Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Welcome Week, Max Caulfield thought, was beginning to sound an awful lot like a fancier, shorter version of Overwhelm the Shit Out of You So You Don’t Start Thinking About How Badly You Don’t Want to Be Here Week.

At least now, in the comfort and solitude of her dorm room, she could have a minute to herself to let her thoughts take a turn towards the morose. Maybe she’d even get the opportunity to go on a real crying jag tonight before she went to sleep — it would be the first time she’d cried since arriving here on Sunday evening. 

Her mom had been teary-eyed and entirely not subtle in her frequent insistences that Max text, and text often, and if the worrying weren’t enough of a clue, then the endless crushing bear hugs certainly were. At the time, Max had been grateful for the excuse to stifle those feelings; she’d pulled it together long enough for her family to drop her off with an entirely embarrassing (but also exasperatingly heartfelt) amount of kisses and mushy goodbyes, and had planned on letting go when they’d at last left her alone. But as she’d sat on her stiff dorm bed, the sheets still too cold and crisp from never having been slept on, she hadn’t been able to summon the tears at all. Her new roommate had arrived shortly after that to claim the empty space against the right side of the room, and Max had been all too glad to allow the distraction of meeting her and her solemn-faced but kind family to push that lingering homesickness to the back of her mind.

Homesick, right in the middle of Arcadia Bay. There was a strange sort of irony in that, but Max wasn’t sure if she wanted to dwell on that too much yet. She’d grown up here, knew this place so well that she could photograph every inch of it blindfolded, and yet it had never felt more alien to her.

She’d hoped that involving herself with the myriad of on-campus activities this week would help alleviate that strange sense of isolation and reacquaint her with the sleepy little town she’d once loved so much. Really, all it had accomplished was to tire out her legs from walking around so much all day and gift her with the beginning traces of a sunburn across her cheeks and nose. The sun had shone bright and hot all day, the persistent end of August refusing to give way to a cooler September. The sunshine and vivid blue, cloudless sky had been pleasant that morning, but after an entire day of strolling aimlessly around on the quad and watching kids toss Frisbees back and forth, or swing in hammocks, or sit chattering in happy circles around whichever pretentious douche in the group decided to bring a guitar, all she felt was sweaty and achy. And ready for a good nap.

And hopefully, some alone time. 

Maybe it was a touch unfair for her to be so cynical about it all. After all, she’d gone out of her way to push herself to attend the Welcome Week events — even purchased one of the cheap little blue armbands the student center had given out to mark the students who had paid to actively participate in the activities, like the rock climbing wall or water balloon fight — only to ultimately chicken out as soon as she got there. Though she’d been tempted to join in, the thought of all those people looking at her, noticing her, had been enough to send her back to the sidelines, watching between the shoulders of other less daring people in the crowd, some part of her wishing that she could just be brave enough to not care so much what other people thought. 

Every time that she’d tried to push herself out of her comfort zone this week, every time that the voice in her head had told her to be strong and put herself out there, another, quieter voice had been there whispering that maybe she didn’t even deserve to be here in the first place. That maybe, no matter how hard she tried, there would be no point because she’d never truly fit in.

The logical part of Max’s brain knew that simply wasn’t true. She’d fought hard for her spot here and earned it just as fairly as anybody else. She not only deserved to be here, but deserved to be happy. Deserved to give herself a chance. And she was happy to be here at Blackwell University. Really, she was. She’d quite literally jumped for joy when the acceptance letter had arrived in the mail — and the not-inconsequential amount of scholarship money she’d earned had certainly not been a downside.

But when had logic alone ever been enough to chase away fear? Insecurity, unfortunately, didn’t seem to operate in any sensible sort of way. She’d just have to overcome it on her own, and prove to herself — to everyone around her — that she was exactly where she needed to be.

With her thoughts swirling about into a nonsensical tangle in her head, Max sighed and flopped down onto her bed, trying not to cringe at the way its ancient springs groaned ominously under her weight. The mattress was lumpy and unforgiving. For a few moments, she stayed like that, simply gazing unblinkingly up at her dorm room’s popcorn ceiling until she could start making out patterns in the little bumps and ridges overhead.

Though she usually liked to fill quiet moments like this with her favorite music, especially when she needed to calm herself down, today she felt so bone-tired that she welcomed the silence.

It could have been a few minutes or an eternity later when the door clicked open, startling Max out of her thoughts even though it could only be one other person. Sure enough, when she scrambled to prop herself up on her elbows and lift her head and back up from the bed, she moved just in time to see Kate Marsh, her new roommate, entering the room. Her dark blonde hair had been scraped up into a pretty, dainty bun that suited her round face nicely, and when she caught sight of Max, the soft smile that touched the corners of her mouth did wonders to brighten up her somber downturned eyes.

“Oh, hey, Max,” she greeted, busying herself with straightening a few trinkets and papers atop her standard-issue desk.

“Hi, Kate.”

“Back so early? I thought you said you were going to do some of the Welcome Week stuff today. Isn’t it still going on?” 

There was nothing accusatory in Kate’s words, but Max couldn’t help the embarrassed flush that immediately turned her cheeks blotchy red. Hopefully Kate would just mistake it for the sunburn.

“Uh . . . yeah, I went down earlier to check it out, but I guess it wasn’t really my thing after all,” Max replied, at last pulling herself up to a proper sitting position on the bed. “Sorry — you don’t need the room, do you? If you want some privacy, I don’t mind hanging out in the common area for a little while.”

Kate waved her hand as if dismissing the suggestion, though not unkindly. “Oh, no no, don’t worry about it,” she said. “I actually just came back to the room to grab my wallet. I was going to go down to the caf to get some dinner.” She paused, giving Max a quick once-over, and then seemed to arrive at a conclusion before tacking on quickly, “Did you want to maybe come with me?”

Max smiled wanly. “That sounds great, but I’m actually pretty beat. I’m gonna just chill in here for the evening, I think. But thanks for offering — I’d really like to go with you next time, okay?” And as she spoke, she found that her words were genuine. Kate seemed really kind, and even though Max wasn’t so idealistic as to imagine that she and her roommate absolutely had to be besties forever, she did like the idea of at least getting to know the soft-spoken girl a little better.

“Okay,” said Kate. “Awesome. I’ll keep that in mind.” Another long pause, and then, just as the silence began to slowly creep from endearing towards awkward territory, Kate added, “Well, have a good evening, Max.”

“Yeah, you too.”

And as Kate left the room and closed the door quietly behind her, Max tried not to think about how that was the deepest conversation she’d had with anyone in days.

On Friday, with the welcome week activities finally beginning to dwindle to a slow halt (it seemed as if Blackwell had run out of ideas for keeping the students busy, and the events had petered out into a more general “come hang on the quad while we play loud music and give out free snow cones” feel) Max went for a walk on campus.

In the dusky haze of early evening, the campus bathed in the warm golden glow of the late summer sun, everything seemed so much more peaceful. In spite of her initial misgivings about Blackwell, there was a certain beauty about the place, elegant and old, that inspired her; this was the sort of place that was easy to romanticize, easy to still keep thinking of as a dream come true no matter how many nightmarish days you seemed to have here. Even the air seemed crisp and fresh, as if every inhale could somehow be enough to fill you full of all the promise and optimism you’d ever need. Max supposed that was a good thing — it was much better than sitting around in her room and allowing herself too much time to mope. 

She’d even stopped to take a few photos on her walk today. It was amazing what just a little time outdoors (without all the commotion of welcome week) could do for those creative muses. For just these few moments, feeling the summer breeze on her face and listening to the birdsong overhead, it was easier for her to shut out the voice inside her head that always seemed to tell her that she wasn’t good enough, that none of the photos she would ever take could ever be good enough. For just a little while, being good or bad didn’t matter, just simply making the art was all she needed.

It was a nice feeling, even if she knew it wouldn’t last.

When she’d made it about halfway across campus, a movement out of the corner of her eye — coupled with the noise of someone swearing furiously and colorfully under their breath — caught Max’s attention.

Slowing the already-meandering pace she’d kept up throughout her little stroll, Max glanced over her right shoulder, searching for the source of the voice. She found it when her gaze landed upon first an old, beat-up looking vending machine propped against the side of a nearby brick school building — and then, the blue-haired individual pounding incessantly on its glass surface. A girl, Max realized as she took a few tentative but curious steps closer. Clad in a white tank top with some band’s label scrawled on the front in a jet black font that looked from a distance like little more than illegible slashes and swirls. Her jeans were dark and ripped.

“Fucking thing — better not have eaten my cash,” she seemed to be mumbling, somehow both to herself and yet loudly enough for everyone in the remote vicinity to have heard.

She was . . . cool. There was no other word for it. Effortlessly so in that way Max had always wished she could be, if it weren’t for her own damned shyness and lack of self-confidence.

So cool, apparently, that Max didn’t even realize she was staring — literally, embarrassingly, open-mouth gaping — until the blue-haired girl turned around and started speaking directly to her.

“Hey!”

Max jolted, collecting herself, unsure if it were even possible for her to be more mortified. Just as she opened her mouth to try to stammer out the first pathetic, quivering apology she could think of, the girl cut her off and spoke again.

“Why don’t you take a fuckin’ picture? It’ll last longer.” The girl’s eyes narrowed, her gaze made even sharper by her dramatic eyeliner.

Max could tell that her cheeks had gone beet-red by the heat in her face, the embarrassed lump swelling in her throat, and she hated herself for it. Still, after a moment, she drew her shoulders up to full height and set her jaw stubbornly; she had already gotten off to a bad enough start here at Blackwell, and didn’t need to add to it with some rando antagonizing her (even if Max had been, admittedly, gawking like an idiot.)

“Sor-ry,” she said, lifting her hands in mock defensiveness. “Next time you’re having a temper tantrum out loud for the whole street to hear, I’ll be sure to ignore it.” She wasn’t even sure where the bravado came from, and regretted the bite in the words as soon as they’d left her lips. She was usually so cautious — at the very least, mindful enough to keep any snarky quips to herself instead of blurting them out and practically inviting a punch to the face.

Still, if this angered the girl even further, it didn’t show. As a matter of fact, she seemed more shocked by the response than anything else, her eyebrows arching to the point that they nearly disappeared behind her choppy blue fringe. Even from the distance apart that they stood, Max could see the strangely amused glint in the girl’s eye, the slight smirk that pulled up at the corner of her mouth. Max didn’t dare flatter herself with the thought that she might have actually impressed her. Nor did she stop to consider why she even wanted the approval of someone so openly rude and confrontational.

“Fuck off,” was the girl’s eloquent reply.

Back in her dorm later that evening, Max decided to omit her confrontation with the strange girl from a brief phone call with her parents. They hadn’t called all week, but her mother had been desperate for details of how her first week at school went, how she was settling in, if she and Kate were getting along, and blah blah blah. Max had done her best to recount the brief, scattered occasions in which she’d actually attended the welcome week events with believable optimism, the phoniness of the cheer in her voice almost paining her as much as the muscles in her face straining to keep up her false smile. Maybe eventually, the more she kept telling these lies, the sooner she’d start to believe she was actually capable of fitting in here. And the last thing she wanted was for her parents to think their daughter was a social pariah.

Not too long after her call home had ended, Kate returned to the dorm room, a black, half-crumpled flyer of some kind in her hand. Max didn’t look up from where she sat at her desk with her laptop, figuring that Kate was only briefly stopping by the room again, as she’d been in and out pretty frequently for most of the week. She barely noticed the thoughtful, slightly nervous look on her roommate’s face until Kate cleared her throat and actually spoke up.

“Uh . . . hey, Max,” she said, and Max immediately looked up, blinking in surprise. She quickly closed her laptop, where she’d been browsing (or more like daydreaming about the contents of) her favorite online camera store. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, Kate. What’s up?”

A tiny, almost rueful half-smile touched Kate’s soft features. “Well, I feel kind of stupid asking this, but . . . you wouldn’t happen to be up for coming with me to a party tomorrow night, would you?” As if to punctuate her sentence, she held up the flyer, which Max now realized must have been so wrinkled from Kate folding it and unfolding it so many times in her worry and indecision.

“Party?” Max echoed lamely. She couldn’t exactly say the idea enthused her too much, but she didn’t want to write it off just yet. “What kind of party?”

Kate sighed and gave a shrug, chuckling a bit to herself. “Apparently some kind of club is throwing it? The Vortex Club? It’s supposed to be a sort of . . . welcome to campus thing for all the freshmen, from what I understand.” She gave the flyer a halfhearted glance, her disinterest obviously feigned in spite of her best efforts otherwise. 

“Really?” said Max, leaning forward and gently taking the paper from Kate’s hand, curious against her better interest. “No offense, Kate, but I hardly took you for the partying type. Are you sure you want to go? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Don’t let anybody pressure you.”

“I’m not, usually,” Kate admitted. “The partying type, I mean. But . . . well, I don’t know. I guess I was thinking now’s as good a time as any to put myself out there and try new things,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. “And I don’t have to drink while I’m there if I don’t want to, and . . . and I figured if I had someone else there with me, I might have more courage about the whole thing.” She paused, directing her thoughtful stare towards the window, as though she were searching for the sun where it slowly dipped below the horizon. “I like who I am well enough, I guess, but when’s a better time than college to find out if I’m someone entirely different than I thought?” She seemed to think better of it, sending a sheepish glance in Max’s direction. “Maybe that sounds dumb.”

Actually, in a lot of ways, Max completely understood how Kate must feel. Coming to Blackwell had felt as if she were a blank slate for the first time in her life, as if she really could be anybody or anything she wanted, if only she dared. She’d been worried, at first, about whether college would change her, whether leaving home would turn her into a version of herself that she didn’t like anymore, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she didn’t even know if she liked herself now . It was hard to determine, when she barely knew who she was at all. And maybe Kate was right — maybe putting yourself out there was all it took to take a step in the right direction. At least she was making an effort, even as nervous as she looked about the whole thing; could Max honestly say she’d given it a decent try yet, herself?

“No, Kate, not at all,” Max answered at last. “I totally get it, you don’t sound dumb at all.” She twisted in her seat so that she could properly face Kate. “Who are these Vortex Club guys, anyway?”

Again, Kate shrugged. “Who knows, really? I’ve heard so many different things about them, even just after being here only a week. Apparently it’s some pretty exclusive group — one with a really long history at Blackwell. I still can’t even believe they added me to their list. But it’s worth a shot, right? Maybe they aren’t as scary or intimidating when it’s a party.”

Somehow, Max doubted that, but she didn’t say it aloud. There were definitely red flags here, and she had to play her cards right. Though she didn’t exactly know Kate well after only being here for such a short time, Max still couldn’t help but find it unusual that her roommate seemed to be taking any possible chance to rationalize attending some random party, even against her better judgement. Not that it mattered — Max would never judge her if she genuinely wanted to go party for a while, no harm in that at all. But there was something . . . weird about it, even if she couldn’t exactly put her finger on it. To make matters even worse, neither she nor Kate could even explain what the Vortex Club actually did .

Maybe it would be a good idea after all for Max to come along, if Kate did insist on going. That way, if there ended up being trouble, Kate wasn’t there all by herself. And if in the end, it turned out to just be a normal, generic and comfortably boring college party, then Max would be both relieved and embarrassed at herself for even worrying so much to begin with. They didn’t even have to stay long, if they didn’t want to.

“Okay,” Max concluded at last, though she didn’t like the nervous fluttering in the pit of her stomach one bit. “Sure, Kate, I’ll go with you. Why not? Maybe it’ll be fun after all, you know?”

“Oh, Max, thank you! You’re the best,” Kate said, promptly hugging her around the neck, even though Max was still sitting down and the position of their embrace wasn’t exactly comfortable. “I owe you one, big time.”

Max could only hope that this decision wouldn’t come back around to bite her in the ass.

But it would, she knew it would — because they usually did.

Chapter Text

Saturday evening arrived with the sort of swiftness that it seems can only ever be accomplished by the things we dread. Max had thought, perhaps naively, that she would make it through the entire day without becoming too nervous at the prospect of attending her first college party — the first real party she’d ever been to in general, really, one that wasn’t just her nerdy photography club friends from high school hanging out in their parents’ basements with soda and snacks and D&D. But without fail, when she’d glanced at her phone and realized that there were only a few more hours left until she and Kate had planned to be at the party, a pile of icy stones settled into the pit of her stomach. She’d tried to ignore the tight grip of panic coiling inside her, but that crumpled-up Vortex Club flyer still sitting on Kate’s desk seemed to taunt her, drawing her gaze no matter how hard she focused on something else.

The Vortex Club. She’d heard of them before, as it turned out. Growing up in Arcadia Bay made it difficult to avoid all the secrets such a close-knit community had to offer. Max had only ever heard rumors before though, vague hints of stories from sources so far removed from the club itself that their authenticity was often hard to determine. Still, their reputation alone was enough to inspire the gnawing worry that had followed her ever since Kate’s request yesterday. It had been years since she’d heard them even mentioned; in Seattle, it had almost seemed as if her life here had been a distant memory, Arcadia Bay some mythical town in a storybook that could never again be real to her. Yet now that she’d come back, it all seemed to be falling neatly back into place again, all the old things she’d thought she might never concern herself with again flooding back as if they’d never left at all.

Max wished she were the sort of person who would refuse to be intimidated by the Vortex Club. On most occasions, she aspired not to care so much what other people thought of her, but it seemed so much harder to do that when being here at Blackwell made her feel so out of place to begin with. Lying to herself about whether or not she felt she deserved to be here was one thing, but having to tell that lie to others? She was exhausted just thinking about it. The Vortex Club was old, and most certainly elitist . . . did she truly want to waste her time tonight trying to fight against the feelings of inferiority that being near them would inevitably give her?

When she thought of Kate being alone with them, though, Max knew she couldn’t follow her instincts and just fake sick to get out of going. Though she and her roommate had only known one another for a short time, Kate seemed so sweet and trusting of the people around her. Letting her walk into that chaos by herself was like leaving a sheep to wander among a pack of wolves.

Max exhaled slowly, glad for the sense of relief it brought her. Since when had she allowed herself to be so “doom and gloom” about everything? She’d sulked more over the past week than she thought she might ever have done in her entire life before. Well, now was as good a time as any to put an end to that. For all she knew, tonight could end up being more fun than she’d expected. And could it really hurt to put herself out there? Maybe Blackwell wouldn’t feel like such a mistake for her if she could find some friends, some kind of community to involve herself in here. And that couldn’t start until she pushed herself out of her comfort zone a bit.

Kate seemed to be in relatively high spirits that evening, at least. Max was grateful for the comfort of her roommate’s easygoing presence, especially when she herself felt inwardly as if one stiff breeze might send her falling apart. It was refreshing to see her so excited about the night’s upcoming events. Kate’s enthusiasm was contagious enough that, after a while, as they helped each other get ready in their dorm room that evening, even Max started feeling more relaxed and ready to handle whatever the Vortex Club might throw at her.

“So,” Kate said from where she stood by the mirror on the far end of the dorm, close to the door. As she spoke, her hands busied themselves with twisting her hair into a simple loose bun, a style that managed to look elegant and classy on her rather than rigid or uptight. “Do you think you’re going to try to meet someone tonight?” A laugh punctuated her sentence, and her hand daintily covered her mouth, as if the very suggestion were something scandalous.

Not for the first time, Max was reminded of how sheltered Kate truly seemed to be. She supposed it was a good thing after all that they would be going together tonight. Not that Kate couldn’t take care of herself, but . . . the Vortex Club’s reputation preceded itself.

Still, Max gave her a half-smile in return that she hoped didn’t look too much like a wince. “Yeah, right. And force myself to deal with all those Blackwell Bros? No, thanks,” she chuckled, though the sound rang hollow, wracked with nerves.

Kate grinned. “I can’t say I blame you for that one. I’m just glad you’re coming with me, Max. It’ll be a relief to know at least one person there.”

“Glad I can help out. I hope I’ll be a good companion, even though I’m not really into parties.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about that,” Kate answered, turning to check her outfit one last time in the mirror. “You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit, you know. You could be the life of the party and never even realize it.”

With a significant glance back at the clock, Kate raised her eyebrows and responded with a knowing smile, “Well, seeing as it’s time for us to head over, I guess we’ll find out all about that one way or another soon enough.”

Though Kate hadn’t intended it, there was an underlying menace in the statement that Max couldn’t say she exactly liked. Still, she took another deep, shaky breath to steady her racing heartbeat. They would be fine. She might even like it if she stopped dragging her feet about it.

She just hoped that the strange sense of foreboding would ebb, and that her misgivings would be proven wrong.

As it turned out, they didn’t have to drive too far off-campus to reach the party. According to the flyer, the Vortex Club had decided to host their daring little soiree at one of the many vacation homes owned by the Prescott family. Nathan Prescott himself, the esteemed family’s endlessly spoiled and privileged son, had apparently gone as far as to assure everyone that his parents wouldn’t even mind if the place got trashed (whether that was negligence on that part or just pure unfettered arrogance, she couldn’t say.) All that didn’t bode particularly well, in Max’s opinion — nothing that she’d ever heard about the Prescotts while growing up here in Arcadia Bay had exactly been positive — but she supposed she’d made a promise, and was prepared to stick it out here for as long as possible. Besides, it would be easy enough for Kate to bolt if the environment proved too overwhelming in the end.

And, Max had to begrudgingly admit to herself as the two of them pulled up to the party in Kate’s car, it really was a beautiful evening, perfect for spending some time out and about. The Prescotts’ vacation house — or, rather, mansion — loomed before them like a storybook castle, cutting an impressive but intimidating silhouette of glass and steel against the steadily darkening summer sky. Stars winked to life overhead, a mirror image of the glowing yellow and white fairy lights strung up outdoors in a canopy leading to the house’s front door. Even before getting out of the car, Max could hear the deep thrumming of the music blasting inside the house, could feel the bass buzzing in her chest like a second heartbeat. In the distance, she could hear splashing, squeals of delight and drunken, raucous laughter; apparently, by the sound of it, this house came with a pool.

“Well . . . you ready?” said Max, glancing across to where Kate sat on the driver’s side, gawking through her car’s windows at the groups of students milling about all around them. “It’s probably more fun inside than sitting around out here,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood.

At the sound of Max’s voice, Kate gave a slight jolt, as if she’d forgotten there was anyone else in the car with her. Then, she seemed to collect herself, allowing a timid little smile to grace her features. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered with a dry laugh. “Sorry for zoning out. I guess I’m just . . .”

“Nervous?”

“A little,” admitted Kate. “What if they don’t . . . like me?”

Though she felt for Kate, she really did, Max would be lying if she insisted that she didn’t feel a little bit of relief that she wasn’t the only one dealing with so much anxiety tonight. It was almost as if knowing that other people felt the way she did legitimized the worry in her mind, made her feel somehow a little less solitary while trying to walk this new, overwhelming path her life had taken since getting accepted to Blackwell.

“Kate Marsh, if they don’t like you,” said Max firmly, “then trust me, they would be sorely missing out. It would be their loss, not yours.” Of course, she barely knew Kate herself, but what could it hurt to be kind and encouraging whenever she could? “Don’t worry about all that stuff. Just . . . try to have fun tonight, okay?”

“You’re right. Well . . . I guess we should probably go in!”

Stepping out of Kate’s car and heading along the winding gravel pathway that led to the Prescott mansion front doors felt a lot like stepping into another world entirely. The comforting smell of her car’s old leather seats and generic, ocean-scented air freshener hanging from her mirror gave way to the crisp, clean aroma of the open nighttime air, diluted by the heady scent of cigarette smoke and alcohol. The noise and clamor got louder as they approached, like walking towards the gaping maw of a roaring beast. It was all Max could do to remain calm, to hold her head high and appear every bit as confident as she’d sounded while bolstering Kate’s nerves.

They made it as far as the porch before they were stopped. Just off to their right, a bouncer wearing all black and sporting muscles that could take down a small horse held out a clipboard, a piece of paper with the names of everyone that was supposed to be on the guest list tonight attached to it. The enormous double-set of front doors yawned open just beyond them, so close that Max could feel the warmth from indoors pouring out onto them, could hear the low buzz of chatter from people inside.

At the look on his face, Max’s stomach dropped. She knew that Kate was on the list for tonight, but . . . had her own name put down? Now how would she be able to get in? The Vortex Club, exclusive as they were, definitely would have a problem with some random interloper showing up and crashing things . . .

“Hold up. Names? I can’t let you in unless you’re on the list,” said the bouncer. He might have looked physically strong, but his voice gave away his youth; he was probably another college student, just like any of the rest of them. Probably getting paid a handsome fee by Nathan Prescott, if Max had her guess.

“Kate Marsh,” said Kate, “and Max Caulfield. I-I don’t know if she’s on the list, exactly, but she’s my friend, and I thought I’d let her come with me tonight as a guest—”

“Sorry. No can do. Rules are rules, and my contract says I can’t let you in if your name’s not on here.” The bouncer aimed his gaze onto Max now, hard and unrepentant. The promise of monetary reward was enough to keep away any feelings of goodwill, she supposed.

“Come on,” Max pleaded, hating the desperation in her voice. “Why not? This party looks huge enough anyway, would anyone really notice if one extra person were roaming around here?”

“Look, kid, I already said I couldn’t do anything, and I meant it the first time,” he replied, and Max tried not to be too stung by the abject condescension in his voice. “Your friend here can go in, so why don’t you just wait out here for her until she’s ready to leave?”

Max cut a quick, anxious glance in Kate’s direction, and saw that her roommate looked equally distressed. As silly as it seemed now, they hadn’t planned this far. From behind them, she could hear disquieted grumbling from other people waiting in line to get in. They were holding things up — her chest tightened at the idea of all those eyes on her, complaining about her standing here and taking up space. Max felt her face flood with heat against her will. Tears — not of sadness or anger, but plain, humbling embarrassment — stung the backs of her eyelids, and her throat felt suddenly scorched. She blinked rapidly to clear her vision, fighting against the instinct to want to just crawl in a hole and never emerge again.

Kate’s gaze kept cutting between Max and the open doorways, again and again. Max couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw something like guilt mingled with uncertainty written all over the poor girl’s face. Her stomach twisted; she hadn’t even wanted to go to this party in the first place, but Kate had been so excited, and now, just because she’d wanted someone to come along with her, she might not even get the chance to enjoy it at all. It was obvious enough to anyone who looked at her that Kate was at war with herself over it, and knowing that the girl would probably choose to be selfless and go home if Max couldn’t come along, Max decided she ought to make the decision less difficult for her.

“Kate, why don’t you head inside?” Max suggested, nodding her head encouragingly. “Seriously, don’t worry about me. I’ll work something out, I promise.”

“No way, Max, I can’t just abandon you out here by yourself while I go party—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Max reassured her. “I grew up in Arcadia Bay. I can call someone to pick me up if I don’t want to wait around. I’ll figure out something.”

With a sigh, Kate turned to head in, but then quickly turned back, hesitating long enough to look Max in the eyes and raise her eyebrows as if searching for approval.

“It’s really okay,” Max said again. “I don’t even really like parties, remember?”

After a moment, the tension loosened in Kate’s shoulders. “I promise I won’t take long, okay, Max? Oh, I seriously owe you big time. Please just promise to let me know if you need anything or want me to take you home?”

“Really, Kate, I promise.”

And with one last furtive glance back and forth, Kate disappeared into the throng of partygoers, a doe wandering into a camp full of hunters.

Max heaved a sigh to herself, preparing to turn and head back to Kate’s car. As much as she wanted to pick a fight with that smug asshole bouncer, she knew when to cut her losses. And a party at the Prescott’s vacation manor definitely wasn’t worth getting in a brawl over.

She didn’t make it off the front porch before a strangely familiar voice called, “Hey, wait up! Let her in, man!”

Max stopped, rooted to the spot with nothing but pure curiosity. Who was that, and were they really trying to stand up for her? Amid another chorus of groans from the people behind her, Max blinked in shock, stepping aside to let the people behind her in line go forward at last. As she did, she turned around and came face-to-face with whomever had spoken up.

She could hardly believe it. The blue-haired young woman from yesterday was standing on the other side of the entryway, leaning against the door with a red Solo cup in hand. Her eyes sparkled with that same wicked amusement as before, and she made a point of locking eyes directly with Max. It was difficult to not flinch or fidget under the weight and intensity of that gaze. But . . . but why had she spoken up for Max? Hadn’t she told her oh-so-kindly to fuck off the last time that they’d seen each other? Was this some kind of cruel prank in the making? Revenge for mouthing off to her when they’d run into each other on campus?

“And why should I do that?” said the bouncer, barely even looking up from his clipboard as he checked other people and let them in.

“Don’t worry, dude, she’s cool,” said the mysterious girl, winking quickly at Max. “I can vouch for her.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten into this party either, if it weren’t for Rachel Amber’s help, remember?”

The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Uh, okay, well then I’ll just get Rachel to vouch for her, too. I’m sure she’d be happy to. Maybe I could even score a date with her for you. You never know.” Her eyebrows raised speculatively.

This, funnily enough, did seem to grab the bouncer’s attention. He paused in his thorough examination of the clipboard, lifting his eyes to meet the girl’s. Skepticism shone in his features, but he almost sounded as if he wanted to believe it as he said, “For real? No bullshit?”

“Oh, yeah, no bullshit at all — Rachel’s totally into guys like you,” the blue-haired girl replied, and though the bouncer didn’t seem to pick up on it, Max had the distinct feeling he was being made fun of. She put a hand quickly to her mouth, trying to stifle an incredulous laugh that seemed to rise in her from out of nowhere.

The bouncer gave a harsh sigh, but at long last, it seemed that he was willing to relent. Waving his arm quickly in the direction of the front doors, he grumbled, “Okay, okay, fine. Go in. Just . . . don’t tell anyone, alright? And don’t cause trouble. Just leave me alone.” He then aimed a questioning glance at the strange girl. “And you’ll . . . talk to Rachel for me, yeah?”

“For sure, man,” the girl replied, but it could not have possibly sounded more exasperated. 

And before Max could think to say anything else, the blue-haired girl had seized her by the arm and all but dragged her into the house, deep into the belly of the party.

They strode side-by-side in awkward silence for a bit, Max struggling to wind her way through the tight throngs of people and match the other girl’s long-legged, purposeful gait. As she tried to keep up with her mystery companion, she did her best to scan her surroundings, to look for Kate, but it was so hard to tell anyone apart. The rooms of Nathan Prescott’s enormous house had all been darkened for the occasion, lit by special glowing purple and red lights here and there that certainly didn’t help with picking out peoples’ features in a crowd. The music was even louder in here, so grand and booming that it almost felt as if her entire self had been swallowed up by it.

The blue-haired girl was the one to break the silence. “Uh, you’re welcome, by the way.”

Max scoffed, blown away by the sheer presumption in such a statement. “Th-thanks,” she stammered, too surprised to even muster up a witty retort. She tried not to bristle at the amusement on the girl’s face. Instead, she asked, “Are you really going to make your friend go on a date with that asshole?”

The girl snorted, as if the thought alone were indeed rich. “Fuck no. But don’t let it disturb your conscience, he deserves to be lied to. That idiot loves getting little power trips whenever he can. He needs to be taken down a peg or two, if you ask me.” And then, with a touch of smugness, she added, “Plus, I know for a fact that he’s not exactly Rachel’s type.”

Caught up in the whirling colors and the senseless, chaotic energy of the party churning around her, it was easy to be distracted from her total confusion. For a few strange, dizzying moments, it felt perfectly natural to be standing side by side with this complete stranger who had insulted her to her face not too long ago, acting like nothing had ever happened. Maybe the girl didn’t remember her? But then, why would she have helped Max get into the party in the first place? She seemed to be a walking contradiction — and seemed to live for the mind-twisting that it caused.

“Why did you help me, anyway?” said Max, trying to raise her voice over the music, thrumming so hard that she felt it in her bones, could see it shaking the pictures in frames on the walls of the house. “You probably have way better things to do than rescue hopeless wannabes like me. Especially if your friend is here with you.”

She seemed to consider this for a moment. Then, with a shrug, she simply concluded, “I don’t know!” She laughed, reckless and free, and Max wondered what it was like to like so utterly without inhibition, completely untethered to the ground below you. “I guess . . . you just seem cool, okay? I remember you from yesterday, you know. I can tell you’ve been wondering about it ever since you saw me tonight.”

Max gritted her teeth, instantly mortified with herself. Was she really that easy to read?

“You were right, by the way,” the girl said. “To call me out the way you did. I was acting like a dick. I’m sorry about that.” Though Max might have imagined it, she thought she saw something strangely close to vulnerability flash across her companion’s face for just a fleeting instant, gone just as quickly as it had arrived. “I’d been having a pretty shitty day, but . . . that’s no excuse.”

Max blinked, utterly surprised by the admission. To look at the young woman before her was to know that humility must not come easily to her; though she barely knew her, Max had to assume that her apologizing at all had taken a great deal of self-coaching, and she had to admire her for that much. The thought was enough to bring a wry smile to her lips, one she hoped would let the other girl know she was forgiven.

“I really should have taken a picture like you said,” Max joked. “You looked ridiculous, stomping around like that in front of a vending machine.”

“I didn’t stomp!”

“Really?” Max playfully pretended to think about it. “Because I’m pretty sure I saw stomping.”

“Looks like you need to get your eyes checked. Especially if you’re a fine arts student. Which . . . I’m assuming you are. Right?” The girl looked her up and down, and Max refused to shrink from the cool, clever assessment in her gaze.

“Yeah. I am. Visual and Performing Arts, concentration in Photography.” She’d had to recite it so many times now, for so many different icebreaker events with so many different people, that the words rolled off her tongue without her even thinking about it. “I guess I’m pretty obvious, huh. So, uh — do you go to Blackwell, too, then?”

At this, the other girl scoffed, as if the very idea were hilarious. “No way. I’m just from the area. Rachel’s a student there, though, so I sometimes hang out with her crowd.” Her eyes narrowed, and she muttered, half to herself, “Trust me, Blackwell and I wouldn’t get along.”

Somehow Max had the feeling the strange girl was telling the truth about that. In fact, Max wondered if there were any place that could handle all of her, could hold her in and tame her when she seemed destined to break out and dare to be bigger than any one tiny place.

“That’s too bad, I guess,” Max said. “It would’ve been nice to know at least one person when I start classes on Monday. Except my roommate, anyway. She’s the only person I’ve really talked to so far.” For whatever reason, the confession didn’t feel quite as embarrassing with her voice half-swallowed as it was by the pounding music and the laughter and delighted screams from the party. “Uh, that reminds me — I told Kate I would find her after I got in. I don’t want to leave her behind, I should probably . . . you know, get going and all.”

As if she, too, had only just remembered that she had a friend to get back to as well, the blue-haired girl gave a jolt. With a shake of her head, she answered, “Oh, yeah, totally. Me too. I don’t want to keep Rachel waiting. Sorry for holding you up.” And to her credit, she did seem genuinely disappointed to have to leave.

And as the girl turned to leave, Max found herself seized by a sudden impulse. If it were possible, it almost felt like fate itself had grabbed her arm and yanked her stubbornly forward, a thread tied around her waist refusing to relax its grip, just so she could stay in this moment a bit longer. Like she couldn’t turn away, even if she wanted to.

“W-well, hey — wait a second! I-I know you don’t go to Blackwell,” Max stammered, feeling decidedly awkward now that she had to explain herself for stalling, “but you still live in Arcadia Bay, so . . . maybe there’s a chance we’ll see each other around, you know? We could hang out sometime.”

Max’s stomach clenched as she watched the blue-haired girl’s expression carefully for any sign that she might react poorly to the suggestion; ultimately, she would just be grateful if she wasn’t laughed at. But there wasn’t anything unkind on her face — if anything, there was just the mildest surprise, maybe even a bit of humor in those unreadable eyes. After a moment, the girl gave her an endearingly crooked little smile, and reached in her pocket to pull out a cell phone.

“Why the hell not, right?” she said. “Sounds like a good idea to me. Here, put your number in my contacts for me.” She passed Max the phone, the smile on her face broadening, turning softer in its authenticity. “And I never did catch your name, by the way.”

When she had finished entering her name and number, Max said, “Max Caulfield. Um — what about you? I feel weird that it’s taken me this long to ask your name,” she said with a sheepish laugh.

“It’s Chloe. Chloe Price.”

Chloe . Max had to admit, the name suited her. The rightness of it settled onto her like a warm blanket.

Before she could take the time to process it further, Chloe interrupted her addled thoughts by extending her hand for a shake. “Well, Max Caulfield, if we don’t happen to run into each other again tonight before you leave, I’ll be sure to text you, okay? That way, you’ll have my number too.” They shook hands, as if sealing some secret pact. “Promise me you’ll party wild tonight, okay, hippie?”

Max laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, sure,” she said, the thought of herself partying in any capacity bizarre enough that she nearly rolled her eyes even imagining it. Still, she found herself saying, “I promise.”