Without You

Chapter Fourteen

    Max spots an abandoned soccer ball on the side of the road, and picks it up. Right now, Pat is holding it, passing it through his hands.

"We'll see how much better you are than me, now," Max tells me.

"I don't know," I say, looking down at my feet.

Silence follows.

"You quit soccer," Max states.

Uh oh. "Yeah, I did."

"Why?" Max asks.

I look up at him. "It didn't feel right anymore. I just kind of lost love for it. . ."

"Why'd you lie about it earlier?" he asks.

The summer breeze blows my hair around a bit. I quickly tuck my hair behind my ear. I stay quiet, hoping that Max will just drop it, but when I look up at him, his eyes are eager for an answer. "So I'd have an excuse for kicking you," I answer begrudgingly.

"Because?" Max inquires.

I sigh. "Because you were all smiley at that fake Barbie," I whisper. 

Max's face breaks out into a wide smile. "Oh, I get it now," Max says, smiling to himself. "You're jealous," he teases.

I gasp. "No."

"You are," he accuses.

"Let's talk about you," I say. "She's coming onto you so hard, and you're totally eating it up."

"She's pretty," Max says. "And actually into me. What's wrong with that?"

"I don't know," I trail off. "She's just mean, I guess. I didn't think you'd be into a girl like that."

"And why would you care, Jane?" he raises his voice. I almost shudder at his words.

I shush him. "Keep it down."

He lowers his voice, but it's still laced with the same harshness as before. "Remember what you said when I kissed you? We're friends, and nothing more," he hisses.

He's got me there. "I'm sorry," I say.

Max reaches up to run his hands through his hair. Instinctively, my eyes run down to his shirt lifting up. Then I notice a bruise on his skin. And then another.

It's kind of hard to see, as it runs up where his shirt is covering his skin. Max notices my gaze, and drops his hands immediately.

"What was that?" I ask him, stopping in my tracks.

Max stops walking too, which causes everyone to stop.

"What's going on?" Pat asks.

"Nothing," Max says lightly. "We'll catch up with you guys."

Laurie looks at me, puzzled, but I tell her with my eyes to go on. And she does.

Margaret takes one glance at us, and then follows them.

I cross my arms. "Take off your shirt," I demand.

Max is surprised, eyes widening. "Wha-" he begins, but can't go on any further.

"You heard me," I say, unyielding.

"No," he laughs incredulously. "I'm not taking it off."

I take his hand, and lead him into the alley. "Okay, now," I order.

"I told you before, I'm not—"

I lift up his shirt, revealing several purple marks on his tan skin. I back away from him. The air is thick with tension. Max looks down at his feet.

I don't even know what to say. "Did Oscar do this?"

Max remains silent. I already know the answer. But I want to hear him say it. I push down on one of his bruises.

Max winces in pain. "Yes!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, exasperated.

"Because I didn't want you to get mad."

"Well, I am mad," I fume. "But not at you," I tell him.

Max looks at me, ashamed. "You will be very soon," he warns me.

"What? Why?" I ask.

"Because I was the one who hit him first."

My jaw drops. "You, what?" I yell at him. "Why would you hit him?"

Max hesitates, and takes a moment to answer. "Because I was jealous."

This silences me. I don't know what to say, or what to do. I can't look at his face. This makes me notice what's around his neck. It's the necklace I made for him out of a tiny mussel shell. I made that for him years ago. I can't believe he's still wearing it.

I snap back to Max punching Oscar. I'm so mad at him right now.

"Because you were jealous?" I fume. Max might have just ruined my whole relationship with Oscar.

The sun has set, and it's already starting to get dark. By the time we get to the beach, it'll be pitch black. "You know what? Let's just go find the others," I say, and start walking away from him.