Chapter Twelve
I wish I could say I’m totally nonchalant over the weekend, listening to my nineties singer-songwriters, playing with my calligraphy pens, and living my best life.
But, in truth, I can’t relax knowing Max will be here at the house.
I keep going over it in my head, and I can’t figure out a way for our possible D&D game to be successful.
In D&D, the players need to feel free to be silly and vulnerable and to make mistakes without being scared that they’ll be laughed at.
I need to have that flexibility. I was already psyching myself out about DMing even before we threw Max into the mix.
So, I’ve decided the game is off the table (somewhat literally) unless he can convince me that I can trust him. And he’s not up to that challenge.
I take my time coming downstairs after hearing Melanie and Max arrive. His mom’s high-pitched voice is very recognizable, but I’m not going to rush around my own house for him. It’s a good five minutes before I finally saunter down.
Max is standing in our living room, looking at the “marching band altar” he’d noticed last Sunday.
He’s wearing tight black jeans and a black Nirvana shirt that hangs on him perfectly.
His hair is wet and curling into waves that fall over his forehead and into his eyes.
Everything about him screams “drummer,” and unfortunately the whole look really works on me.
He glances at me. “I see you’ve decided to grace me with your presence. I’m honored.”
I open my mouth, then immediately change my mind. Nope. Not today. I don’t care how good this boy looks, I’m not dealing with his attitude. I turn back around and head for my room.
“Wait, hold on,” he calls. “You can’t go, we have stuff to talk about.”
“No, we don’t,” I retort. “The idea of us sitting around a table for hours every week, talking and joking and throwing out ideas is laughable. You can’t stand me, and I don’t want to open myself up to any more insults or put Nova and Li in the extremely awkward position of being our mediators. The discussion’s over.”
His jaw drops open. “You can’t just decide that.”
“I’m the DM and it’s decided.”
“Just because things aren’t working out perfectly for you doesn’t mean—”
“When do things work out perfectly for me?”
He gestures around the house. “Uh, always?”
“Max, don’t pretend like you know me or my life at all.
” I take a step closer and jab him in the chest with my index finger.
“You waltz back into town and into my house as if you know everything, and I’m over it.
How could you ever expect me to include you in this game when you can’t even talk to me like I’m a human being? ”
He wraps his hand around my finger and tugs slightly so it’s pressing harder into his chest. “Then let’s talk,” he whispers. “What do you want to know?”
My pulse leaps. “Everything.”
“You want to know everything?” His chest rises and falls. “Then why don’t you start by asking me something specific?”
This is a game. It has to be. Some sort of competition I don’t understand, because why else would he be watching me so intently now? Why else would he be touching me? I want to wrench away from him and call him names and leave him standing here alone, but somehow I think that would mean I’d lost.
And I don’t ever plan on losing to Max again.
I step closer, so that only a few inches separate us, and lift my chin defiantly. “When did we go from being best friends to this, Max? Why don’t you start with that. Because I was heartbroken when you moved away, and it seems like you’re heartbroken to be back.”
That does the trick. He jerks away from me and breaks eye contact. His jaw works back and forth, and for a second I think I’ve finally shut him up.
“I am,” he says quietly. “But not in the way you think.”
“Then enlighten me.”
His gaze shifts around the house suspiciously. “How soundproof is your basement?”
He makes a fair point. I’d hope that our parents are too engrossed in their game to eavesdrop on us, but I can’t guarantee it.
“Maybe we should go back outside.”
We walk in silence to the trampoline. He sits down in the middle, but I stay on the far edge so I can jump down as soon as he says something rude. He rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes and sighs deeply.
“You want to know everything, huh? Fine. What do you know about my parents?”
I shake my head. “That they’re separated. And that they played D&D with my parents until you had to move because of your dad’s new job.”
“That was a lie. We moved because my parents were fighting all the time. I guess Dad thought moving closer to his family might help, and he did get a job he really liked there. Once we moved, things got a little better. Mom and Dad both loved the new house, and everything was…stable. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that.” He blows out a breath, still keeping his gaze away from me.
“And then, all of a sudden last month, Mom announced she was separating from Dad, and I had to choose who I was going to live with. I had no idea it was coming—it felt like someone had punched me in the throat when she told me. I’ve never seen Dad that angry either. It was horrible.”
I look down at my Lilith Fair concert shirt rather than make eye contact. The weight of his words are heavy enough that I feel like I’m being pressed deeper into this dusty trampoline.
“Once we got here,” he continues, “I finally got up the courage to ask Mom what happened. Like, how had they gone from being okayish to being separated so quickly? And that’s when she told me that she’d gotten back in touch with your mom, and their conversations were what convinced her to leave.”
I lean back in shock. “I…My mom…What?”
My mind spins at the idea. Granted, I don’t know what was going on with his parents, and Mom does tend to get into everyone’s business, but this seems extreme even for her.
“Ever since, I can’t stop thinking about you and your mom and how happy your family has always been.
Just the same as you were years ago with your big Sunday game nights and parents who can drop everything to bring you a lunch or volunteer for the school or bend over backward to make sure you never need a thing.
I wish I had a life that was even a fraction like that.
” He shakes his head. “I know how close you are to your mom, Hazel. And the idea that she might have mentioned something—that you might have known my parents were separating before I knew—it’s haunted me.
” He sucks in a deep breath. “Tell me the truth. Did she say anything at all to you?”
I sit back in shock. Part of me wants to scream at him for all his baseless assumptions about my life and family. But the expression on his face…he looks utterly broken. He had his anger before, and now I can see that was his armor. Without it, there’s nothing left behind but misery.
“Max.” I lean forward and say the next words cautiously. “I didn’t know anything about your parents. I swear it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut and then nods, very slowly.
“My mom and I…we aren’t the way we used to be. And my life is far from perfect.”
“It seems pretty perfect to me,” he whispers, but there’s no heat or accusation to his words now.
“That’s only because you’re looking at my life from the outside.”
He tilts his head up to the sky, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Maybe I don’t want to be on the outside anymore.”
I stare at him for a second, my heart racing from his confession, then lie back on the trampoline. It’s dirty and hot from baking in the summer sun, but it’s still easier to look up at the clouds than at his expression. After a moment, he follows my lead and lies down next to me.
“I’m not saying I have a bad life,” I say quietly.
“I don’t. I have a really good life, I know that, and I’m grateful for it.
But my parents—Mom especially—they just have such big hopes for me.
And whatever happens, there’s always something more I should be working toward.
I’ve never been able to live up to their expectations.
So this year is it. It’s my last chance.
I need the guard to be the strongest it’s ever been, and I need to win the MVM award. ”
“You need to or they need you to?”
“I need to…or, I don’t know, maybe it’s both. But if you think Kelsey and I sit around with our parents every night singing songs and telling each other all our secrets and dreams, you’re sorely mistaken. Mostly I spend my time in my bedroom to get away from the pressure.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and wait for him to say something snarky. But he doesn’t. We just lie there in silence and watch the clouds pass by.
“This isn’t going to stop me from competing with you in band,” he says finally.
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“And the bet is still on. I have no interest in embarrassing myself trying to learn your choreography.”
“And I’m not cleaning the men’s restroom.”
There’s another beat of silence, and then Max clears his throat.
“But…I’m sorry. I was jealous and angry, and I took it out on you.” I can feel the moment he turns his face toward mine. “Does that count as telling you everything?”
I shouldn’t turn to meet his gaze. Our faces will be too close, and it’ll be awkward and weird.
But I do it anyway.
His dark hair is falling across his eyes, and his expression is contrite in a way I’ve never seen before.
Heat floods through me at his nearness. I know I can’t trust him—not after everything we’ve said and done to each other in the past few weeks.
But, at least in this moment, I can’t find it in myself to hate him either.
Not when I can almost see the boy I used to be half in love with. My skin flushes and I sit up quickly.
“You’re really gunning for this D&D game, huh?”
He chuckles and sits up next to me. “You know I’ve always wanted to play. I could never find anyone at my last school. Although I do have some stipulations.”
“I haven’t agreed to let you play yet. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Listen, let’s be real. You need me. You clearly don’t have a huge list of people lining up to join D&D, or you and Nova would already have a game going on. As it is, you only have Nova and Li, and that’s not enough for a very fun campaign.”
I screw up my face in defiance. Max may have a point, but I’m not going to let him know that.
“And if you think about it, this whole thing isn’t actually fair to me.
” He stands and starts bouncing on the balls of his feet.
I stand as well so I can easily scramble off this trampoline if needed.
“Right now the party will consist of your best friend, who I’m sure you’ve turned against me, and one of your color guard members, who clearly already hates me if her horror-filled screech on Friday is to be believed. ”
He starts jumping higher and I follow suit, not wanting to be left behind. “And could you blame Li? She had to wash her clothes three times to get the vinegar scent out.”
He has the audacity to laugh. “I mean, come on. That was a little funny, right? I chuckled the entire time I was filling those balloons.”
“It was not funny, and you are not helping your cause.”
“All I’m saying is that there needs to be some equality to the party. Some balance.”
“If you’re about to suggest Brody as a possible player, I will push you off this trampoline and ban you from the house.”
“I’d like to see you try.” He smiles in a cocky way, and I’m so tempted, but then he puts out his hands in defense. “No, not Brody. He doesn’t care about gaming. I was thinking about Felix Jackson.”
I hesitate and bring his face to mind. He’s the younger snare player I’ve seen hanging out with Max on a few occasions. He’s percussion, so that’s a big hit against him, but I don’t remember him being overtly aggressive or rude, unlike some of the other players.
“Isn’t he pretty quiet?”
Max nods. “Definitely. He’s a cool kid, no matter what you might assume, and I think he’d be interested in learning to play. Plus he’s struggling to find his place in band.”
My thoughts go to Li. I’d almost respect Max for looking out for the younger members of his section, but I’m still too nervous about this arrangement he’s proposing.
“So, you’re saying the group would be split—you and Felix and then Nova and Li.”
“I don’t think it’s a good sign if the DM is already envisioning the party being split down the middle. Haven’t you watched the livestream of Don’t Split the Party? If not, you need to remedy that.”
“Actually, I have. I’m sorry, it’s just hard to imagine everyone suddenly getting along.”
“But we aren’t ourselves when we’re at the table. We’re playing characters, right? So it shouldn’t be a problem.”
I take a deep breath and try to consider this from a neutral mindset. If the roles were reversed, I’d want a friend at the game table with me too. And if everyone is willing to lay down their weapons when they come to the table (and pick up fictional ones instead), then this could possibly work.
“When we’re playing, there won’t be any band politics or sarcastic comments or infighting,” I say, pointing at him. “We all have to make a commitment to the group and be loyal to the rest of the players. Are you going to be able to do that?”
He stops jumping suddenly, which makes his knees buckle. “I’m looking forward to it.” His voice sounds sincere. I still don’t know if I can trust him, but I guess we could give it one try and see how it goes.
“One session,” I say and hold up a single finger for emphasis. “And I reserve the right to cancel if it doesn’t go well.”
His face breaks into a huge goofy grin, and my chest tightens at the sight. I know that grin. I used to love that grin.
“Finally something we can agree on.”