𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 / 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥.

how did nele not know about this tree before? perfectly curved trunk to accommodate a persons back, and located in a quiet enough place to get away with a nap. but there’d be no time for slumber today, for the sound of a fellow students voice bellows from the grass beside her. nele only manages to catch the end of their sentence, “sorry, i’m up in the clouds right now. what did you say?”

Treading  endlessly  and  for  what  contrasted  what  forever  could’ve  felt  like  but  knowing  his  destination,  the  campus  was  quiet,  too  quiet.  His  AirPods,  which  he  of  course  wore  like  they  were  diamond  earrings,  weren’t  playing  a  thing.  When  he  finally  reached  his  destination,  he  was  astounded,  to  say  the  least.  Someone,  a  girl  from  what  it  looked  like,  in  his  quiet  space,  and  honestly  the  perfect  hiding  spot  during  the  warmer  days  on  campus.  “Nothing,”  he  replied  quickly,  his  glaring  altered  quickly.  “Real  neat  spot  huh?”  He  questioned,  very  rhetorically  at  that,  she  was  obviously  in  a  state  of  pure  bliss.  “How’d  you  find  it?”

The interruption was enough to tear Ella’s attention away from her friend. Her eyes narrowed, an amused smile ghosting over her lips. “Been a while, Max.” She’d been to enough of the BBC’s weekend parties to recognize him anywhere. And even if she hadn’t, she’d rallied for him on the swim team just as much as she would have for the rest of her teammates. “Understatement. Remember when we fucking annihilated them in the freestyle relay?” The memory widened her smile. It seemed like ages ago. In some ways it was - a vestige of her first year at the school. Time had changed him since then. Whether it was time or sliding up the ranks of the BBC, Ella didn’t know, but he had the attitude of an overconfident peacock, which simultaneously amused and annoyed her, and a penchant for troublemaking. And if Ella ever was anything, it was a trouble maker.

Ella could pretend to be disappointed that Max didn’t know who Sappho was, but in all honesty, Ella enjoyed any opportunity she had to talk. Especially when it involved literature. “She’s a greek poetess from the island of Lesbos. She’s basically a literary icon and wrote a bunch of amazing love poems. Mostly about other women. She’s basically why the term ‘lesbian,’” she bent her fingers in air quotes, “exists. Most of her poems were destroyed, so there’s only a few fragments left.” It was tragic, really.

Ella nearly beamed at the compliment, but his flattery was quickly doused by the next phrase that came rolling out of his mouth. “I didn’t perk my-” she shook her head, “whatever. Not that it matters.” She pushed her hair off her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

Ella frowned at the casserole before shaking her head. She snickered, turning so she faced him fully. She picked up the apple juice and took a sip. “Damn Perry. I didn’t know the president of the BBC could be such a wuss.” She shrugged, letting the challenge hang in the silence as she picked up his fork and punched it through the casserole and put it in her mouth. Ella’s face pinched, but she swallowed it. “Definitely rank as hell.”

“Not  long  enough, Ella.”  A  feigned  sigh  escaping  his  mouth  rather  dramatically.  It  was  too  soon  to  start  something,  it  was  impulsive,  to  blurt  out  the  most  rude  thing  that  can  come  to  mind.  “I’m  joking,  partially.”  He  reassured,  his  dangerously  cold  blue  eye  winking  up  at  her  quickly.  “Annihilated,  understatement,  more  like,  mopped  the  fucking  floor  with  their  tears.”  He  chuckled,  times  were  a  lot  more  simple  back  then,  and  you  could  not  convince  Max  that  his  relay  team  or  himself  weren’t  qualified  for  the  Olympics.

A  surprise  to,  no  one  really,  Max’s  attentiveness  dispersed  expeditiously  when  “lesbos”  happened  to  spoken  of.  “I’m  sure  you  learned  a  lot  English  Lit,  and  just  gave  me  the  perfect  answer  to  a  question  that  might  be  on  a  quiz  I  didn’t  study  for,  but  you  had  me  at  Island  of  Lesbos,  to  be  completely  honest.”  He  admitted,  proudly  too.  “But,  the  chick  was  basically  a  symbol  of  like,  what?  Love  between  women?  I  thank  her  for  that,”  he  nodded  as  he  continued  to  switch  between  the  same  three  applications  on  his  phone  mindlessly.

“You  did,  its  alright,  I  like  to  show  a  little  chest  too,  its  all  good  over  here.”  Tugging  at  the  zipper  of  his  form-fitting  black  Nike  hoodie,  revealing  a  broad  chest,  and  a  single  silver  chain.  “We’re  practically  twins.”

“Because everybody loves being compared to a slimy pest people kill slowly with salt."His attempts at sarcasm often got undermined by the fact he seemed like the kind of person that would apologise if you poured soup on his lap. .He just couldn’t commit to having a sarcastic tone.His need to always have people on side cancelled it out.It came across more like ‘Yes this is supposed to be sarcastic but only if it’s ok with you’."Dude ,that’s super fucking gross.There’s no way I’d be into that.But message received loud and clear."Max was everything he hated about Johnnie on steroids.But crass jokes at his expense were easier to brush off when he did it.Maybe because he was the president of the BBC and didn’t look like a greasy swamp rat.

"Disney lied to us.Keira Knightley being badass was the real reason that movie slapped."Apparently Keira Knightley sword fighting and delivering one liners in a ball was the hill he was willing to die on.But there was something cathartic and entertaining about seeing a woman known for boring period pieces aimed at old people and a cool soccer movie disguised as a chick flick kicking ass."But you would know how awesome pirate Keira Knightley and a CGI octopus man are if you gave the movie a chance.”,Jonah sing-songed unaware that he was fighting a losing battle.Sword fighting Keira Knightley was the hill he was willing to die on but he would immediately drop the subject if he was asked. 

“No it doesn’t.It’s just a fact of life that Lola Bunny was hot."He didn’t know how to feel about being able to easily bullshit being into an anthropomorphic rabbit.It probably said a lot about who he was as a person and revealed too much about a fucked up part of his brain.But he didn’t want to investigate that.He was more focused on pulling off a strange lie.He scrunched up his face."What’s that supposed to mean?Fuck no."Max needed to find a new hobby that wasn’t pressing his buttons. 

Jonah flipped Max off back in return.It was fucked up that the senior members of the BBC got to ask whatever gross personal questions they wanted but could also avoid reasonable questions that needed to be asked.”Because impressing you and your friends is the most important thing in my life.”,he was trying to be a snarky bitch but that wasn’t far from the truth."And hey I don’t-”,he stopped himself mid sentence.He didn’t know much but he knew that acting defensive only raised suspicion and would probably cause Max to make some fucked up comment.“It’s whatever ,forget it.”,Jonah backtracked with a forced sense of cool.

Jonah shrugged.Of course it was easy , he would have jumped off a moving train if Max told him to.”I can barely do a book report when it’s a part of my grade.”It was a truthful complaint.He was passing English but it was truly a miracle and must of been down to God working in mysterious ways.He didn’t give a shit about themes or the writer’s motivation for certain word choices.He had a literal brain and could only take what happened in media at face value.”Making somebody write a book report to show you have power over them is a majorly sick and twisted move.”He tried to sound judgemental.”They might just kill the suspicious bastards and spare the people that were nice to them.”,he commented with a smile.He was pretty sure that was a trope in horror movies.He thought he remembered the weird mask guy sparing people the last time he was forced to watch Halloween.But he was smoking a bunch of pot at the time so his memory was hazy. 

“What can I say ,I’m always here to help out with your weird kinks.”,he drawled.He was thankful that had his back to him because while he rolled his eyes while delivering his lame joke there was also a red tint to his cheeks. 

“Wow I didn’t expect you to be such a gentleman.”,Jonah weekly fired back stepping into Max’s room.The place looked eerily like an IKEA show room.”So where do you want me to dump this ,your grand highness?”,he asked ,while tapping the side of the laundry basket.

“Now  you  get  the  bigger  picture,  just  grow  a  backbone  and  it’ll  work  wonders  for  you.”

And  he  was  still  beating  the  dead  horse  that  was  that  terrible  pirate  movie  franchise,  his  expression  growing  dull  and  lifeless,  in  contrast  to  his  mind  too.  Jonah’s  words  weren’t  perceived  in  the  all  Max  heard  was  gibberish.  “Are  you  done  now?  Like,  seriously,  because  you  cannot  take  a  hint  man,  I  could  care  less  about  Depp,  and  his  pirate  movies  that  went  on  for  far  too  long.”

“Dude,  if  you’re  into  talking  animals  just  say  that,  I  mean,  I’m  gonna  judge  you  regardless,  but  just  say  that,”  a  simple  statement  really  no  matter  how  fucked  up  it  truly  was,  and  a  definite  kinkshame.  “So,  do  you  like,  search  up  Lola  Bunny  in  the  the  PornHub  search  tabs  or  what?”  He  quizzed,  getting  on  the  very  last  nerve  of  anyone  was  something  Max  took  pride  in.

Dangerously  blue  eyes  widened  as  a  result  from  Jonah’s  comment.  “Man,”  he  sighed,  a  chuckle  following  him  soon  after,  “you’ve  got  to  start  saying  ‘no  homo’  after  a  few  of  your  sentences,”  he  concluded,  like  he  just  didn’t  state  that  asserting  dominance  over  the  pledge  was  a  hard  on.

“You  can  set  them  on  my  desk  chair,  I  was  gonna  have  you  fold  them  and  put  them  up  by  color,  but  seeing  my  speedos  or  underwear  might  turn  you  on,”  he  said  placing  his  phone  on  the  wireless  charging  station  that  also  charged  his  Apple  Watch  and  AirPods,  it  was  a  sleek  black  design  and  went  swimmingly  with  the  rest  of  his  room..  “So,  why  exactly  did  you  pledge?”  He  questioned,  straightforward  to,  to  be  exact.  “I  never  got  to  ask  you,  and  you  look  like  you’ve  got  a  reasonable  moral  compass.”

“So. Plot twist. He stood me up. Like, just completely didn’t show.” Ella dropped her purse on the table in Broadripple’s dining hall. It was the only one she’d brought to the Academy with her, the only one nice enough to be deemed worthy of going out. But instead of a promised Friday night escape to one of the local restaurants just out of town, Ella was left waiting at the gates for a ride that never showed up. If she was being honest with herself, the first of many red flags had arisen when Brent kept trying to slide their texts into the realm of sexts. And optimism was always an excuse she fell back on when she knew she wanted something unrealistic. “Just so you know, the guys from Somerville High are lame. I swear, this guy didn’t even know Sappho was an actual person.” She definitely wasn’t bitter about it. She totally didn’t care. Even though she’d wasted an hour trying to recreate a make-up tutorial and slaving over an outfit that looked effortlessly cute. An hour that she could have spent on something meaningful. Like practicing lines or reviewing Griffin’s latest edits for Broadripple Uncensored.

Instead, she’d spent her open afternoon rifling through drawers, switching out her earrings, and trying on nearly every article of clothing in her wardrobe. Gwen would have a mouthful to say about the pile mounted on Ella’s bed when she got back to the room, but Ella considered that an issue to suss out later.

She looked over the food on her classmate’s plate. Ella frowned. “Okay, that tuna casserole looks expired.” Ella cracked a smile. “Does it taste as sad as it looks?” 

AirPods  were  the  new  thing  it  seemed,  and  every  since  Max  got  his  pair,  they’ve  basically  turned  into  diamond  earrings  to  him,  they  rarely  ever  left  his  ears.  But  he  removed  them  long  enough,  and  just  in  the  nick  of  time  to  hear  a  girl  in  distress,  or  so  he  thought,  it  was  nothing  short  of  the  Bat  Signal  to  him.

“Good  to  know,  their  entire  swim  program  can  suck  a  dick,”  he  retaliated,  not  sharing  very  fond  memories  of  them  in  his  earlier  days  at  Broadripple.  “And  who  the  fuck  is  Sappho?”  He  added,  she  did  say  it  as  if  he  was  supposed  to  know  who  they  were.  He  halted  any  further  responses  as  he  actually  lifted  his  head  up  from  his  phone,  nodding  in  approval,  because  that’s  what  every  girl  wants  from  Max  Perry.  “You  look  good,”  he  mused,  genuinely  too.  “Can’t  believe  you  perked  your  cookies  all  the  way  up  for  some  guy  like,  three  towns  over.  He  must  look  like  me.”

His  attention  turned  to  the  plate  of  the  sad  excuse  for  a  meal,   and  frowned  as  well.  “I  don’t  know,  you  wanna  give  it  a  try?”  He  said  taking  the  apple  juice  of  the  tray  and  sliding  it  towards  her.  “I’d  be  nothing  short  of  suicidal  putting  that  in  my  body.”

There was possibly nothing in the world more repulsive than being called ‘babe’ in a condescending manner by Max Perry, so if she could withstand that without projectile vomiting onto the tiles beneath them, she felt confident about dealing with anything else he had to say to her that afternoon. Shit. He was right. She had been so excited about being invited to that dumb party, she’d spent at least an hour checking every angle in the mirror to make sure she didn’t look totally repulsive in her bikini. Not that she was going to let him know that, “-everybody makes mistakes, Max, even you,” like being born, for example, “- I think my BBC party days are over, so I guess I’ll have to find another way to make my tragic life worth living,” she spoke dryly, distracting herself with her laundry.

“Okay, okay, okay- I get it, you have no shame, message loud and clear,” she waved a hand dismissively in his direction. God knows how far he was willing to go to make sure she was totally and utterly repulsed by every word that left his lips, “Mission accomplished, my skin is officially crawling,” she assured him. She sighed softly and averted her gaze, balling her fist and rubbing gently at her left eye, overcompensating to demonstrate that she was not pervertedly gawking at his ripped body. “I could just go on your Instagram, I’m sure it’s basically a visual anthology of every time you’ve ever taken your shirt off for more than half a minute,” she reasoned, not that she’d ever looked it up before, of course…

Whoa. Bingo. She’d hit a sore spot, evidently and she wasn’t even sure if she’d meant to. Interesting. “What do you think I was thinking?” she asked, prodding as she raised an eyebrow, “That it’s actually possible that your timely departure was more than a mere coincidence and that you would actually sell your buddies out for some reason?” she was poking the bear now and she knew it but sometimes, she just couldn’t help herself. The small, microscopic and fleeting sense of leverage was like a drug. “If I was to believe that you wouldn’t do that, I’d have to find a reason and that reason would have to suggest that you had any noble qualities about you at all and why would I think that?” she questioned him, curious to know what he thought. What possible reasons could he provide to defend his personality? What qualities did he think he possessed that would make her believe he wouldn’t do something totally shitty like that?

“Aw,  babe...  don’t  talk  like  that,”  he  begged.  “Look,  I’m   sorry,”  not  at  all, “but  a  BBC  party  is  like  a  Hallmark  card  you  know?  We  care,  not  a lot,  but  just  enough  to  give  you  the  very  best.”  Comparing  the  two  things  that  were  not  a  single  correlation   to  one  another  was  a  bust,  blackout  drunk  nights,  and  trashing  any  space  they  inhabited  just  happened  to  be  Max’s  definition  of  giving  the  very  best.

“Exactly,  there’s  no  shame  in  jacking  off  anyway,  that  sin  is  a  total  win  in  my  book,”  rhyme  truly  intended,  “plus,  something  tells  me  you’re  not  exactly  the  religiously  devout  kinda  chick,  right?  Babe.”  No  girls  really  rolled  their  eyes  in  pure  disgust,  or  displayed  lingering  disdain  when  Max  called  them  babe  quite  like  Casey  Roberts,  and  that  was  definitely  her  new  nickname.   Daphne  or  Velma  wouldn’t  suffice. “For  someone  so  disgusted  at  me  you  sure  talk  about  my  body  a  lot,  Jesus...  just  say  the  word  babe,  nobody  has  to  know,  the  laundry  can  totally  wait  too.”

All  he  could  do  was  stare,  a  healthy  mix  of  blankly  and  coldly,  for  the  seemingly  the  first  time  in   his  life  he  didn’t  have  a  witty  comeback,  and  he  wasn’t  gonna  give  her  the  satisfaction,  even  though  she  clearly  already  got  it.  “Alright  then,  so  you  just  so  happen  to  be  so  fascinated,  what’s  my  motive?  What  do  I  possibly  have  to  gain  by  cutting  off  like,  the  only  group  of  (my)  dumb asses  that  mildly  tolerate  me?”  He  questioned,  stepping  closely  until  he  was  towering  above  her.  “I  am  thee  biggest  dick  in  the  state  of  fucking  Massachusetts,  but  I’d  throw  you,  your  brother,  a  pledge,  or  just  about  anyone  under  the  bus  before  I  do  to  one  of  them.”  He  explained.  “I  never  claimed  I  had  noble  qualities  whatsoever,  when  it  comes  to  me  at  least,  judge  a  book  by  its  cover.”

Charlie spent a lot of Bible study biding his time until the Nighmore children realized they’d won the numbers game and attacked, so the Children of the Corn comparison was apt. He figured being gutted by a scythe was overkill as far as punishments went, but at least it was cinematic.

“Kat’s not a stick in the mud, dog,” Charlie corrected. “She popped molly and told me she wanted to fuck me.” He made a motion with his hand, to demonstrate that these were concrete defenses against Max’s judgment. Perhaps also to demonstrate that Damian was not the ‘Mr.’ to Kat’s ‘Mrs.’. At least not yet. Right?

“Y’all are way too obsessed with chicks you’re never gonna get,” Charlie said when Maria was brought up again. What were his bro’s obsessions with bagging on Kat and getting hard over Maria? Was that some sort of club bylaw he’d missed? “Maria’s chastity belt is double locked. The only action you’re gonna get from her is an hour-long lecture about feminism and if that’s your kink, you might as well drop the BBC and become pres of the Women of Broadripple.” 

He dropped his head back against the washing machine, looking up at Max. “Seriously, dude, what’s your game plan there?”

“I  know,  it  was  sort  of  like,  my  mouth  moving  faster  than  my  brain,  or  something  like  that,”  he  attempted  to  explain.  “Did  you  give  her  some?  You’re  like,  a  one  man  cartel,  white  El  Chapo  if  anything,  and  I  can’t  believe  I  forgot.”

He  couldn’t  help  but  scoff  and  chuckle  at  the  comments  that  followed,   did  he  not  know  who  he  was?  Well,  he  obviously  did,  the  thought  of  someone  other  than  himself  being  right  didn’t  sit  well  with  Max,  at  all.  Literally  a  pill  he  couldn’t  swallow,  the  only  pill  he  couldn’t  swallow.

“Why  so  negative  man?  I’ve  met  some  tough  chicks  in  my  day  here,  look  where  the  fuck  we’re  at.”  Spreading  his  arms  out  in  hopes  he’d  get  the  bigger  picture.  Not  some  old  laundry  room,  but  an  old  laundry  room  in  a  religiously  devout  catholic  school  with  girls  who’s  last  thought  is  putting  out  for  a  guy  like  Max. “You’ve  got  a  point  though,  but  I  am  totally  ignoring  it  just  so  you  know.”  He  stated  simply,  Charlie  was  without  a  doubt  the  voice  of  reason,  but  in  true  Max  fashion,  he  ignored  it.

“Uh,”  he  scrunched  up  his  nose,  his  eyebrows,  and  looked  away  in  the  distance,  feigning  deep  thoughts  as  he  sat  down  against  the  washing  machine  copying  Charlie’s  posture.  “I’ve  got  not  a  single  clue,”  he  admitted. “When  do  I  ever  have  a  plan?  Goin’  in  guns  blazing  is  more  my  speed.”

“It’s called Broadripple Unsolved,” she protested, though as soon as the words left her mouth she realized that it actually just made it sound a whole lot lamer. Fuck. “-and we’re not wannabe anything, we leave that up to you guys and your off-price frat house- you’re like the Marshall’s of college douchebags. You know you’re graduating in less than a year right. You can just wait until you’re in an actual frat to be predatory and offensive? Then you guys get matching polo shirts and everything- or do you already have those?”  

“I don’t have enough hands for that…” she was trying so, so hard not to imagine how many jizz stains existed in Max’s closet but he’d invited the image and now she couldn’t get it out of her head. As soon as he mentioned wandering eyes her gaze launched was launched to the ceiling with a tip of her chin as if to prove that she had totally never ever checked him out and she hadn’t even noticed even one of his four billion abs, not one. “Okay- I looked once but I was like- shocked, I was shocked,” she insisted, returning her gaze to his face now, defiantly. “You guys are the only people in school that treat nudity like a human right,” and Poppy R. and Andrea P. perhaps but they were basically gender-bent BBC boys anyway.

“Yeah, we did, actually. You know what? Turns out that when you play the Chainsmokers on repeat for several hours straight less than a mile away from where all of the staff sleep- you’re kinda setting yourself up to be gatecrashed by a teacher or twelve. Wasn’t a ghost at all, just poor planning,” she explained. Then she realized something. “Which…you must have known the whole time cos you didn’t get caught…” she was suspicious now, “What’s up with that? Were you the one that snitched?” she asked curiously. She could see it. He was a snake in the grass. A slimy, two-faced, totally buff, snake in the grass. 

“A monster under your bed?” God, what an asshole. What a stupid, handsome asshole. “Are you sure it’s not Sebastian Sergeant- oh wait, he wouldn’t be able to fit. Maybe it’s another one of your knuckle-dragging buddies- is that a possibility?” 

"Right,”  he  chuckled,  a  long  winded  sigh  following  soon  after.  As  if  the  corny  nod  to  Buzzfeed  was  going  to  make  it  sound  any  cooler.  Some  people  just  made  it  way  too  easy  for  Max.  “Say  what  you  want  babe,  you  still  drag  your  ass  out  of  that  dorm  and  to  any  party  with  our  names  attached,  in  your  skimpiest  bikini, because  at  the  end  of  the  day,  we  all  know  its  the  highlight  of  your  miserable  week.”  He  explained,  wanting  her,  or  anyone  else  for  that  matter  to  protest  differently.

“You  can  find  the  time,  just  a  few  socks  and  lingering  face towels,  sometimes  I  need  like,  one  of  those  beach  towels  you  know?  Bigger  canvas  and  all  that,  I  swear  its  like  a  sprinkler  on  the  right  nights,”  ew.  An  ode  to  her  predatory  and  offensive  comment  earlier.  “And,  is  it  not?  I  mean,  the  way  you’re  counting  my  abs  I  thought  you’d  agree,  if  you  want  me  to  strike  a  pose  so  you  can  take  a  picture  be  my  guest,  it’ll  last  way  longer,” he  asserted.  The  world  and  everything  in  it  revolved  around  him,  and  he  refused  to  believe  otherwise.

“Obviously  it  was  poor  fucking  planning,  contrary  to  popular  belief  none  of  my  boys,  and  I  mean  my  boys,  are  actually  that  stupid  enough,  I’m  not  apologizing  for  The  Chainsmokers  though,  who  doesn’t  love  Halsey?”  He  expressed.  In  a  perfect  world,  well,  his  perfect  world,  they  all  would’ve  bailed  when  they  seen  Max  jump  ship,  as  they  liked  to  call  it.  It  wasn’t  his  fault  nobody  used   their  last  brain  cells  and  saved  their  own  ass  and  left  with  him.  How  could  they  get  mad  at  him?  Community  service?  Yuck.  “Look,  Nancy  Drew  I  know  what  you’re  getting  at,  kill  that  thought,  now.”  His  finger  pointing  in  her  direction  clothing  some  of  the  space  between  them,  God  was  he  tired  of  all  the  accusations  left  and  right,  no  snitching  was  involved  at  all.  Although  it  may  be  the  hardest  thing  to  believe,  if  it  really  came  down  to  it,  Max  Perry  was  no  snitch. 

“Not  a  possibility,”  he  shrugged  off  seamlessly  as  if  it  didn’t  bother  him  when  it  really  did.  “They’re  too  busy  sucking  each others  dicks  and  bitching  about  how  I  left  early,”  way  to  sound  not  bothered  at  all.  “I  think  its  The  Boogeyman,  I  really  insist,  I  just  can’t  sleep  at  night,  or  maybe  an  alien,  and  you  know  what,  between  me  and  you,  I  heard  someone  seen  Big Foot  in  the  woods  last  weekend.”  He  really  got  off  on  these  jokes. “You  meddling  kids  should  get  to  the  bottom  of  it.  Where  the  fuck  is  the  Mystery  Machine?”

A lot had changed since freshman year; students had become older, wiser, taller, they’d grown into their oversized uniforms and their voices had become deeper. They’d learned things about the world and about God and about each other that would prepare them for life after school, in the real world. Some things, however, had not changed. The old buildings were still made of worn brick, the breeze that passed through the cloisters on school day mornings still had an icy bite and boys like Maximillian Perry were still total assholes.

“Yeah- right,” he didn’t really have any clue what Max was talking about. Was dunking people in the pool and ruining girls’ hair and possibly their nights in the process supposed to be fun? For guys like this? Yeah, probably. Not for guys like Tomi, however, and he maintained a certain level of pride about that. Not that he’d ever dare say it aloud in front of a BBC boy, however, let alone their president. 

He nodded his head to confirm Max’s suspicion, though he wasn’t sure revealing himself to the other male was such a good thing. “We were in freshman English together- I sat in front of you I think,” he assured him, “Next to Damian Fitzgerald,” was this ringing any bells? Probably not, “Tomas Lozano, I’m in Melleray,” he reminded him, though it wasn’t as if he’d made a particularly bold impression on anybody during his first year at Broadripple. “I just moved back from Japan,” that was cool, wasn’t it? Surely a year abroad would earn him some popularity points if absolutely nothing else about him did.

Tough crowd,  did  Max  come  across  another  guy  that  lacked  a  sense  of  humor?  His  reply  set  him  back  a  tone,  but  alas  putting  on  his  big  boy  pants  for  the  first  time,  in  well,  forever,  he  ignored  it  however  and  continued. 

“Dude,”  he  mused,  as  it  had  finally  dawned  on  him,  like  he  had  solved  a  mystery  he  spent  his  whole  life  searching  for.  “No  way  man,  you  were  a  fucking  twig,  like...  you  could’ve  dodged  raindrops.  Short,  scrawny  arms,  puberty  smacked  the  hell  outta  you  man.”  

He  maintained  a  fixed  gaze,  he  was  in  complete  awe  to  say  the  least,  it  showed  how  fast  time  goes  by.  Max  was  in  the  early  stages  of  becoming  the  insufferable  narcissistic  asshole  when  he’d  met  Tomi. 

“Japan?”  This  kid  did  it  all  to  say  the  least,  “cool,”  he  stated  simply  with  a  nod  of  his  head. “You’re  not  going  to  find  some  way  to  bring  that  up  in  like  every  conversation  though  are  you?”  He  inquired,  just  for  reassurance  so  he’d  know  whether to  ignore  him  the  next  time  they  encountered  one  another,  pleasant  conversations  with  Max  were  rare,  nor  did  they  last  any  long. “So,  what  brought  you  back  to  the  states?  Here  of  all  places.”

Returning to campus had turned out to be far more nerve-wracking than Tomi had anticipated. When he’d left Broadripple to live in Japan with his parents for a year and half, he’d hardly had any friends, he’d hardly spent any time outside of his dorm room or without headphones blasting music into his ears and he’d never felt like he was really a part of the rich tapestry of Broadripple life.

Now, he was slightly older, slightly more mature. He was a little taller (but not much), he’d discovered working out and had stacked on a ton of weight in muscle and he’d even discovered that putting deodorant on was a necessity, rather than a preference and that showering at least once a day actually felt pretty good. It wasn’t that he didn’t like spending time by himself or that he didn’t play computer games anymore, he did, it was just that he played them a whole lot less and had started to value face-to-face human interaction a whole lot more. Japan had been a real eye-opener for the teenager and he wanted to continue on the path he had started paving there by making new friends at Broadripple and making the best of his high school years before they were over.

“Hey,” he greeted another student in the common room with a smile, tugging at the strap of his backpack. He didn’t know if the other student remembered him or even cared to learn that he’d attended the school during freshman year and part of sophomore year too but either way, he was going to treat them like a pal. Confidence. He reminded himself. “So, I guess pool parties are off the table for the foreseeable future, huh?” he joked lightly, making use of recent events to get in tune with the rest of the student body.

Scrolling  endlessly  on  Instagram’s  explore  page  for  what  seemed  like  hours  on  end  was  put  at  an  abrupt  halt  when  Max  had  heard  a  voice,  a  voice  that  was  greeting  someone,  it  surely  couldn’t  have  been  him,   right?  People  just  don’t  greet  Max  Perry,  not  kindly  at  least.  This  had  to  be  a  student  that  was  living  under  a  rock,  new  to  the  scene,  genuinely  nice,  or  all  of  the  above.

“Whats... up.”  He  replied  unsure  and  somewhat  cautiously,  his  trust  issues  were  showing.  He  looked  at  him,  then  back  at  his  phone,  then  back  at  the  boy  again  quickly  this  time  as  if  he’d  recognized  him.  But  he  didn’t  change  his  relaxed  posture  on  the  couch  one  bit.  His  back  slouched  into  the  cushions,  and  his  legs  spread  wide. 

“Definitely,  I  didn’t  even  get  to  dunk  anyone’s  head  under  water  or  throw  some  chick  in  that  didn’t  want  to  get  her  hair  wet.  That  jawn  was  a  total  bust,  but  I  can’t  complain  as  far  as  the  staff  is  concerned,  I’m  an  innocent  man.”  He  explained,  Max  surprisingly  didn’t  utilize  his  usual  “I  told  you  so,”  approach  to  other  BBC  boys  when  talking  about  the  party,  it  was  obviously  inevitable  that  someone  was  gonna  find  them,  that’s  why  he  dipped  off  so  early.  The  sisters,  teachers,  and  basically  all  the  staff  alike  were  shocked  not  to  see  Max  in  all  his  glory  at  the  scene  of  the  crime.

“Do  I  know  you  though?  You  look,  familiar,  too fucking  familiar.”

Max Perry. The Godfather of the Broadripple Boy’s Club and the epitome of just about everything Casey loathed about the popular boys, including how unfairly attractive they were. “Surprised you even noticed I was there,” she admitted, it truly wasn’t her scene but she’d been invited by Johnnie and since he’d orchestrated the whole thing and was pals with the BBC, she’d figured she had some semblance of immunity with the bullies, at least for a little while. Max’s greeting suggested otherwise, however. Fuckwad. How creative.

“Thrift shop,” she corrected, “I get to sort questionably soiled second-hand goods all afternoon and come back to campus smelling like mothballs- which is not my usual scent, by the way, in case there’s any confusion,” she assured him. That was precisely the reason she was dumping her clothes for the day into the laundry, she couldn’t bare the smell. Unlike, Max, however, she’d already taken them off and had put them in her laundry bag instead of stripping down in front of the laundry drop-off point. “Is it like- a condition of the club that you guys have to be shirtless for a specific percentage of your time?” she wasn’t complaining per se it was just kind of annoying how jacked these guys were, though she assumed it was mostly due to steroids or something like that, “Just asking- is it like thirty percent? Forty? It can’t be higher than that surely- and does it change depending on the season?” 

Of  course  he  was  egotistical,  vain,  and  rarely,  if  ever  paid  attention  to  what  anybody  else  had  going  on  unless  he  was  involved,  but  he  still  knew  who  he  was  surrounded  by,  most  of  the  time. “Come  on,  you’re  part  of  Broadripple’s  wannabe  Scooby  Gang,  with  the  kid  who’s  obsessed  with  his  grandma  and  a  few  other  people  crammed  into  the  mystery  machine,”  trying  his  worst  to  explain  that  he  at  least  knew  of  her  and  the  club  she  had  founded  more  than  anything  however.

“Ah,  jizz  stains  galore  huh?  You  can  totally  wash  mine  to  you  know,  fuel  your  fantasies,”  he  enthused.  “Damn,  I  didn’t  even  get  to  make  my  jokes  about  the  funny  smell  that  followed  you  in  here,  that  stinks,”  he  whined,  like  anyone  naturally  smells  like  the  sour  odor  of  mothballs. “Funny,”  he  chuckled,  to  be  honest,  if  he  wasn’t  out  and  about  outside,  Max  was  shirtless, it  got  hot  way  too  easily  in  those  dorms. “I  don’t  know  honestly,  aren’t  you  keeping  track?  With  those  wandering  eyes  I  thought  you  had  the  stats  down  pat,”  he  admitted  dumping  the  remains  of  his  load  turning  towards  the  girl  leaning  against  the  machine.  “Fifty,  and  it  changes  depending  on  the  season.  Did  you  and  the  gang  split  up  and  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  curse  of  the  crashed  pool  party?  Or  you  know  what  I  think  there’s  actually  a  monster  under  my  bed,  can  you  guys  check  it  out?”

 Max’s laughter caused Jonah to pout in a way that made him look like a kicked puppy.“Shut up ,I do have a backbone.”,he argued ,giving him a light shove.He was tempted to make things easier for himself by getting a doormat tattooed on his forehead.It would bypass all the foreplay and sum up how everybody seemed to see him.He might of been transfixed on the way Max ran his tongue over his bottom lip but it wasn’t in a gay way.He was simply observing something that was difficult to ignore.Didn’t everybody fuck up and stare at a dude’s lips sometimes? “So , I’m a slug? Thanks for that.”

“I’m just trying to stop you from missing out on one banger of a movie and a bunch of shitty sequels."His real community service was making sure nobody missed out on a cool soundtrack and Kiera Knightly being a badass."Devilishly handsome and humble too?You really are the total package."he commented,sarcastically. 

He wasn’t sure what was worse ; all the times various BBC members had called him a little bitch or being told he seemed like the type of guy that watched weird animated porn.He was going to mention that knowing enough about weird internet subcultures to make jokes about them made somebody seem guilty of being a weirdo.”Everybody thinks Lola Bunny from Space Jam is hot.It doesn’t make me a furry.”,he joked with a chuckle.It was disturbing how many people ironically thought that.It was also disturbing how much the middle school biology teacher he had to pretend to be attracted to reminded him of Lola Bunny.“I’m also not the one that’s into weird tentacle porn."If he told anyone his theory about Sebastian he’d get punched but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t convinced it was true.The dude brought up hentai too much for somebody that hadn’t watched it.His eyes almost popped out of his head when Max asked if he was a virgin.What kind of person considered that small talk?"No."It would of been a convincing lie if he wasn’t fidgeting and his voice didn’t raise an octave.”Why are you interested in if I’m fucking or not?Is there like a height restriction to join the BBC but instead of how tall you are it’s how much pussy you’re getting.”It was so fucking weird.If Max was trying to psyche him out then mission accomplished.

“I don’t know I’ve never seen it.”,he admitted with a sheepish shrug.Horror movies weren’t really his thing.He got bored waiting for the next scare and didn’t care about what happened to the characters.Horror movies where are the characters were assholes because they existed just to be victims for the killer were the lamest ones.”I’ll take your word for it.If you say it’s a fucking classic then it’s a fucking classic.”It wasn’t that he trusted Max’s opinions on movies , his favourite movie was probably called Weapon of Ass Destruction or some shit.But it was an unspoken rule that his word was law and he called the shots.It was a rare sight but Jonah actually rolled his eyes.”You’re being paranoid , dude.Some people are nice because they want to be.It doesn’t mean they’re hiding a deep dark secret.”It was sad that Max couldn’t take things at face value and trust that some people were genuinely nice.”It’s not like I have a choice.” Any attempt to seem like he was begrudgingly offering to help with Max’s laundry was undermined by the smile on his face.”Is this hazing thing just an excuse to have guys do your dirty work?You’re such clever assholes.”Jonah remarked while following Max out of the laundry room.

“I  couldn’t  have  said  it  better  myself,  you’re  absolutely  welcome,”  he  concluded,  and  finally  getting  Jonah  to  say  it  himself,  in  true  Max  fashion,  like  he  knew  he  would. “Also,  don’t  touch  me  again  without  permission  or  I  will  gladly  kick  your  ass  in  ten  different  ways  and  have  the  boys  gang  bang  you,  and  not  in  the  way  you’d  like.”  Returning  the  slight  shove  he’d  given  earlier,  did  Max  mean  half  of  the  crude  and  unusual  shit  he  said?  Half  the  time,  the  other  fifty  percent  was  merely  an  attempt to  see  just  how  people  would  react.

“And  for  the  second  time  Jonah,  which  I  hate  having  to  say  things  twice,  I  don’t  care  about  Johnny  Depp  in  eyeliner  and  poorly  did  dreads,  talk  to  me  about  an  actually  good  movie  like  Narnia  or  some  shit  then  we’re  getting  somewhere,”  dismissing  him  and  his  movie  seamlessly  once  again,  it  really  was  like  talking  to  a  brick  wall  when  trying  to  convince  the  young  man  of  practically  anything  that  didn’t  have  the  honor  of  being  in  his  interests. “Exactly,”  he  replied  quickly  following  with  a  quick  wink  of   his  eye,  another  thing  he  couldn’t  have  said  better  himself,  and  for  someone  so  incredibly  witty  and  sarcastic  himself  he  didn’t  pick  up  on  that  comment  one  bit,  he  took  it  as  a compliment.

“That’s  exactly  what  it  makes  you,”  his  tone  uncomfortably  serious  as  opposed  to  his  lighthearted  one. “Any-fucking-ways,”  he  continued  wanting  a  change  of  topic  immediately, “that’s  a  pretty  ballsy  comment,  I  don’t  know  about   a  spine  but  maybe,  just  maybe  you’ve  got  balls,  are  you  trying  to  tell  me  something?”  His  head  tilted  as  he  arched  an  eyebrow,  you  don’t  just  say  things  like  that,  and  Max  himself  knew  first  hand  of  things  you  just  don’t  say  to  other  people,  but  he  still  pulled  them  out  his  arsenal  constantly.

Studying  his  demeanor  before  he  even  said  his  answer  gave  him  all  the  clarification  he  needed,  “why  did  I  even  ask?”  He  chuckled  shaking  his  head,  choosing  to  ignore  his  question  that  followed  with  a  swift  flip  of  the  bird.  On  second  thought....  “if  that  was  the  case  then  you’d  be  on  the  thinnest  of  ice  with  us,  you’d  might  as  well parade  around  with  Damian  and  the  rest  of  the  God  Will  Hate  Me  If  I  Get  My  Tiny  Dick  Wet  Club,”  he  explained,  he  didn’t  really  have  that  snarky  comment  in  his  repertoire until  it  was  nearly  too  late.

“See,  was  that  so  hard?”  he  asked  as  if  it  were  the  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world  to  agree  with  him,  even  though  it  very  well  could’ve  been.  “Go  watch  it  and  send  me  a  very  detailed  text  of  what  you  thought  of  it  or  you  can  be  Sebastian’s  bitch  for  a  week,”  he  ordered,  and  this  time  in  all  seriousness too,  Jonah  might  as  well  have  let  them  tattoo  pushover,  doormat,  or  even  little  bitch  on  his  forehead,  maybe  all  of  the  above.  “No,  I’m  being  cautious  and  I  don’t  give  a  fuck... when  they  somehow   all  appear  here  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  kill  us  all,  I’ll  be  screaming  I  told  you  so  from  hell.”

“I’m  glad  you  know,  and  partially,  the  other  half  is  just  because  torture  and  power  over  simpletons,  much  like  yourself,  is  such  a  hard-on,”  he  stated  as  he  didn’t  turn  around  not  once  to  face  him,  enforcing  meaningless authority  was  Max’s  favorite  pastime,  and  for  no  reason  at  all  honestly. 

Finally  arriving  to  his  dorm  room,  Max  swiftly  opened  the  door  stepping  aside  for  Jonah,  “ladies  first,  and  don’t  touch  my  shit.”  

blame it on the lack of events she’s attended in her life, more specifically the introversion she’s clung to from the safety of her own home, but mariah found the party  fun.  she never thought she’d be able to put FUN and SCHOOL  in the same sentence. then again she never thought she’d watch half-naked people jumping into a pool at broadripple.  but even after the lecture and a half she received for hanging out with drunk teenagers (conveniently leaving out that she, too, had her fair share of alcoholic beverages) even her mom was surprised her daughter had a good time. topped off with i told you you would   and   i don’t want to hear about this again. 

while the aftermath wasn’t ideal, she felt a wave of accomplishment to be one of the many forced to give back as punishment, happy to not be left out of this story.    “ actually, it’s even more thrilling than that. i get to sort hand-me-downs.”   she tried to make her words sound fascinating, as if sorting through thrifted fits was an absorbing hobby, but her features found no effort in pretending.  “ i started a game in my head called guess the stain and if i ever find myself getting bored there is always a white trash bag filled with unwashed clothes stacked with dog hair just waiting for me. ”  from what she knows of max - which isn’t much, don’t get her wrong -  the kindliness of this conversation wasn’t going to last long. she represses the tiny part of her warning her to be a bitch before he could be an asshole.   “ i wasn’t even aware this was legal. aren’t there laws preventing child labor? ”

“No  fucking  way  blondie,  I  thought  hand-me-downs  were  a  myth,”  he  gasped  as  if  it  were  the  most  shocking  news  he’d  heard  in  all  his  privileged  life. “But,  I  don’t  care,  you  didn’t  answer  my  questions,  and  that’s  kinda  way  more  important  right  now,  so,  did  you  enjoy  the  party?”  His  tone  apologetic  while  there  was  no  hint  of  an  apology  in  his  words  whatsoever.  Her  next  comment  however,  well  it  was  an  innuendo  just  waiting  to  escape Max’s  turbulent  mouth.

“Guess  the  stain? I  could  make  that  game  about  ten  times  easier  for  you,  give  me  a  good  minute  and  I  can  put  a  new  stain  on  your  shirt,  or  your  face,  I’m  not  indifferent,”  his  ability  to  say  the  most  atrocious  things  so  casually  was  actually  pretty  alarming,  especially  with  at  the  rate  he  was  going  too. “I  don’t  know,  do  I  look  like  I’ve  ever  had  a  job  before,  or  like...  fought  for  child  labor  laws?  Laundry  duty  can’t  be  that  bad.  Some  of  my  guys  are  stuck  with  those  said  little  bastards  in  training  in  Nighmore.”  Any  chance  to  let  his  pure  dislike  of  that  town  show,  he  was  going  to  express it. “Count  your  goodings,  or  however  that  saying  goes.”

 Oh shit.Jonah was frozen in place.Rational thoughts left his head and all that was left were hormones doing an erratic jig and making him lose the ability to think straight.All he could focus on was the fact that Max was uncomfortably close and was tracing a circle around his lower back.He bit his lip and tried to stay calm. It was just a joke.He was being fucked with , that was all.It was nothing to lose his head over.Then the smack that caused him to let out a shaky breath and come to his senses.”Err fuck you , man.I’ve got a spine.I’m not some weird floppy jelly man.”He was totally nailing this whole talking like a normal person and staying calm thing. “

The first Pirates Of The Caribbean was iconic.I can’t believe you haven’t seen it.”It was pitiful that that was one of the few issues Jonah was willing to stand firm on but he was raised on 00s Disney live action adventure films and was very passionate about them.National Treasure was an underrated gem.”You seem like the kind of guy that had a pirate phase as a kid.I’m shocked.”,he said with a confident nod.It made sense in his head.Max and ruthless criminals that stole treasure and marooned people as a punishment seemed to go together like peanut butter and jelly or Damian Fitzgerald and boring Powerpoints about pointless subject matter.”It’s not like you tried very hard to get other people to leave.”It would of been difficult to get anybody to leave when they were in the party zone but Jonah was too bitter to think rationally.He needed a reason to whine about picking up trash all afternoon.”If everybody thought they were hot shit you’d be out of a job.”He snorted at the mention of Max trying to get him laid.”Aww you’re my hero.Where would I be without you trying to get me laid?”,he inquired while ironically putting a hand on his heart.”

“That’s dumb.We’re not in some shitty horror movie.They’re probably normal kids that are super easy to entertain.”Jonah didn’t understand why some people were creeped out by Nightmore or hated it.To him it was just a regular sleepy small town where everybody was involved in each other’s business because there wasn’t anything else to do or a large pool of people to mingle with.”Wow sounds like you’re going to have some full afternoons.Enjoy all your stuff.”,he comment with a salute. 

I’ve  got  a  spine, caused  him  to  burst  out  with  a  loud  laughter,  but  he  contained  himself  quickly. “Okay  yeah  man,  did  you  leave  it  in  your  room  or  what?” A  single  curious  left  eyebrow  rose  as  he  questioned  the  pledge. “You  could’ve  fooled  me,  you’re  like, a, uh...”  his  tongue  running  on  his  bottom  lip  as  he  sat  in  his  thoughts  for  a  few  seconds, “something  that  has  no  fucking  backbone  whatsoever.” He  concluded  shrugging  the  situation  off  seamlessly.

“Jonah,  dude  I  don’t  give  a  fuck  man,”  he  stated  with  a  lighthearted  chuckle  as  his  lips  curved  into  a  smile,  was  he  really  about  to  try  and  give  him  a  lecture  about  Disney?  “No,  I  went  straight  to  the devilishly  handsome  son  of  a  bitch  we  know  and  love  today.” It  was,  but  way  too true, as  many  already  knew.

The  next  comment  summoned  a  thought  in  Max’s  head  because  honestly  where  would  he  be? “Somewhere  jacking  off  to  like,  furry  porn  or  something  like  that,  you  seem  like  the  type  to  be  honest,  anime  too.”  Could  he  (or  any  other  BBC member)  make  it  through  any  conversation  without  referencing porn  or  masturbation? “I’m pretty  sure  you’re  getting  tired  of  your  hand  man.” He  examined  the  boy  and  his  demeanor  one  more  time, “are  you  a  virgin?”

Poppy rolled her eyes. She had, on more than one occasion, seriously considered starting a black market for her nudes with how often she had boys at this school sharing their sexual fantasies about her, to her. Like an unsolicited dick pic, they were always a letdown: sad, disappointing, and not up to her meticulous standards.

“First of all,” she said, “running out of mixers halfway through the evening shows poor planning. You should never expect your guests to default to Coors Lights – like what is this, a fucking tailgate? Unless you’re a psychopath or Russian, nobody is drinking vodka straight from the bottle.” Poppy paused, in case he needed a moment to take notes. “Second pointer, you need a DJ. I don’t care if it’s your weird cousin with a Soundcloud and a Macbook, the last thing I want to hear is your Spotify playlist. The last thing anyone wants to hear is your Spotify playlist. You have the money to pay someone who knows what the fuck people dance to, so use it.”

The Broadripple Boys Club had rare advantages most high school students didn’t. They didn’t live at home, they were hella loaded, and had an empty barn to do literally whatever the fuck they wanted with. Not going all out for every party was never an option. “You’ll never last a day past initiation in a real fraternity if that’s what you think a banger is. It’s time to make like Steve Carell and get smart before you crash and burn at seventeen.” 

"Right,” he  said,  his  tone  dragging  as  he  did  so. She  talked,  a  lot  too. “Uh  huh,  yeah,  duly  noted.”  All  he  offered  was  a  quick  nod  of  the  head.  He  changed  his  mind,  immediately.  She  talked,  a  lot  too,  you  know  how  some  people  just  loved  hearing  the  sound  of  their  own  voice?  That  was  Poppy,  to  an  extreme  in  Max’s  opinion.  

What  a  raging  bitch, his  inner  thoughts  shouted  at  the  top  of  their  lungs,  but  Max  knew  the  type  all  too  well,  that  was  going  to  serve  as  nothing  short  of  a  compliment  to  his  fellow  housemate. “Well look, my  super  sweet  sixteen,  half  of  that  shit  is  not  going  to  slide  so  well  trying  to  sneak  it  into  the  pool ,  which,  oh  no  get  this,”  he  hesitated,  rather  sarcastically,  as  if  the  answer  was  obvious, “that’s  why  we  have  a  barn  out  in  the  middle  of  nowhere,”  he  stated  simply.  He  was  all  for  taking  risks,  his  reputation  preceded  him  definitely,  but  some  shit  just  wasn’t  worth  risking.

“So,”  he  dragged  on  the  vowels  once  again  while  gathering  the  last  of  his  things.  “Are  you  really  going  to  sit  there  and  go  through  who  knows  how  many  premature  cumrag  clothing,  or  are  we  going  to  talk  smart  party  planning  and  remember  where  the  fuck  we  are?”  He  quizzed,  turning  on  his  heel,  sauntering  out  of  the  laundry  area  before   turning  back  once  again, “and  by  the  way,  my Apple  Music  playlist  is  fucking  impeccable,  if  ass  isn’t  shaking  it’s  not  my  fault.”

GET TO KNOW MAX “FUCKING” PERRY.

He’s toxic. His smile will poison you. His boyish charm dangerous. The glint in his eyes as he challenges you to do something devious is lethal.