1: Max the Pessimistic

Max remained oblivious to Jess's attempts at a friendship with him. As far as he was concerned, Juliana had gotten to Jess before anyone else, so he wrote her off. But one day after school, Sam and him were walking home because Luther wanted to maximize his time with Annie in the band room, and Jess took this opportunity to catch up with them. "Hey, Max! Mind if I join you and your friend?" She faced Sam. "What's your name?"

He told her, and Max had no real authority to say no. Sam said, "You just moved into the for-sale house, right?"

"The what?" she said.

"She doesn't understand you," Max said. "She wasn't here for that."

"On Ellesmere, right? Yellow house with the big tree in front?"

"That's it," she said. "I guess this town is small."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "I live right across from you."

"Wait, really? That's so cool. I haven't really gotten a chance to get to know the neighbors."

"Me neither," Sam said. "Hey, Max is coming over now if you want to join us."

"Yeah? What're you guys doing?"

Sam scratched the back of his head. "Probably nothing you would want to do."

Jess grinned. "Try me."

It started out with everyone wanting an afterschool snack, so Sam popped a frozen pizza into the oven, and by now, Luther had joined them. "All I've been eating is breakfast food," Luther said. "Pizza sounds great."

"Make it a breakfast pizza," Jess said.

Sam perked up. "We should make pancake pepperonis!"

Max and Luther exchanged looks with each other before Max grimaced and echoed him to make sure he heard correctly.

"I thought he could just combine them..."

Luther said, "I'm good," and Max said, "That literally sounds so stupid," and Jess said she liked the idea.

Sam, disheartened, quirked his mouth and said that he'd get them to try it one day, and when he did, they would regret not having it sooner.

"What exactly are pancake pepperonis?" Luther asked.

"Pancakes the size of pepperonis."

"Aren't those just mini pancakes?" Max said.

Sam was silent for a few seconds. "But pancake pepperonis sounds cooler."

"Tell you what, Sam," Jess said, "when these goons leave, we can make pancake pepperonis at my place. My parents are totally into fun food."

Sam and Jess never made pancake pepperonis, but Jess and Max did, and they hand-delivered them to Sam. Max wasn't quite sure how it happened since he never planned on talking to her, let alone cook the first time he went to her house.

A sweaty Max was leaving Sam's house when he saw Jess reading on her porch. She looked up, saw him, and called him over. They sat on the porch for a while, and she finally asked him why he avoided her when he met her. "It's nothing personal," he said. "It's just..." He didn't know how to describe it. He couldn't say they were in different worlds because 1) that was cheesy and 2) it wasn't necessarily true because she hadn't joined a world yet. Juliana had claimed her, and anyone Juliana claimed, he tried to avoid like the plague.

"Just what?" she said.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"It's okay, Max."

He didn't know what was okay‒not knowing, not sharing, not knowing how to put his feelings into words‒but he didn't ask.

"Listen, I'm on dinner duty tonight, and I'm thinking about making breakfast pizzas. You can help, if you want. No pressure if you have to leave."

"Sure. I just have to call my parents."

"Okay. Come inside when you're done!"

Jess left no instruction on how to get to the kitchen, so he sort of just wandered through the living room and dining room until he heard Jess humming to herself. There were ingredients all over the counter. Jess was whisking something in a bowl when she stopped and draped a pencil-printed apron over Max's head. "Want a job?" she asked. He nodded. "You're in charge of the pancake pepperonis. Think you can handle that?"

"Not this again."

"Is that a yes?"

"I'm only doing this because you'll probably mess them up, and your parents deserve a good meal."

"You don't even know my parents."

"Everyone deserves a good meal."

"You think so?" Jess said.

Max was suddenly unsure of his answer. It seemed like a no-brainer, but maybe Jess knew something he didn't. She was smarter than him. Everyone was.

Jess took that opportunity to rope him into volunteering at the food bank every Wednesday after school, which was fine because that meant he wouldn't have to try out for a sport. He'd go there every day if it kept his parents out of his hair.

Both Jess and Max knew that leaving the oven on when no one was home was a terrible idea, but they told themselves that they'd just be across the street. "It'll take five minutes tops," Jess said. "Ring doorbell. Sam opens door. Hand Sam bag. Make thirty-second small talk. Come back. Even if we're here, the oven's still going to be doing it's thing."

Just as predicted, nothing happened, but it still made Max somewhat paranoid. Growing up, his mom always told him to never leave the oven on to run an errand because "Disaster strikes in the most unexpected places."

Sam was confused when Jess and Max showed up. He didn't understand why they were together, but he was even more confused when they held up a plateful of pepperoni pancakes. "We're making a proper breakfast pizza this time," Jess said. "It's baking right now, but you're welcome to come over when it's ready."

Sam just cackled, mostly at Max. He accepted the plate and closed the door. Max could hear his laughter for a solid three seconds after that.

Max wasn't sure if he was invited to stay for dinner. He assumed so because 1) he helped cook and 2) Sam was invited. Asking Jess would've been awkward for him, so he just waited. If he didn't get the vibe that she was trying to kick him out, then he'd stay. If he did, he'd excuse himself and hope that dinner was still waiting for him at home.

Jess's parents were exactly what Max expected them to be. Not that he thought about it, but he could see immediately was Jess was the way she was. So unafraid. While his parents would've stuck with a nice handshake, the Hales were big, bumbling huggers. "Max, these are my moms, Calla and Harper."

Max stuck his hand out. "Max."

One of her moms elbowed the other and said, "Jess must be Min." They both laughed their way out of the living room and into the kitchen. Jess just rolled her eyes. "She thinks she's so funny."

"Which one was that?" Max asked.

"Momma Harper. She's a real stand-up."

☁

Momma Calla sliced her pizza into so many pieces, you'd think she was dissecting it. "What's the verdict?" Jess asked.

"It's undoubtedly interesting." She pointed to a pancake pepperoni on Momma Harper's plate. "But what is that?"

"Take it away, Max!" Jess said.

What Max Wanted to Say: "A stupid topping."

What Max Should've Said: "Pancake pepperonis, a delightful combination of brunch and linner."

What Max Really Said: "Mini pancakes."

He hated her. "Say the real name."

Max narrowed his eyes at Jess and mumbled, "Pancake pepperonis."

Momma Calla clapped. "How creative! Did you come up with this, Maxabillion?"

He shook his head. Jess told her about Sam, and both Momma Calla and Momma Harper wanted to meet him. "This boy sounds like a moonful of lightbulb," Momma Calla said, which Momma Harper responded with, "Betcha he's extra bright. 120 watts!"

When Max got home later that night, he thought about how normal his family was, and he wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

☁

Over the course of several weeks, Max saw an improvement in his math skills and grade. "You're doing a really nice job, Max," Kate said. "I'm pleased with your progress, but the real test is passing your test on Friday. Do you think you're ready?"'

"I feel ready, but I don't know. I'm not a very good test taker."

"Bullshit," she said, a smile still resting on her face.

He was taken aback by her foul language. Not that it was foul perse, but he never thought he'd hear her swear. "What?"

"You don't have a problem with tests. We've taken several practice tests and you're confident in your abilities. You were just using that as an excuse."

He felt bad. She wasn't using a demanding or accusing tone, in fact it was rather sweet, but he'd never been caught pretending to have a fear of test-taking. "I−" he stammered.

"It's okay. I won't tell."

And then she winked him. She winked at him. That night, as he sat in his chair in the corner, he thought about the wink. He debated between it being harmless and flirty. The rational side of him thought it was harmless, only saying that because she knew something no one else did. The side that thought she was nice and pretty thought she wanted him to make a move. He came up with two scenarios.

Scenario 1

Max: Hey, I think I like you.

Kate: You think? Well, I know that I like you. Oh, and I hate Juliana. She's so fake. Also, my favorite bird is the seagull. In my opinion, they're totally unappreciated."

But Max knew that would never happen. It didn't even sound like Kate. So this was something more plausible.

Scenario 2

Max: I think I like you.

Kate: Whoa! What? I can't tutor you anymore, Max. That's just too weird for me.

He wondered why Quinn didn't go for Kate Machiavelli. She had a pretty face and straight A's. If that wasn't his type, then Max had no idea what type of girls his brother was into. Max slowly learned that girls like Kate were easy to like, but he also knew that he had no chance with her. I mean, he was a failing sophomore with dandruff and she was a honor student senior with her entire life ahead of her. If she ever found out that he had the slightest crush on her, he would be mortified. Hell, she'd be mortified for him. That's how nice she was.

And then it occurred to Max that Kate probably had a boyfriend, and whoever he was, he could probably beat Max to a pulp–he might as well call himself Maxenade and start selling himself for five cents a cup, not that anyone would buy it.

So out of his fear of being beat up and his deeply rooted fear of rejection, he decided not to do anything about it, which was probably one of the smartest decisions he'd ever made.

☁

Sam had an ally in convincing Max to try out for basketball, and Jess was much more persistent than Sam could ever be. "Max, you'll at least get on JV," she said. "You're not bad. Besides, you like playing basketball."

"But Sam won't even be on JV this year, so I won't have anybody" he said.

"You'll meet people," Sam said. "You'll be part of the team. It's fun."

"But no one hates you, and if they did, you could just use the race card," Max said.

Sam shook his head, and Jess said, "Max!"

"I'm just saying. And by the way, Jess, you know nothing about basketball."

"I take offense to that," she said. 'I know more than you think."

Max gave them reason after reason, and after a while, he felt like he was having another family meeting with his parents. But he started considering it after Jess promised to attend every single one of his basketball games, which was dedication because no one but family members of the players went to JV games. He would know. As bad as it sounded, he never went to any of Sam's games last year.

They spent the next two weeks playing basketball. When it started to snow, Sam pulled some strings and got them into the high school gym to practice. At first it was just Sam, Luther, and Max, but soon enough, they got Jess playing. It was Sam and Jess against Luther and Max. Even though Sam and Jess won nine out of ten games, Max was getting good enough to make the time.

"Luther, why don't you try out?" Jess asked.

"He's too in love with music," Sam said.

"When he's not chasing Annie, he's practicing," Max said. They all knew it to be true.

"Basketball's just fun for me," Luther said. "But it's going to suck when I'll be the worst one." He laughed. "Except for you, of course." He nodded at Jess.

"Careful what you say. I could whoop your butt."

"I'd like to see that, baby Jess. You're only winning because you have Sam."

Jess never backed down from a challenge and said, "Let's switch teammates then."

When the game was over, Jess knew to keep her mouth shut while Luther gloated. Sam called shotgun in Luther's car. Max whispered to Jess on the way home. "Sorry. We'll beat them next time."

Jess smiled at him. "I know."

☁

This was Max's big day, and everyone knew about it. He normally had cereal and milk for breakfast, maybe an orange wedge or two if there was time, so when he woke up to the smell of sausage on the griddle and pancakes on a platter, he just knew today wasn't the day to be a screw up. Everyone wanted him to make the team, maybe even more than him, but if he was being honest with himself, he'd be disappointed if he didn't. Max rarely exerted effort, but he couldn't even count the number of hours he'd spent in Sam's driveway‒sometimes without Sam‒bouncing the wretched ball. His body had grown used to chugging bottles of Gatorade and listening to Luther trash talk and seeing Jess on her front porch.

Max knew his parents were supportive, but when Lucy wished him good luck, he couldn't stop the confusion from spreading all over his face, which made Lucy ask,"What's with the face, stupid?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Yeah, well, I hope you get on the team for both of our sakes."

"What does this have to do with you?"

"Uh, everything! I can finally play with Lilybeth without you bothering us."

"Figures," he muttered, shoveling more sausage into his mouth.

Mr. Bishop walked into the kitchen and ruffled Max's uncombed hair before joining him at the table. "Can't wait for you to come home with the good news."

"I don't know if I'm going to make it, Dad."

"Sure you are. You're my son, aren't you? You're going to do just great. Isn't this exciting, Cheryl?"

"Sure is!" Mrs. Bishop squeezed her husband's shoulders. "Remember your varsity try-out?"

It seemed to Max that his mom took every chance to reminisce about her high school years. Max's parents were high-school sweethearts, and though she hadn't played a sport herself, she showed up to every one of Mr. Bishop's basketball games.

"How could I forget? I was a nervous wreck when Coach came out with that clipboard."

Mrs. Bishop scoffed. "Oh, please. You knew you were getting on the team. You practiced all summer! Of course, you couldn't do it without your good luck charm."

Mr. Bishop turned his head and pecked Mrs. Bishop's cheek. "Couldn't do anything without you, darlin'."

Max wondered if he'd met his good luck charm yet. Kate was sort of his good luck charm in trig, but he didn't know if counted because it wasn't technically luck. He briefly wondered if Jess was his good luck charm, but then thought scoffed to himself. If anything, she was Sam's good luck charm. She helped Sam win all of the basketball games, even when she wasn't on his side, sided with him for almost everything. What used to be Max and Luther v. Sam was now the Jess and Sam show.

"I know it's supposed to be all about you today," Lucy said, "but hurry up! We're going to be late, and I have perfect attendance!"

Mrs. Bishop looked at the oven clock and pulled her husband out of his chair. "Oh, look at the time! Lucy's right. You two should be on your way to school! Mark, you can take them to school, can't you? My legs are feeling a little shaky."

"You should sit down, hon..."

Max bolted to his bedroom before he saw his parents kiss, leaving his sticky plate for his jittery-legged mother to wash. Max easily slung his red backpack over the shoulder and found Lucy pacing impatiently in the doorway. All the pockets on her floral purple backpack were properly zipped, her sticker-clad plastic water bottle was filled to the brim with tap water, and her shoelaces were newly tied. She was just like Quinn.

Max stuffed his feet into his tennis shoes, which his mother warned him against because it would ruin the backs of his shoe. Lucy usually looked disgusted, but she was too anxious to think about how Max failed to meet the Bishop Expectation yet again.

"Did you bring something to play in?" Mr. Bishop asked.

Max knew he'd forgotten something. "Shoot."

"Oh, come on!" Lucy threw her hands up.

"Rookie mistake," Mr. Bishop called as Max jogged up the stairs to rifle through his laundry basket.

Max's family gave him another round of luck before he left the car. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in and thought, Just seven more hours. Then three more. Then I'll face a little rejection, and that'll be it. Good going, Max. Way to blow it again.

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