THREE || Screw Cloud Nine, I'm On Cloud One Hundred

It's Monday, twenty-fourth of December, and Maxine Grifes is in my classes. All of them.

This is, of course, not a surprise. Every Stud gets moved into the classes their tutor is in for the rest of the year, if they aren't in the same classes already. And yet, when the bell rings and students are already settled into their seats, she's nowhere to be seen.

Ms. Acosta's eyes sweeps around the class. "Isn't Maxine Grifes supposed to be transferred here?" Met with a few murmurs and unintelligible words. She sighs in exasperation, rubbing her forehead. "Angel, you're her tutor, right? Can you go look for her? If you can't find her, just come back."

I scoot back and stand up, heading for the door as Ms. Acosta starts to explain ye old Germanic history. Once I'm out the door and in the hall, I shuffle around the school for a bit, yelling Maxine's name at random intervals. After a few minutes, there's no response, so I walk back to class, heart heavy.

I'm prepared to weep about the fact that she skipped, but she's there, just outside the classroom, taking books out of her locker and sweeping them into her arms. "Hey," she says, raising a hand in greeting. Her knuckles are split open and bruised. "I'm know I'm late, okay? I was doing something." She offers a shrug in apology, and my anger dissipates.

We enter the classroom together, and no one bats an eye. Ms. Acosta opens her mouth, but Maxine slams her books down onto the table before she can say anything. "Yeah, yeah, I'm late." It's not an apology, just an acknowledgement. Ms. Acosta sighs and continues with the lesson.

I slide my chair next to Maxine's and peer over her shoulder to see what she's written in her notebook. Her handwriting looks like a rooster tried to do the left-hand challenge, but it's pretty in a sort of messy way.

Germanic Wars - a sequence of wars between Rome and some Germanic tribes. 113 BC to 592 AD. Brought the downfall of the Byzantine Empire. The Cimbrian War marked the start of them?

"Not quite," I correct, pointing at the paper, "it was between 113 BC and 596 AD, not 592. It brought the downfall of the Western Rome Empire, not the Byzantine." She scratches it out and rewrites. "We need to get you a better note-taking system. Like mine." I open my notebook up and show it to her, and she recoils at the sight of my multi-coloured, excessively decorated notes.

"What?" I laugh, acting fake-offended. Maxine rolls her eyes.

"Nothing. It's just so... colourful." She blows a chunk of hair up from her face, but it settles between her eyes instead. Her hand goes up to brush it away, and again there's the sight of bruises, blossoming purple and blue patches, blood drying on the back of her hand. She scratches it away. "I've never cared about notes. The material's usually in the book."

She jolts back a bit when I wiggle my finger in her face, which I admit was probably a bit surprising. "That's where you're wrong, buddy," I say, struggling to keep my voice quiet, "The book covers some of the stuff, but there are some extra details and even topics that aren't summarised there."

Ms. Acosta hears me and glares. I grin sheepishly and continue explaining to Maxine about the wars and history and barbarian leaders.

Once class is over, the bell rings as usual, and a usual day of classes passes by. The only conscious change is Maxine, because, well, she's everywhere. In my classes, sitting next to me at lunch, and now, beside me in the library again, both of us poring over a history book.

I wanted to start on biology, but she insisted on studying history first, because she claims she's bad at it. She just mixes up dates, terms, and names a lot, but when we finally find a way to effectively link stuff together with her she's not too bad at it. She also bites down on her pencil a lot. I'm not exactly grossed out, but it's distracting, as is everything that has to do with her mouth.

"So... GK conquered 15% of the planet? That's cool. Half of... Eur - asia?" Okay hand sign from me, and the tension flows out of her shoulders. "Born in sometime during spring in 1206, and died in the late twelve-twenties." She taps her pencil against her bottom lip. Christ. "GK's predecessor was Ögedei Khan." Then ilence that drags out for a minute until she sighs. "That's it."

"Nah, that was fine. This is our last topic anyway. Although if you could please stop referring to Genghis Khan as 'GK', that would please me greatly." I massage my forehead and she grins.

"Would you prefer 'Gangster Genghis'?"

"No, I would not."

"Big G."

"Please stop."

She laughs. "Big G it is." Her eyes move from my face to the window behind me, where the afternoon was slowly fading into evening, the sky a shade of dusky amber intertwined with grey and amber. Building lights were switched on, little boxes of light in the darkening sunset. "Hey, where do you live?"

I must mutter something like "wuh-uh?" because she repeats the question.

"Where do you live? I want to see your home."

Swallowing the metaphorical cotton in my mouth, I answer, "Orchid Street. Lake Ridge Pointe of Orchid Street. Uh, it's just a flat. I live with my Aunt Xena." She doesn't say anything, so of course my brain goes, keep going. "She's awesome. Works as a pharmacist, and she loves it. Helping people. She's so kind. She went to medical school when she was only fifteen... I'm talking too much, aren't I?"

"No," Maxine answers, then laughs slightly, "yes. But it's okay. I think you're adorable. And so... I don't know. Bubbly. And a nerd, too. Who organises their notes in alphabetical order, Gracelynn?" I blush and mumble something that's unintelligible even to me. "So, how about family?" Maxine continues, and I feel my blood run cold. "Siblings?"

A hole in the ground swallowing me up sounds really good right about now. My mind is playing the sound of sirens over and over and over again, so I shake my head to get it out until what's left is a faint buzzing. I force myself to bite back a weird sob-like thing.

"When... I came out, uh - my family - uh, they didn't like it. I have one brother. Austen. The cutest thing ever." I can still remember his face and his darker brown hair. "Anyway, they didn't disown me or anything. They wanted me to go to conversion therapy. I chose to live with Aunt Xena instead." I sigh, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes. "They come by sometimes. I wish they didn't."

Maxine stares at me for a second, eyes half-lidded and tired. "I'm sorry." She turns and scoots closer to me. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Tell me about your family." She raises her eyebrows, and I turn around. "You're just so closed up about it. Sorry. I mean, you can forget it." She takes a while to mull over my request, it starts to get unnerving. "Seriously, never mind."

"No. It's fine. I mean, you told me about your dysfunctional family, so I guess I should too." She tips back, hands on the edge of her seat. "I have two brothers and a sister. One of my brothers is eleven. The other is fifteen. Kyle and Arken. The sister is Macklayla, also fifteen. M - A - C - K - Layla. She's on the cheerleading team. Blonde. Red lipstick all the time?" It does ring a bell. I vaguely remember making fun of her name and snobbishness with Eden.

She leans back and continues. "My mum is a horrible Christian. She's one of those people who have a horrible misconception of ethnicity, sexuality, and basically every other politcally controversial subject. My dad. He's one of those macho men guys. Hunting, fishing, wants a Jeep for some reason. Also judges everyone he sees. And always, always complaining about how I'm too "manly"."

"Wow," is all I say.

"Yeah." Maxine shrugs, seemingly unbothered. "That was emotionally draining. Christ."

I look out the window and almost faint. "It's dark!" I screech, and about half a dozen people turn to me and an echoing of shhh rings through the library. "Sorry," I add, turning back to Maxine, who's smirking amusedly.

"Is it past your bedtime, Sleeping Beauty?" I glare at her. "Sorry, okay. You're so feisty. Take me to your home."

I'm going to combust and my heart is going way faster than it should be. Rest in peace, Angel Gracelynn; she never got to be valedictorian, because of that bitch Jaxon Lincoln. Not to mention that her place is a thousand times more impressive than mine. It's a huge white mansion, and I know this because there is a mailbox up front that says GRIFES. I'm not a stalker, just a very in love idiot.

"Come on. I want to see it. I'm sure it's pink, inconceivably neat, and full of books." Then she smirks, slotting her book into her bag. "Or are you bringing someone home tonight? Sorry, you could've just said." I almost spit out my saliva, since I have nothing else to spit out.

It takes a moment to regain my voice. "No I'm not! Don't be crude!" I almost yell again, but I manage to soften my voice just in time. My cheeks begin heating up like a bagel in a microwave. "Right. Sorry. Come on, I'll take you." I jut out my elbow as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

We walk across the pavement in silence until Maxine tells me she usually goes the opposite way, and that she's never been to my part of the city before. As we pass the usual stores, shops, and abandoned cars, her expression stays indifferent and aloof, but I think she might be wistful. Just a little.

We keep on walking to Orchid Street, the apartment buildings towering over us. Walking into the lift, she runs her fingers over the glass mirrors and marbles, as if she's never seen such a thing before. We reach the floor, which I'm thankful for because she was starting to bounce her leg. She does that a lot: pace, bounce, drum her fingers. Maybe she has some subtype of Attention Deficit Disorder.

I knock on the door and hear Aunt Xena's familiar voice. She opens the door, and her eyebrows shoot up at the sight of Maxine. My face turns red again. "This is my Stud, Maxine Grifes. Like I told you; I have to teach her."

I haven't told her about Jaxon. Actually, I haven't told anyone about Jaxon. This is a private thing. Who's being blackmailed? Me. I know Eden would probably throw down with Jaxon if I told him, and he'd win (I know from experience), but Jaxon would probably release the video. Life sucks.

"Right," she drags it out, sending me a knowing smile, "well, I cooked up some risotto and apple crumble, so you two are free to eat that if you want. I'll be in my room. Oh, and don't be too loud. I'm calling one of my difficult customers, so you'll have to keep it down." She winks at me before pulling out her phone and shutting her room door behind her.

Maxine puts her hand on her hip and smirks, like she always does. "Don't be too loud? I guess you bring home girls after all."

Damn Aunt Xena.

"Shut up. She was just joking. Come on. Her apple crumble is really good." I draw a chair for her, and she raises an eyebrow before sitting down. Before I sit I take out two plates and two pairs of forks and spoons, scooping risotto onto them. "Do you have any allergies?" My hands make this weird and vague gesture, but Maxine seems to understand and shakes her head.

She picks up the spoon and scoops a bit of risotto into her mouth, chewing slowly as if expecting it to be bad.

She laughs, which surprises me. A bit of rice is tossed into my face when my hand jerks at the sound. When she eats some more, I smile into my spoon. We eat the rest of the dinner in silence, and she just nods when I ask if she wants vanilla ice cream with her crumble. It's delicious, and I haven't had it in a long time because apple prices have skyrocketed for no obvious reason.

"I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to see your room," Maxine comments, the dishes clashing as she drops them in the sink, walking over to and examining my bedroom door. It's nothing really, just a door with a sign that says 'Angel's Room: Do Not Enter Unless You Want To Be Castrated'. The threat doesn't bother her - of course it doesn't - and she turns the handle and opens the door.

The feeling is shaken back into my legs as I jump up to follow her into the room. It's the same as always, which is good. Aunt Xena could've let Eden in and he might've covered my room floor with pictures of Maxine or something.

Maxine looks around, touching the clay figurines I made, the books, the closet, and make-up drawer. "Like I said," she finally says, relishing in her success, "it's pink and... inconceivably neat. So you made these things yourself?" She points at the figures.

"Oh, yeah. It's clay. Some of that is resin, too. Recycling and stuff." I pick up a figure of a fish swimming in "water" that's actually made out of resin in an empty candy can. "I do it in my free time... it's fun." This is my cue to stop talking, but I'm me so of course I don't.

"That one's a shrine in Kyoto. This one was inspired by my trip to Canada. This one..." I point to a painting entirely made out of clay, a dark blue and light blue swirled sky overlooking a dark river and buildings with yellow lights. My best project. It took me a kilogram of clay, lots of time, and two printings of 'The Starry Night'. "It's a recreation of The Starry Night, as you can tell. It's, um, obviously not that good, but..." I scratch the back of my neck.

Maxine looks at the "painting", staring at the colours and clay. She reaches up and touches it, tracing the swirls and patterns. "It's really good." She lets her hand drop back to her side. "It's really good," she repeats, "I could never do anything like this. My... I'm not careful or patient enough." She flexes her fingers and sighs. "It's okay. I'm good at other stuff."

"Like what?" I ask her.

She looks surprised for a second. Her eyes widen slightly, and she raises her eyebrows (which she does a lot) like it's the first time anyone has ever asked her that. The first time anyone has ever asked her about something else other than academic, like someone was interested in her talents and hobbies.

Of course I'm interested, I think as she shrugs, I'm interested in all of you.

My heart skips a beat as I think of her, right now, in my bedroom, talking, like we're friends. And the faintest bit of hope that we could be more, even though it's unlikely.

"Basketball. Public speaking." She brushes back a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear and flopping back onto my bed. I'm glad that I changed them this morning, to the one with the pattern of the pink ocean (she's right; 90% of my room is pink), because before that it was the Hello Kitty ones. And boy, she would not let me forget that. "Football. And I know this is surprising... but I'm also pretty good at debate." She must find the face I make amusing, because she laughs. "I know. Weird, right?"

"Huh." I fiddle with my hairclip, sliding it back into my hair. She sits up on my bed and I lower myself next to her, my body pressed against hers. "People have a lot of hidden talents sometimes. Like... I hate it when people say I'm just a nerd. I'm really proud of my clay-work."

She looks down, but I elbow her and her eyes shoot back to me, which I enjoy far more than I should. "And you're not just a stupid kid, Maxine." Something in me saying her name makes her smirk soften. "You have talents that you should develop like anyone else should. Grades don't define you."

"You're right," she says, and there's a beat of silence, "I guess I have to go home now. Come on." She slips her jacket back on, which I didn't even notice she had taken off. We walk to the door, and Aunt Xena is still talking to her customer.

"Tell her thank you for the food, alright? Your aunt's cool and your parents suck. Night, nerd." She hesitates. I have no idea what over, but a flash of uncertainty passes over a face. In the end, some part of her seems to win. She leans down and presses her lips to my forehead, before walking out with her bag slung over her shoulder, shutting the door with a slam.

This has got to be the best day of my life.