I Don't Do Birthdays

Chapter 3

She did not come to school for three weeks.

And the rumours going round the school just got more fantastic each passing day.

"Didn't you hear? She went totally crazy and is now in a mental institute."

"Nooooo! Really? I heard she tried to stab Ashley outside of school and got suspended!"

"You guys are wrong. She tried to do some sort of voodoo shit on Ashley. It backfired and she lost all her hair! That's why she's not in school."

"Is it true she got a shrine of Jamie Harrison in her locker with, like, bits of his hair and everything? 'cos if she does, I want to see it!"

Jamie shook his head at all the ridiculous rumours flying around. He glared at anyone who talked rubbish about Max's disappearance and the majority of them knew well enough to keep schtum about Max in front of him. Except his girlfriend, that is. Ashley was walking round triumphantly like she owned the hallways, immensely happy that she did not have to share him with "that freak Miller."

"Ashley, just stop that, will you?" Jamie growled impatiently for the umpteenth time. They were hanging out on the steps leading up to the school doors, waiting for the bell. She was yet again tearing Max into bits with her two clones, discussing why Max Miller suddenly disappeared and he was tired of it. "Max did not contract genital warts and needed to get cleaned up."

"Well, how would you know, Jamie?" Ashley answered back. "I heard she's got quite a reputation, sleeping around like a slut."

"Oh my god, where did you even hear that?" Jamie cried.

As far as he know, Max did not date that much, let alone sleep with anyone indiscriminately. Things like relationships mattered to her. And frankly he didn't think anyone was good enough for her. There had been a guy she had been semi-serious about when she was 16 but that was it. She broke it off, thank god. So no, Max was not a slut. He would know. He's her best friend.

Jamie frowned a little at that, feeling his insides twisting.

Is he really? Is he still her best friend? He treated her abominably. It was not cool what he did. It was downright low and he admitted it. He was a very bad friend; the worst kind of friend. And he could not even put these stupid rumours to rest because he himself did not know where Max actually was.

After that disastrous day, he had hotfooted straight to her house, hoping to catch her. He didn't know what to say exactly but he knew she was hurt and he had to make it better. Her house was silent; even the curtains to her bedroom was drawn shut. He did have a spare key and on any other day, would just walk into her house and up into her room but it did not feel right to do so. Especially when she was so angry at him like that.

Jamie just sat out on her porch, calling and texting her but the calls and texts went unanswered. Both Ella and Stacy did not answer his calls either and he was at his wit's end. He waited for hours, thinking about what had happened. A few calls came from Ashley and he ignored them. He could not handle any more Ashley dramatics for that day.

He stared round the front yard of Max's house, remembering bits of their shared childhood playing on that yard; all the adventures they went on, all the fun they had. The spot where she fell out of the tree house and broke her arm. He was hysterical but Max had been remarkably calm. Endless summers spent on water fights or lazily lying in the hammock. The time he had chickenpox and was utterly miserable and she dabbed spots on herself with a red magic marker; just so she too could stay home and accompany him. She got chickenpox for real two weeks later. That time when they were twelve and she stood up to a bully because he was making fun of Jamie's haircut. She had that same dangerous look like just now - she later decked and floored that boy and was grounded for a week.