New Girl Part 21

"What is wrong with you, man?" he exploded.

Max raised his eyebrows and then walked out of the closet. I didn't move.

"What's wrong with me?"

Johnny threw a hand up at me. "Her? Really? After what you had-don't you think it's a little messed up to just be...doing that?"

Something recoiled in my core. Johnny had always been nice to me. Why would he say that?

Dana shot him a look that he ignored.

Max lifted his chin a little and looked at Johnny. "You wanna talk to me about that? Are you sure?"

"Oh, I'm sure."

Max pushed him hard. Johnny stumbled back.

"Outside." Max's voice rose on the word.

Johnny went out the door, and Max followed. Then so did everyone else. A few people went to the shut curtains, and others went outside. I pushed through them into the night air.

I felt like I should say something. Like I could somehow get them to stop.

"-after everything with Becca, you really think you can talk to me about this?" Max yelled at Johnny.

"That's exactly my point, Max! You're supposed to be in love with Becca, remember?"

"And where is she, Johnny? She's not here."

"That makes it okay? You're just doing whatever you want, and you don't care anymore about her feelings? She loved you, Max!" I could hear the ire rising in Johnny's voice.

"That's bulls.h.i.t and you know it!"

"It's because of you she's gone, you know. Because of you!"

Max, who'd had his back turned to Johnny, turned toward him and pushed him again. This time with enough force to knock him to the sand. Johnny recovered quickly.

"Don't mess with me, Max, I got a lot of s.h.i.t to take out on someone, it doesn't matter to me if it's you or not."

Max gave a laugh and shook his head. "Yeah? You got s.h.i.t to take out on me? Do it."

They looked at each other, rain still coming down. It started to pour harder, but neither of them seemed to notice. Johnny balled his fists and hesitated. He didn't want to hit Max. I could tell.

But Max was done hesitating. With a solid punch to the jaw he hit Johnny, who stumbled backward but caught himself. He swung at Max and made loud contact. Max didn't miss a beat, grabbing at Johnny and throwing him onto the ground. Johnny pulled on Max's shirt, ripping it so it hung wet and loose. Max yanked it off, revealing a sweating, tight body. His muscles rippled as he held Johnny down and punched him hard in the face.

Cam ran forward and pulled Max off Johnny, shouting at them to stop. The rain got heavier. Max spit blood onto the sand. Dana, who had been crouched on the ground over Johnny, ran to Max.

She slapped him across the face. He didn't move.

"You," she said, "are so messed up. And this?" She pulled out the necklace. "This is proof that she's coming back. And you know what that means."

"I think that's a bit optimistic."

Fury seemed to run down her spine as she said, "When you say things like that, Max-" she took a deep breath "-you really make me think you know more than you pretend to."

He smiled, and I saw his teeth were covered in blood. "Yeah, Dana? You want to talk about that?"

She breathed quickly and then went back to Johnny, who was now standing and looking furiously at Max.

Max looked at me and then walked up the stairs without saying another word.

I felt like my world had fallen in. I'd been a fool to think that any part of this place was mine.

Things got worse over the next month. Not only were the days some of the shortest I'd seen, but the cold was getting colder by every minute. It hadn't snowed. It had only rained icy, gray droplets. The building was cold everywhere. I was constantly in a sweatshirt, and if I'd had my way, I'd be in gloves, boots and a hat 24/7. But that's just simply not the way to look attractive or to live down your reputation as a pariah.

Susan, who had been polite enough to ignore me at the last party I went to, was now glaring at me and laughing every time she saw me in the hallways or in cla.s.s. Like she knew something I didn't. Which I was sure she did.

Every time I heard whispers of "she," I was sure they were either talking about Becca or about me. Sometimes I was so sure, I felt like I should say something. But what could I say?

I didn't know what everyone's problem with me was. I had merely gotten accepted to the school. It wasn't my fault that I was replacing-or not replacing-the girl who had vacated my spot. Plus, so many people seemed so sure she'd be back. And if so, then what was the big deal?

Ever since the party, rumors and whispers had begun swarming through the hallways like locusts.

Becca is pregnant.

Becca will be back soon.

That new girl is a psycho and is trying to take Becca's place.

Becca's dead. And maybe Max killed her.

I couldn't even wrap my mind around any of the suggestions. If Max loved her, he wouldn't have killed her. And of course he didn't, because that's just...crazy.

But then...he didn't seem to be having that much trouble moving on. He didn't seem overly troubled. He wasn't pouting or weeping in dark corners. Then again, he really didn't seem the type who would, even if his heart was broken. Also...it's not like he wanted to be with me like he'd been with her.

What surprised me was where my mind spent most of its time. I didn't spend all of my time feeling embarra.s.sed or put upon because everyone talked about me. I didn't wonder so much about where Becca was or when and if she'd return. All I could do was think of Max, and our seven minutes.

The rumors about us had begun to circulate, too. Questions of whether or not we were together and what we had done in that supply closet were on everyone's minds. Meanwhile, they still bandied around the idea that Johnny and I were hooking up on the side. It was a complicated web of rumors, and I couldn't figure out why anyone cared.

Max and I didn't discuss what had happened, or what everyone thought of us. We talked in cla.s.s and acknowledged each other in the hallways. But that was about it, until early December. I was in the painting studio, finishing up a still life that I hated, when Max walked in.

I paused my computer at a Zero 7 chorus and said, "Hey."

"Hey. You doing the still life, too?"

"Yeah, this one's pretty hard. I thought it'd be easier, but it's just not."

We had to paint a still life lit by candles instead of by angled lighting. It made the contrasts stronger, but the tones had to be just right.

Max looked at my painting. "Pfft."

"What?"

He pointed at it. "I don't think you have any room to say that this is hard for you."

I laughed, not knowing what to say.

"Sorry that everyone is talking about-" he pointed vaguely between himself and me "-you know."

"Oh, it's fine. Are you-is it bothering you?"

He shook his head. "No."

A shiver went down my body, and suddenly I wasn't as tired as I had been.

"So, really, you're doing all right? Everyone talking isn't driving you crazy?"

"It's okay, really. It's only another six months, anyway, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's not that long. I don't know why...I don't know why I'm so worried about you."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I want you to be okay. And it...really p.i.s.ses me off whenever I hear anyone talking about you or comparing you to her."

That feeling snuck up my spine again. The one that made me feel inferior to Her.

He went on. "I don't think it's fair that they do that. There's nothing wrong with you. Nothing wrong with you being here or...or anything."

I took a breath. "Thank you."

"I don't think she's coming back."

I wanted to ask him if it was because he thought she was dead. But instead I just asked, "Why not?"

"I just don't. I don't want anything to have happened to her. We got into a fight that night, so everyone thinks I-" He had been staring at a place on the floor, but now he looked at me. "You know...I didn't do anything to her, right?"

"Right. Of course." I didn't know why I believed him, but I did. Maybe that made me the dumb girl in the horror movie who willingly takes the hand of her killer, but I did.

"And I don't consider myself to be her 'property.'"

"I should hope not." I looked at the floor and then summoned some courage. "But if you don't, then why do you suddenly care so much about not letting anyone know we've been hooking up? Sometimes you're all w.i.l.l.y-nilly with it, and then you get paranoid. I don't get it. You don't seem like the type of guy who concerns himself too much with how other people see him."

"I can't just be with you. I can't just get with the next girl that comes along after my girlfriend dies."

I raised my eyebrows. "The next girl who comes along?"

"I didn't-"

"No, you know what? I'm sorry, but I can't keep being this anonymous replacement for her. Because I'm not. I'm just not."

"I don't think you're a replacement for her. It's just difficult. Everyone either thinks she's lurking around a corner waiting to come back, or they think she's off having my kid, or they think she's dead and that maybe I killed her." His voice had gotten louder. "It's kind of hard to just be with you now. Not to mention the fact that she kind of ruined my desire to be with anyone right now. I'm sorry. It's just not going to happen."

In the pit of my chest, something had been growing stronger and stronger. And the more time that pa.s.sed at Manderley Academy, the more it reared its head and breathed hot fire. It ran through me, keeping me from feeling sad and lonely-which could have easily happened-and instead drove me to get quietly more and more sure of myself.

After my conversation with Max, I packed up my oil paints and left. My painting was fine. It was just me who was nitpicking at the details in it. I walked up to Blake's room.

"Let's start drinking."

These were the first words out of my mouth when I saw her. I hadn't been sure about going to the last party of the semester, but now I definitely was going. She laughed at first in surprise, but then narrowed her eyes and asked if I was okay.

"I'm great, I just want to have fun. Let's go do our makeup!"

Blake grabbed two Gatorades and a water bottle full of clear whatever, and we went into my room. Dana sat on her bed, filling the air with gloom.

"Want a shot?" I asked her. Blake smiled when Dana glared at me. I rolled my eyes and walked into the bathroom. We set up my laptop and turned on iTunes. I had no new music of course, since I was not allowed to connect to the internet.

This place was practically primitive.

We each downed the liquor in the water bottle, and half an hour later we were dizzy and laughing hysterically about I-don't-even-know-what.

"Oh, my G.o.d, that's hilarious," said Blake, who was sitting in the empty tub. "So tell me. Did you guys ever...you know...."

I bit my lower lip and took another swig. I nodded.

"No way, really? How was he? I know Becca said he had a big-"

We both started laughing again. I noticed that the door to my bedroom was not completely closed, so I crawled over and shut it.

"Yeah, it's definitely, um...fun. He's good. You know. Awesome."

Blake snorted and then knocked the soap into her lap. She put it back, still laughing. The door in my room slammed shut, shaking the door in the bathroom. We ignored it.

"Well, what exactly happened tonight?"

I told her that Max and I had talked and he'd been a d.i.c.k, and gave me a speech about how it was never going to happen.

"I don't even know where it came from, really. We were talking...she came up...and then all of a sudden he was telling me he couldn't give me what he gave her."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "It's weird. He acts way different around you than he ever did around her. Like...he seeks you out. He wants to talk to you. He laughs around you. I swear I'm not sure I ever saw him smile before this year."

I shrugged. "Maybe he goes for that whole painful relationship thing. Maybe it's some kind of m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic thing."

She sneered, and handed me the bottle. "Way less hot than hair-pulling."

We laughed again, and then both squealed when our newly decided favorite song came on.

Blake glanced at her watch. "It's almost eleven, let's start getting ready."