Chapter Nine
“Hazel, you should come downstairs,” Dad calls from the hallway on Sunday afternoon.
I turn off my Fiona Apple playlist and lift my head from the notebook where I’m jotting down ideas on possible villains for the (nonexistent) campaign Nova keeps asking me to run.
Okay, fine, maybe I’m doing less “brainstorming” and more writing the word wraith with my cool calligraphy pens, but it still counts.
It might be a dorky pastime, but I love writing up notes in calligraphy.
Everything looks more beautiful, even my boring D&D ideas.
“Can it wait?” I call.
“No, I don’t think it can.” I hear footsteps outside my door, then there’s a quick knock and Dad pokes his head in. “Max and Melanie are downstairs. She came out of the blue for our D&D game.”
A rush of adrenaline flies through me. “Seriously?”
I look at the time on my phone and realize it’s already six in the evening—the usual time their Sunday game starts. I’d heard the front door opening and closing several times, my clue that their other members had arrived, but I hadn’t really been paying attention.
“It’s a surprise for us too,” Dad says. “Aunt Mary already picked up Kelsey for the evening, but you should come down to say hi to Melanie before we head to the basement for the game.”
“What about Max? What’s he going to do?”
Dad gives me a confused expression. “Well, I was assuming he’d hang out with you until we finish our session tonight, just like before.”
“You’re expecting me to babysit him?”
“I wouldn’t call it babysitting when he’s taller than me now. What’s the big deal? You guys used to do this all the time.”
“Yeah and that was before he started hating me.”
Dad snorts. “I’m sure Max doesn’t hate you. Come on, I don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”
“Fine, I’ll be down in a second.”
I wait until the door closes to rub my hands roughly down my face.
Max is here? Melanie must have dragged him by the ear or threatened him with bodily harm.
This is going to be so awkward. I look down at myself.
I’m wearing a T-shirt and overall jean shorts.
Not exactly my most exciting outfit, but at least I’m having a good hair day today.
I took the time to use a diffuser this morning so that it’s lying in soft curls down my back.
Not that I care what he thinks, but it is gratifying given that he’s only seen me exhausted and sweaty at band camp.
When I walk down the stairs, I find them both standing with my parents by the front door.
I can’t help it when my attention locks onto Max.
While he might be slightly taller than Dad, it’s hard to tell since his shoulders are slumped forward from staring so intently at his feet.
His hands are shoved in the pockets of his black jeans and he’s wearing an AC/DC shirt today—the kind that’s trying to look vintage but you know came from Target.
After watching him act larger than life at band camp for the last two weeks, it’s clear that Max is totally and completely miserable here.
I should be insulted, but for some reason I find the sight absurdly humorous.
This tall, cocky guy reduced to a withered figure just from the idea of being in my presence. What a joke.
I snort-laugh before I can stop myself. My laugh has always been louder than I’d like, and even this small snort makes the entire group turn my way. I put a hand over my mouth, but Max scowls and I know that he knows I’m laughing at him. I can’t drum up any guilt about it.
“Hazel!” Melanie calls and steps toward me.
I haven’t seen Max’s mom in years, but she’s instantly recognizable, even if the time away has taken a toll on her.
She’s curvy and a little shorter than me with wavy dark hair and dimples.
She and Max look a bit alike if I squint.
He got his height from his dad, but he has his mom’s hair and face.
Not that I’ve seen the dimples since he doesn’t smile around me.
Her expression is joyful, and she pulls me into a hug as soon as I’m down the steps. “You look terrific!” she exclaims into my hair. She pulls back and takes a look up and down. “It’s like someone’s stretched you—you’re so tall!”
“Well, not exactly. I’m only five four.”
She laughs. “Yes, I know I’m short. It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too. I didn’t realize you were joining my parents’ game again.”
She shuffles her feet. “I’ve been…caught up with things since moving back, but your mom has been such a support, and I knew coming over would be good for me.” She glances back at Max. “For both of us.”
It takes everything in me not to snort-laugh in her face again. Melanie is very sweet, but I’m positive her son has very different feelings.
“So, Max, how are you liking Glen Vale?” Dad asks. “Is it a big change from your last band?”
“Not really. We were really serious at Oak Grove and it’s pretty similar here too. Though we didn’t have fun breaks during band camp there.”
“No water balloons?” I ask.
His eyes cut from me to both of our moms, like he’s waiting to be chewed out about dousing me in vinegar.
I thought about telling my parents when I got home that day, but instead I threw my clothes in the washer and left it at that.
It wasn’t worth the hassle. That would only lead to my mom calling Melanie, then more drama and more fighting.
“I’m so glad you’re both in band together,” Melanie says and turns to me. “Do you also play D&D like your parents?”
“Uh—”
“Actually, Hazel and her friend have been talking about starting a campaign for forever now,” Mom jumps in. “I keep pushing her to, but so far no luck.”
“I’ve been busy. And I can’t run a game with just me and Nova.”
“You’re looking for members?” Melanie asks eagerly and takes Max by the arm. “Max would love to join. He’s been looking for a group.”
He cringes. “I’m not looking. It’s fine, Mom.” He wiggles away from her.
There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence and then Dad slaps both his thighs.
“Welp, it’s about time for us to get our game started.
I’m sure Dale and Connie are already getting restless down there, and Glenn should be here soon.
You two will be okay?” Dad looks between me and Max.
His expression is unsure, and I’m tempted to cling to him like a toddler and refuse to be left behind.
“Why don’t you show Max around?” Mom suggests. “It’s been so long.”
I swallow hard. “Okay. Sounds good.”
The adults shuffle off downstairs and I’m left standing in a tight hallway with a guy who clearly wants to be anywhere but here.
“Couldn’t talk her out of it, huh?” I ask.
A shadow of a smile lightens his expression for a brief second. “She was insistent.”
“Well, I’m not. You’re welcome to watch TV in the living room. I’ll be in my room.” I turn back to the stairs.
“Who’s that on your shirt?”
I pause and look down. Today I’m wearing my Boys for Pele shirt from one of my favorite albums.
I glance back at him. “It’s Tori Amos.”
“Who?”
I roll my eyes. “Only one of the best female singer-songwriters to come out of the nineties. She writes brilliant haunting songs and never gets the credit she deserves.”
“I didn’t know you were into nineties music.”
“And I didn’t know you were an entitled jerk, but people change. A lot, in some cases.”
I make it one step before his hand is on my elbow. It’s only a whisper of a touch, but it’s enough to send a wave of electricity down my arm. A years-long crush is harder to shake than I imagined.
“Do you always have to make things so hard?”
His voice is low and edged with annoyance, but there’s a familiarity to it that brings old memories flooding back.
How many times had he stood at the foot of these stairs, waiting impatiently for me to come down so we could play board games or watch movies together?
How often had he growled under his breath when I beat him at a game or pointed out a rule he’d forgotten?
It’s so surreal to be standing here with him now, hating him, after all our history.
I take a deep breath and twist to face him fully. “Do you always have to make things so irritating?”
We glare at each other. It’s a battle of wills and I won’t be the one to blink or back down.
Except we’re standing much too close for this.
It’s hard to keep my hatred at the forefront of my mind when I’m reminded of how beautiful his eyes are.
Finally, he drops his gaze to the floor and takes a step back.
“Just…show me around, okay? I don’t want to disappoint Mom.”
The reminder of Melanie makes me reconsider. She’s always been such a sweet soul and so kind to me. I don’t want to disappoint her either.
“Fine.” I roll back my shoulders. “For your mom.”
He trails after me as I walk from room to room, saying very little. Honestly, the house hasn’t changed much since he moved away, so there isn’t much to show.
“Your parents’ altar to marching band has gotten an update,” he says when we walk through the living room.
I frown and turn to see him looking at my Most Valuable Member plaque.
“It’s not an altar.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “I haven’t been around for a while, but I remember your parents. If there’s one thing they worship, it’s marching band.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. “I won it freshman year,” I say, pointing to the plaque. “To say my parents were excited would be an understatement.”
“I can imagine.” He studies it. “Are you hoping for a repeat win?”
“Doesn’t everybody want to win everything?”
I know it’s selfish to want to win again my senior year since I’ve already been awarded it once.
There are other people who are deserving, but I care so much about band, and it would be such an amazing way to end my time with the Marching Knights.
Plus my parents would be ecstatic if I could pull it off the same way Mom did when she was a Glen Vale member.