behind Blackwell’s lenses and filters. Knowing that kind of person was here, knowing there was so much to learn about her…it made every single curious synapse in my body fire off with the force of a nuclear bomb.
And for me, there’s only one reaction to that kind of intrigue.
Without another moment to spare, I hightailed it upstairs – the last of my boxes close in hand. I tried not to seem too rushed, but it was hard not to skip a step or two when I had such a clear goal in mind. I probably looked like a madwoman, hobbling around with so much shit rattling around, but honestly? I didn’t care. If Victoria saw me, she could make fun of me all she wanted. What mattered the most was saying hello to Max and introducing myself before the likes of Juliet or “Queen Bitch” had the chance to beat me to it.
By the time I set my boxes down and started walking towards her room, I wasn’t sure if being on the opposite end of the hall was more of a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it only made the journey that much longer. On the other, it gave me the chance to take a deep breath and ensure I looked presentable. Like I said, first impressions are everything, and unlike all the other people in this school, there was a good chance Max had no idea who I was. At least, I hoped not. The last thing I needed was to supplant the idea that I’m some sort of promiscuous minx onto the new girl.
I kept my pace casual and slow, anticipation making every step I took feel like it weighed a thousand pounds. As I honed in on that very last door at the end of the hall however, my ears perked up at the faint sound of grumbles and muffled voices. It was a man and a woman, both of whom were speaking softly to someone inside the room.
My curiosity got the better of me before I had the chance to react, and without even thinking about it, I stopped moving and stood stock-still, the desire to eavesdrop momentarily taking priority over barging into Max’s room.
“Are you absolutely sure you have everything, sweetie?” the woman said, her tone a little anxious and hurried. I guessed that was her mom. From the sound of it, she really didn’t wanna leave so soon.
“Alright…and all your clothes too?”
Wait, what?
That was weird…if Max had spoken, I didn’t hear it. Must’ve been the quiet type.
“Okay, okay. We’ll stop doting. We’re just – just not ready to leave you yet.”
“Honey, come on. Let’s at least give our little girl the chance to settle in, alright?” the man said this time. “She doesn’t need her parents losing their minds when she should be trying to make some new friends.”
Unlike her mother, her dad’s voice was silky smooth, and firm. He sounded strong yet caring – the kind of guy that could calm you down with just a few well-placed words of reassurance. It was probably stupid to think this, but it made me feel a small twinge of jealousy inside my gut. I’d always wished my dad was like that…
“But – no. No, you’re right,” the mother conceded, although she sounded supremely uncertain. “Sweetheart? We’re gonna leave now…God, you’re gonna be all on your own…”
Again, Max didn’t respond, but everyone in the room momentarily went silent. Was my hearing seriously that bad or was Max just that quiet?
“Please promise me you’ll stay far, far away from any trouble? If you feel uncomfortable or like something isn’t right, you run. Got it? We’re always a call away, and if you ever need us we can take you right back home, no questions asked.”
Sheesh…talk about overprotective parents.
“Love you, kiddo,” the father said. “Text us before the night ends, okay?”
And with that, their conversation had come to an end. For a split-second, I briefly considered pressing forward again to try and get a better look, but the moment I saw two multi-colored blobs pop out of the doorway, I rushed into the nearby alcove that led to the bathroom. I made sure to hug the wall as closely as I could manage, hoping and praying they’d walk right past me without noticing my snooping.
Luckily, they didn’t, and as they lumbered past, I took note of their appearances. While I couldn’t quite see their faces, I could tell the dad was about as tall and burly looking as I expected him to be. He was dressed in a flannel shirt that eerily reminded me of a certain someone I knew, and even from behind, I could see he had a pretty huge beard. It probably took him forever to grow that thing out.
The mom, though; she was tiny and had dark hair. Her outfit wasn’t anything special, but she was hunched over, patting her nose with what looked like a tissue. As she shuffled to the stairs, I could hear tiny sniffles of sorrow emanating from her throat. The low cry of a mother bird finally letting her baby leave the nest.
“Will she be okay?” she whispered. “What if–”
“She’ll be fine. I promise, Vanny,” the dad assured. “Come on, let’s get home.”
And with that, the two of them turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.
Slowly but surely, the sound of their footsteps grew quieter and quieter with each passing second. As I listened to them leave, I couldn’t help but think that Max’s mom’s words were kinda…weird. I know it’s natural for a mother to feel protective of her child – especially if you’re leaving them to live on their own for a year – but, still…that was a bit of an overreaction, wasn’t it? It sounded like she thought Max might get herself murdered if she wasn’t careful. Like she had so little faith in her daughter’s ability to stay safe in this town.
I shook my head, shrugging it off as me simply overanalyzing things, as usual. It wasn’t that serious. Just a concerned mother – nothing more, nothing less. Right now, what I needed to focus on was that the coast was completely clear. It was time to meet this Max once and for all.
Turning the corner, I resumed my slow, methodic pace. As I passed Kate and Victoria’s rooms, I noticed that Kate was already decorating and arranging inside. Her door was closed, and I could hear her shuffling around, moving boxes left and right. I could’ve sworn I also heard her talking to someone too – a girl named Alice, I think? Must’ve been one of her friends. Victoria on the other hand? She seemed to be preoccupied at the moment, which was fine by me. That meant the only other person I had to worry about was Brooke, but considering she was hellbent on keeping to herself, it looked like it was just going to be me and Max. Perfect.
A few steps later and room 219 was so close I could hardly contain my excitement. I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to learn. I could feel it, a desire – no, a need – to know everything there was to know about this mystery girl. It’s not everyday I get to meet someone with fresh eyes.
Questions I could ask rushed through my mind at lightspeed, my brain floundering to pick just the perfect phrase I could use to open the conversation:
“Where are you from?”
Too much too fast – I’d seem like a stalker.
“What are you studying?”
I’d probably be able to tell the second I entered her room.
“Are you here on scholarship?”
What, did I want to invade her personal privacy?
…You know what? Don’t answer that.
For a moment, it seemed like I’d never settle on anything, but the moment I touched the stained wood of Max’s door frame, everything started to move so much slower.
I was worrying too much. All I had to do was introduce myself and do what I did best: improvise. If I could handle the likes of Victoria Chase on a daily basis, I could talk to the new girl without getting caught up in all the questions still lingering inside my head.
Alright, this is it, I thought. What kind of person will you turn out to be, Max Caulfield? Just another spoiled rich kid, or something more interesting?
So, without another shred of hesitation, I put on my best smile and peered into Max’s room in one swift movement.
It was….surprisingly barren. That was the first real thing I noticed.
There were posters and other knick-knacks haphazardly strewn about along the walls – bands I’d never heard of before, vinyl records, photographs, pennants. It might’ve been pretty homey-looking if it wasn’t all jumbled together on one side of the room. The furniture was sparse too. It was really just a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a bookshelf that hadn’t been filled yet. Other than that? The place looked downright empty, save for a lone guitar case, and a potted plant whose name seemed to be Lisa (her name was written on the pot).
Compared to the well-decorated and lived-in rooms of people like Victoria, Max’s seemed so…temporary. Like she’d only brought the bare necessities with her to Blackwell and wasn’t planning on staying long. It didn’t have much of a theme to it either. Where someone like Dana would drench their room in various shades of pink and purple, Max’s was just a collection of multi-colored posters and mismatched furniture with no rhyme or reason to their placement. Either she didn’t like living large, or she was terrible at decorating.
More questions…
But what caught my attention next wasn’t the room – it was the girl sitting comfortably at the center of the back wall. She was just barely hunched over an old wooden drafting table, hands moving with practiced purpose as she guided a pencil across a large sheet of paper. Based on the mountain of sketchbooks and art supplies covering the desk, it didn’t take a whole lot of brain power to guess that she was an artist.
Her hair was a little messy – brown like her dad’s – and even from a distance, I could see it was layered in some sort of short bob. Cute, in a quiet sort of way.
I figured she would’ve noticed me stopping in front of the doorway to stare by now, but she was so engrossed in her drawing that she didn’t seem fully aware of her surroundings. Whatever she was working on, it must’ve been important.
Unfortunately though, I’d have to interrupt that little project of hers. I came here for a reason, and right now, it was show time.
With a deep breath, I casually leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms to seem more relaxed. Through it all, I made sure my smile was as bright and inviting as I could make it.
“You must be Max,” I said, keeping my voice cool.
The poor girl nearly jumped right out of her seat – a quick, sharp flinch followed by startled stiffness. I felt a little bad about it the moment I saw her pencil fly across the room. I seriously didn’t think she was so far into her own little world that simply hearing the sound of my voice would spook her like that.
“Sorry!” I added, quickly. “Didn’t mean to scare you, just wanted to say hi.”
It took a few seconds, but Max seemed to relax after hearing that. Her shoulders slumped in relief, and her body seemed to deflate like a leaking water balloon. strangely though, she didn’t make a sound or even respond. Weird…
It was only after she let out a deep breath that she turned her head to look at me. It was hard to tell exactly what her face looked like from the side, especially with her mousy hair blocking most of the view, but when she stood up to face me, I found myself almost completely entranced.
She was about as tall as me (five foot three give or take an inch), and just as I predicted, her hair was cut into a shaggy, layered bob. Bangs hung low over her eyebrows, drawing attention to the splash of freckles across her nose. She was cute…almost agonizingly so, but what really pulled me in were those big blue eyes of hers.
They were so vivid, yet strangely dark. A murky sort of blue that made them look like two vast oceans about a mile deep each.
When they stared at me, I felt something chilly run down the length of my back. A feeling that somehow, Max was seeing something I couldn’t.
I tried to shake it off, focusing on her clothes instead with the hope I’d be able to distract myself. Unlike her face though, her choice of attire was a little less captivating: a too-large white t-shirt with a hot dog graphic hanging off one of her shoulders, a pair of denim shorts, a black choker – it was striking, but in the oddest way possible. Like she’d grabbed all the first things she saw while rummaging through her closet.
She either had to be lazy or somehow had the strangest kind of fashion sense. But still, that didn’t change the fact that the girl I was looking at was the most interesting thing I’d seen in a long time.
I only noticed I was full-on staring when Max placed a hand on her hip, expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. She tilted her head, brow furrowing as if to ask, What?
Shit, so much for giving Max a good first impression. I was supposed to be all cool and collected, but here I was, staring at her slack jawed like I was some sort of cartoon character caught mid-swoon.
In response, I let out a small laugh to ease the tension.
“Sorry, my brain is like – totally out of it today. Got up super early, had to move all my shit here, you know how it is,” I remarked smoothly. “Anyway hey, my name is–”
I was cut off. Before I could finish, Max began doing something that caught me completely off-guard. Out of nowhere, she started moving her hands and fingers around in a series of quick, practiced motions I couldn’t quite make out.
It might’ve been foreign to me, but I knew what those gestures meant the second I saw them.
Max wasn’t just maneuvering all her digits around for the hell of it – she was speaking sign language.
And if she was using ASL, that meant–
Oh.
Oh shit.
Suddenly, all those aforementioned puzzle pieces started clicking soundly into place.
That was why I couldn’t hear her speaking to her parents.
That was the reason she hadn’t said anything when I spooked her.
She couldn’t have been hard of hearing considering she heard me just fine a couple seconds ago, which only meant one thing: Max? this new girl I knew nothing about? She had to be mute.
And ironically enough, for the first time in years, someone had just made me completely and utterly speechless.
When she finished all her little movements, she placed a hand back on her hip and gave me a curious look; the tiniest hint of hope and expectancy peering through her pupils. She wanted me to respond, but I had no idea how to speak sign language. And as much as I pride myself on being a fast learner, approximately nothing she just said made any sort of sense to me. Might as well have been gibberish.
My next words came out all jumbled and broken, something I definitely wasn’t used to. A stumble like this made me feel vulnerable, exposed. A feeling I only rarely ever experienced. That wasn’t even mentioning the fact that Max’s eyes felt like they were somehow boring straight into my soul. Definitely not helping.
“Oh! I – I, uh– well, you see – I don’t –”
Fuck me, what a total failure…all I wanted to do was make a new acquaintance and I couldn’t even respond to the first words she’d said to me. Forget first impressions, Max must’ve thought I was a total dumbass.
I could already feel the droplets of sweat making my skin feel cold and chilly, the beat of my heart rising by the second. For once, I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do.
Well – I guess there was really only one thing I could do: tell the truth and hope it didn’t make me seem like an ignoramus.
“Look, I’m so sorry,” I pleaded. “I – I really don’t understand–”
“Oh, Rachel!”
Cut off again, a sweet yet familiar voice as cozy as a fireplace echoed from down the hall just a few feet away from me. Kate’s.
The breath of relief I let out must’ve taken a solid 20 pounds off of me.
Thank fuck, I thought. Talk about Saved by The ‘Belle’.
“Figures I’d find you here,” she smiled, closing the distance in just a few strides. “Guess you’ll be learning about my new obligation sooner rather than later, huh?”
I turned to look at her, hoping the last few residual jitters from that awkward moment weren’t plastered all over my face like a billboard. “H-huh? Your…new obligation?”
“Uh huh,” the blonde nodded, waltzing into the room and giving Max a light wave. “Nice to meet you, Max! I’m Kate. Sorry it took me so long to get over here, I had to make sure my lil’ roommate was all situated.”
Okay, what? How did Kate know Max? And who the hell was her “lil’ roommate?” Jesus Christ, the questions were piling up way too quickly for my brain to keep track.
Under literally any other circumstance, I probably would’ve asked them both flat-out. Us Leos tend to be pretty forthcoming that way. However, in this moment, all I could bring myself to do was stupidly stand still in the doorway and stare.
So stare I did, silently watching as Max gave Kate a pleading look accompanied by yet another series of gestures – different ones this time from what I could tell. When she finished, Kate responded without missing a single beat. “Yep! Principal Wells knows about everything, promise.”
Whatever that meant, the brunette was so glad to hear it her shoulders nearly slumped to the ground. It seemed like she was finally getting the chance to relax; her eyes closed, hands fell to her sides – and, unless I was hearing things – she let out a small hushed breath of relief; tiny and barely audible.
Kate giggled at that, a sound so cute it managed to keep me afloat amidst the sea of questions swirling around inside my head.
But then Max made another few signs, and this time, one of them was a quick, unmistakable point towards me. Uh oh.
“Oh, who’s that?” Kate remarked, turning to look at me. With both girls staring I felt like I might just crumble into a billion tiny pieces, puke any second. Seriously, what the hell was going on with me right now?
“Max, this is Rachel Amber!” she added, gesturing towards me before doing the same to Max. “Rachel, Max.”
For a moment I just stared. But when I saw Kate blinking at me with a look of utter perplexity, I realized I was probably supposed to say something.
Quickly, I shook my head and muttered a tiny “heya.” Despite me probably looking like a malfunctioning robot however, Max still smiled and waved like absolutely nothing was wrong. The way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she curled her lips like that only added to the queasiness.
“As you’ve probably guessed by now, Max is mute,” Kate said. “And that’s where I come in! That ‘obligation’ I was talking about? Well, for the time being…I’m gonna be her interpreter here at Blackwell!”
…
I think it was right about then that I finally hit my limit. As soon as the words ‘interpreter’ came out of Kate’s mouth, my brain started short-circuiting; a quick sharp jolt, straight to the cerebrum. It made me feel like a fried computer-chip overloading on electricity.
What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Or do? Or – fuck – think? I’d gotten so used to the idea that I could size just about anyone up in a split-second that a surprise like this might as well have launched my mind towards a whole other star system.
“Uh…that’s – wow, Kate. I –”
Awesome. Doing a great job there, Amber. Really killin’ it out there.
But of course the surprises weren’t over just yet.
As I stumbled over my words and tried to come up with something even remotely coherent to say, Max pulled out her phone and started typing something into the keyboard. Jesus Christ she moved so fast…in my stupor, I could hear all the little clicks and clacks of her finger presses zooming by at what sounded like a thousand miles an hour. It was borderline hypnotic.
But then she suddenly stopped, and slowly, putting on perhaps the softest, sweetest smile I’d ever seen, she stepped forward and held the screen up to my face. She’d been on the notes app, and inside the little textbox she’d written:
Nice to meet you, Rachel!
Oh boy…this year was really gonna be something else, wasn’t it?