Tough LoveMature

Maya and Max sat slumped against the lockers in the hallway.

They both had their eyes glued to the clock jutting out on a
pole above a row of lockers to their left, willing the hands to move faster.



“So…” Maya started, in an effort to break the silence.


“Hmmph?” Max mumbled, looking over with glassy eyes. He
looked absolutely exhausted.


“Did you just move here or…?”


He shrugged, “Yeah, I moved here.”


He didn’t sound so sure of himself, Maya noted.

She nodded.


“So you haven’t seen the Mountain-Dew-bottle Christmas tree
over on Third Street,
have you?”


He raised a questioning eyebrow.


Maya laughed, “Welcome to hillbilly heck,”


Max tipped his head back and laughed quietly, his eyes
closed, the back of his head resting on the cool metal of the lockers.


Maya fiddled with one of her silly bands absently.

Max opened his eyes and found his gaze drifting towards the

To Max, Maya was quite beautiful, in her own unique way.

Her eyes were sea-green, like the ocean right after a storm.


He found her staring at him.


“Sorry,” He mumbled, his line of vision focusing on a series
of watermarks on the ceiling.


She shook her head, “Its fine.”


He glanced back at her. She wasn’t acting shy anymore.

Maya smiled.

Max smiled back.




Over the next few weeks, Maya and Max found themselves
becoming great friends. They ate together at lunch, met each other in the
morning before the first bell, and generally had a great time.

Max found himself looking out for her. When others picked on
her, he stood up for her and got them to leave her alone.


One day, a crowd of Goth was calling her ‘rainbow-puff’,
surrounding her, pulling on her hair and tried to take her zebra-stripe bag.




They paused for a moment, glancing at Max before resuming
the torture.


“Leave her – alone,”
Max’s voice was deadly quiet.


“Whatcha gonna do, punk? Huh? Whatcha gonna do?” One member
of the gang drew up towards Max. This particular goon had a bright red mohawk,
baggy black clothes with chains, and a pierced tongue that caused him to have
slurred speech.


Max decked him right in the face. The guy staggered back
against his fellows. They caught him, holding him upright.

He uttered a particularly nasty profanity at Max and wiped
the blood from his nose.


“You’re gonna pay for that you little –” (Insert profanity


Max tilted his head to one side and considered the threat.


“No. I don’t think so.”


He withdrew a knife from his belt.


“NO!” Maya screamed but a muscular sophomore with an anchor
tattoo and a shredded white tank-top held her back.


The goon stabbed Max.


Max began to laugh.


“What the-” He drew back.


Maximus Aquarian pulled the knife from his gut and offered
it to the punk, “Here. Sorry, it’s a little dirty now,”


The bully grew pale.


In a matter of a few mere seconds, the gang had all but
vanished from sight, screaming like girls as they fled down the hallway.

They all knew - that knife should have killed Max.

But it didn’t.


“Max!” Maya ran to him and found herself caught up in his


“It’s okay. I’m okay,” He murmured, burying his face into
her hair.


She gathered fistfuls of his grey hoodie, confused tears
streaming down her face.


“How are you alive?” Her voice cracked.


Max screwed his eyes shut, thinking to himself –I’m not…..




The End

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