~~~

[.17.12.21.]

Because Theodora Wallace was a silent fire — able to sneak up on you and burn your lungs — Max cautioned quick. Not because of the fact they were about to engulf in a topic most suited to be left alone, but by the crushing reality he didn't know her. Before the incident, Theodora Wallace was just one of the many scholars attending St. Katherine Academy. A shadow flickering in and out of existence, a pawn on his chessboard that never moved. Still, foreign as she may be, he knew she was not a nobody. An observer. Yes, but not dust on the floor.

"How are you?" She asked first. Looking to the courtyard, a few scholars drifted off and on the green grass. She looked behind him, his trio of friends became distant specks. Even if they were down the long hall, she could still recognize them instantly. Where she stood, the colonnades were still and suppressed by the hot breezes. A classroom door a few steps from Max sat opened, Mr. Roy was writing his next lessons on the chalkboard. His markings tuned out their conversation and she for once, was relieved.

"I just finished classes. I'm good. You, Teddy?" He said, leading the way to wherever, smiling. It was a quick smile full of courtesy and tainted with perfection. Made for her approval, and Teddy gladly did not accept it. She wanted deep pushes, not side shuffles.

"I'm cool." She was not. The sound of their school shoes tapered with the beat of her heart as they continued onward through the large campus hitting corners and halls that mazed her brain until Maxwell swayed his true intentions out of his mouth.

"That's nice. What do you want, Teddy?"

Teddy couldn't decide if she liked Max more being blunt and coarse or patient and self-mannered. One thing she was certain about though, was that she liked him standing his ground. Tamed and domesticated as he may be, she knew he still had it in him.

Making a sharp left they ventured down a flight of stone stairs that spiraled the hot heat into cement coolness. Teddy went first and then Max—he had held is hand out for her. Passing him, she noted his gentle manner before replying. "Some leisure." There was no hesitation in Teddy's words as she answered him, the heat between them was boiling as they went deeper into the old school's basement floor. The spiral staircase seemed to go on forever and even though, he was only three steps behind her, their body heat would not leave each other—in all honesty, it was not the feeling of hate. It was the feeling of desperation. "Leisure would do well."

"Leisure, Teddy? You were the one with him that night, you tell me what you saw, what he said and how he ended up doing what he di—"

"I can barely tell you what he had on!" She replied. It hadn't come off as a yell but it was no longer a regular toned conversation and they were no longer walking down the staircase. Teddy blocked him. "For God sake man up, Max." She turned around and closed the gap between him with two steps upward. She had been a little furious. "Don't start that bullshit."

"What else do you want me to say?"

"How about getting to know me and my side of the story instead of accusing me for something I didn't do, it's a lot easier than going off what everyone said!" She remarked low and stern.

And she was right.

"I appreciate your concern bu—"

"But what? Shoving facts in your face you're not ready to believe in isn't comforting? It's called the truth, sometimes it hurts." Her tone broader, the space between them more narrow but even if then, Teddy couldn't help but acknowledge his perspective, sometimes feeding the hungry foxes phony smiles was enough to praise them but they both knew that wasn't the point. "Are we clear?" She asked, wanting to make sure he understood. Max even knew this familiar type of feeling but he wanted to see how she would display it instead of just agreeing with her.

He wanted to somehow see how destructively humble he could resonate the feeling off of her. He knew she would not move until he spoke, this is why he waited a second too late to respond. "Clear?" He questioned shifting back and forth between her angered eyes and soft lips.

"Yes."

"Crystal, Theodora. Crystal." He breathed but instead of moving after his reply Teddy saw something bizarre happen in his eyes. She saw the subtle changes he tried so hard to conceal.

He was still Maxwell Oliver Richard but he was something more. Something heavy. Something complex. He was the vibrant one. The Max that only came out once, maybe twice a year if you ever felt like pissing him off. He was a ticking time bomb ready to explode without even realising it. This baffled Teddy. She knew how to get under his skin; slide right through his bloodstream stopping at his heart. And, at the right moment, tear him down. Break him apart. All she had to do was pull him by his hair. Push him over. Rough him up. Get him to his very lowest. Oh, she wanted to see him fall. She wanted to see him fall fast and hard.

But, she felt dreadful and selfish and guilty so she looked away.

The continuous thought someone would hear their conversation was not a priority until it was too late. Their conversation had led them to an unfamiliar part of the building she hadn't recognized. They were somewhere between the tenth and eleventh hall, deserted from the rest of the campus and staff. There was no sight of the sun, just dull and hazy gray. It was a quiet part of the academy that acquired only four huge classrooms. "Where are we?" She asked, it came off light and weary.

"They store instruments in these rooms." He said coming back to his poised stage, fixing the cracks in his self-image was mandatory.

Turning a golden knob on one of the four classrooms Teddy entered. Dust mites flared in the air. The absence of the sun hitting the side of the building made the color blue present in between the shadows. Laying on the floor pieces of flutes, violins and clarinet sat in boxes. The closets held oboes and guitars that leaned on each other.

Picking up a persevered violin, Teddy plucked a single C-chord that echoed smoothly through the silk air. Sitting down she placed it on her lap before staring hard at him. It was a stare that belittled Max, he felt she was breaking him down, replacing the strong facade with his weak reality.

Collecting his thoughts it took several minutes for Max to start up a conversation with Teddy, coming over he bent down in front of her. Her eyebrows still arched and her mouth firmly shut, she was waiting for his petty apology but that never happened. He was about to ease her up. "The boardwalk will close once the wind picks up, not that soon from now, I'll take you there around the end of the year," He said and then abruptly spoke. "But just for now, how about a drive?"

~~~

Two hours north of St. Katherine Academy James was no longer prepped in his prestigious uniform. There was no sign of his expensive blazer, slacks or leather shoes anywhere in the enclosed garage. He had left them home, they were not clothes made for the job he worked tirelessly for. Turning the radio on, a light tune began to play dimly. Sliding back under the Chevy pick-up truck he thought hard about his childhood, something he did to waste time fixing broken vehicles.

He hadn't had one.

At least not in the way his peers did. When he thought of his childhood, the only thing he could think of was the sleepless hours saving up bills he and his father used to pay for their small apartment or the smile on his eight year old face when he finally bought his father a gift on his birthday—it was a keychain with the words Hawaii cursively written on it, a place his father wanted to go still, these were not proper memories to remember.

He wanted memories of family dinners, toy trains, trips with the grandparents. Not work-study, narrow eyes fixing cars and swollen hands. Hell, even sweet kisses from a motherly figure ringed in his ears.

In comparison to Max or Raymond he was an insignificant rupture in their pattern, a friendship that never was supposed to happen. Sure, he stood grand like others, talked like others, read and learnt the same lessons they did as well, but he carried himself differently. James had been hardwired to work—builted with the tolerance level of a hundred. Not to withhold smiles and aimless gestures. Being on his P's and Q's at school was the actions of pure instinct.

Born into a mixed family was what made James well James, his father taught him the only way to be successful in life was to please Corporate America. Leaning towards his white side wasn't his choice, but if he wanted to be successful he had to put on it. Molding himself to be perfect never was ideal to him but it was a fantasy that played hazily in his mind, like a dream he only ever cared about when at the academy.

Education was everything.

Sighing he tightened the brakes of the Chevy thinking about how far he came. The small good parts he admired approached when looking at scholars like André and Teddy and Davis, people who were proud to be in their skin and hadn't known it. Their eyes were never fixated on color but beneath it. It never worried them, they chimed along freely because their problems never centered on appearance. One day, he was going to be like that.

The only thing he knew for sure though, was that pride and independence tasted better than pursuing fake desires.

~~~

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