runawayymax

[runawayymax]

Max revealed what she was there for when she slammed a box of bar soap on the counter, "My wheels are squeaking." Soap could clean and lubricate, which one of the two should solve the problem. She didn't anticipate Steve knowing or caring enough about skateboards to need to know that. She left him with no further explanation. Her eyes drifted away from Steve's face and to the ceiling where the store speakers emitted his music. She made a face. Wait, and Steve was leaving messages on her machine? "Did you know it's pretty rude to play bad music in front of me?" She looked back down at him. "Seriously, Steve, what is this shit?" Max tended not to care for the stylings of Milli Vanilli and other pop groups. And Luther? Well, some Vandross reminded her of her Mom. "I didn't get your messages." It wasn't a lie, Mom was either on the phone all of the time talking to some new skeeze from The Hideaway or deleting messages when she was too drunk to remember she even did it. Rather than explain that, she snarked at Steve, "I was out. Busy doing drugs and having unprotected sex. You know, the usual." More seriously, she did ask "Did you...need something?" Max couldn't imagine what a phone call between herself and Steve would look like other than more annoying fretting. She had a lot of respect for Steve though, and the least she could do was try a belated follow up. Four years ago, Steve was the first semi-adult in her life who dared to stand up to Billy. She hadn't forgotten. Steve Harrington was a certified bozo, but he'd shown time and time again he was a good person. Her knuckles tapped against the hard top of the checkout counter as she pretended to think about it, "Let me guess..." Max baited Steve, "You're going to let me borrow your car for the first day of school?"

who: steve + @runawayymax where: melvald's general store what: it's the back-to-school sale and steve is wearing a silly apron

Steve's long-standing theory of Melvald's being a front for a money laundering scheme, or international opium trade, seemed especially plausible during the annual back-to-school sale. Left virtually alone, no manager in sight (had Steve accidentally been promoted?) and no helping hands save for his own. Sometimes one of his co-workers would show up out of the blue, assist him for a couple of hours during the rush, and then disappear into the back to perform unknown tasks. How was this store staying afloat? And hadn't Steve been hired as a stock boy originally? He'd have to consult his contract once he got home.

By late afternoon the crowd storming Melvald's had luckily dispersed, and Steve was more than happy to ring up the last customer in line. Another couple of hours and he was out of here. Another couple hours of minding the store which would soon be deserted again, a symptom of the death of small-town America, slipping out the back for a cigarette, maybe. Getting a headstart on some ... stocking up.

Really, Mr. or Mrs. Melvald could count themselves lucky that Starcourt had burned to the ground, underground Russian base and all. Investors looking to build their shopping palaces tended to shy away from towns rumoured to be cursed. He'd attended to some business behind the counter, namely switching from in-store radio to a couple of tapes he'd brought in with him (one of the perks of being left alone for a job you never actually signed up to do, not to this extent at least), his back turned to the store as he heard the bells jingle. "One second, be right with you." Just one jingle, he figured he'd have a moment before being bombarded with questions about the speifics of the sale, or the make and model of whatever pencils they had in store. Another moment - the store's speakers switched from Milli Vanilli's 'Girl You Know It's True' to Luther Vandross. Pleased with his work, Steve spun around on his heel with a smile. "Wh- Max?" He blinked, perplexed, and had answered the question in his head before it left his lips: "What're you doing here?" Beginner's mistake, never give her the power to flatten you with a witty quip. Let's try this again - albeit glad to see her, he cleared his throat, forced his smile into a frown. "You know, it's actually considered pretty rude not to call someone back when they've left you, like, twenty messages on your machine."

[runawayymax]

𝐖𝐇𝐎: max mayfield & @m0uthbreather 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: whatever street you take from mainstreet to mike's house 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: el is the founding force of the hawkins pride parade

Eleven was her best friend. Figures her first girl best friend would be some formerly powered, strange girl from a lab. The world might've been new to El in more ways than most people could understand, but she always got what Max was feeling. Or trying to say. She was pretty sure they called that emotional intelligence, and El certainly made up where she was lacking. She was a one of kind person, the best humanity had to offer amongst all it's bleakness. They had moved through monsters and loss together, spent weekend after weekend in each other's bedrooms, if there was something Max wanted to share, El would be the first to know. Sure the nature of their relationship had changed, but none of those things had. Just because Max was helping El, like, explore and learn more about herself, didn't make them not friends. Max did worry sometimes if she was letting lines between curiosity and pleasure blur. She liked kissing El in those secret late night moments, or cuddling during a movie, or whatever. She'd talked with El over and over about self-discovery and exploration, so surely it'd registered with her. Or at least Max hoped it had. So today, when Eleven grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together and all, in the middle of the block party, Max kind of panicked. While she'd never kissed a girl before El, it wasn't all that hard for her to quietly accept that she liked engaging physically with guys and girls like that. Emotional engagement was another story. Max held it for a while, like it was just some friend thing they did, and made a mental note to bring it up later. It was later. "Hey? El?" Max broke the silence of the darkening street, extending her hand between them. She waited for the other to take it. "I'm sorry about earlier, when...you know." Last thing she ever wanted was to make El feel bad. Max had long worked through issues with her identity, coming to accept who she was with a badge of honor. But she wasn't ignorant, or naive, she knew the world they lived in. "It's just like, there are some assholes out in the world who don't like girls and girls together. Or guys and guys. Especially in Hawkins." Max lamented, "I wish it wasn't like that, but it is. So I guess I just got worried that it wasn't safe." Max's grip on El's hand tightened. Vulnerability and honesty didn't come easily to her, not in the slightest, but Eleven deserved that from her, so she would do her best to give it. Despite her discomfort, she clarified, "We're not like....a couple or anything, right?"

[runawayymax]

Mike? Excited? About both of them? Noted. Wheeler had preempted her protest which made Max frown. She seriously doubted whatever spots he had picked out constituted as cool. Curious now, she asked, "What spots?" And as she continued, she watched Mike's expression carefully, "I just gave Will a similar offer, don't want to accidentally take him to the same places, you know." 'Other than you.' Mike's words flung at her like a ball to the face. It wasn't all that unfair granted her extended absence, but it was another reminder that Mike still considered her as different, other, separate from them. His opinion rarely held so much weight, but it made Max wonder if he was right at all, if she didn't belong with the party. She retaliated loudly, "I think if El wanted to join Hellfire she would tell you. Let her make her own choices about things before you say anything, Mike. Like, have you ever even tried asking her if she likes Dungeons and Dragons?" Max's ranting didn't end there, and she continued, "I was planning on showing her around, actually. So you can just focus on Will." She wasn't having a discussion about it! "Seriously? Why would it be weird for you?" Leave it to Mike to be so obtuse she had to literally spell it out. "You're always weird about Will." Smiley around him, nicer to him than anyone else, and extremely protective. Yeah. Max had noticed. She didn't want Mike to feel too backed into a corner though, not about something like that. She amended her sentence, "And El." He was protective of her too. It seemed everyone, other than Max, had that luxury. It was only when he got righteous about El it pissed her off. "What? It's a fair question."

he wasn't sure if that was meant to be kind or not, but knowing max it probably was. he knew her well enough to know that her soft side could easily be mistaken for her gruff one, and it all depended on the context of the conversation. the fact that they were having a conversation at all without trying to bite each other's heads off was, in itself, rather incredible. as she continued, he felt his outward demeanor change. he didn't find himself all that interesting, considering himself so average that his personality bordered on dull, but he could always talk his friends up. he was consistently their biggest hype man, forever seeing the best in all of them (present company excluded), and he hoped they knew that. "oh, i'm so psyched," he answered, a genuine smile plastered onto his face as he thought of how their last schoolyear would go. "will has pretty much seen hawkins high already, but i plan to show him the best spots to hang out. spare me your disbelief, we definitely have different ideas on what the best spots are," he said before she could even scoff at him. "and as for el, i'm hoping i can get her in on hellfire too but i think that's a long shot. i'm still excited to show her all around the school. i hope she can find some friends besides the party that can protect her. other than you, of course." he knew they were close and that max would keep her safe, but they wouldn't be able to stick by each other all day, every day. there would be times when el was alone, and he hated to think of her getting picked on or pushed around. something max had said caught his ear, though, and he looked back over at her. "why would it be weird for me?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed as though he really didn't know what she was talking about. which he didn't, to be fair. "i think it's gonna be awesome."

[runawayymax]

The thought of an overcrowded pool by itself made Max's expression curl up. She loved the sun, and swimming, but no amount of chlorine could disinfect people's sweat and sunscreen leeching into the water. Not to mention the dead bugs floating in the water. Yuck. She preferred going out to Lover's Lake, or even better, a real beach. Which Hawkins, of course, didn't have. Plus there were also a handful of memories backdropped by the Hawkins Community Pool Max didn't care to revisit. The masses could have closing day at the pool all to themselves. "Nothing like getting overcharged at the snack shack and dunking your head in piss water, am I right?" Whoever was in charge of planning city events should maybe start spacing them out. She didn't know if she believed Nancy that was all she had to report on, but she didn't care enough to pry further. Hawkins had gone back to being a normal, quaint town. And maybe that was for the best. Something Max could be thankful for or whatever. Max always thought Nancy was cool. First with her guns, then with getting out of Hawkins for college, seeing the world. But some of these questions? Not cool. She would have to poke at Jonathan to see if Nancy had a history of being tone deaf like her brother. "I'm here alone." For now she was, but she had a point to make! "Is that a problem?" She narrowed her eyes at Nancy Wheeler, "Something worth reporting about?"

Despite her natural slip into sisterly scolding, it was hard to keep a small smile off her lips around Max, who always seemed to find the humor in even the bleakest of moments. Nancy stepped in the line of sight between her and the vendor, if for no other reason than to avoid the trouble of having to apologize for being a passive witness to petty theft.

With a shrug, Nancy nodded her head for Max to follow as she continued her walk toward the end of the block. "Honestly? Not much. The most noteworthy comment I received was that the pool was so crowded, they stopped letting people in, which explains why it's impossible to find a parking spot at this hour." It certainly wasn't newsworthy, not even as exciting as there being a new janitor like Max had fictionalized.

But, it was better than what they were both used to. They should've been glad there was nothing more threatening than finding parking on Main Street nowadays. Still, it served as the reminder why Nancy had wanted to get out in the first place, and had her wondering why she'd ever come back. "Speaking of togetherness, you're not here alone, are you?"

[runawayymax]

To say Max was skeptical was an understatement. It read clearly on her face, "I don't know if i trust your definition of cool." Again she asked him, "What shoe is it? C'mon, I won't laugh." Max might. She was partial to vans for herself, but she'd had the same pair since freshman year, because as Lucas was demonstrating cool shoes were expensive. But vans, no matter how beat up, were better than some generic, canvas, shoe. "As long as they're not like, Nike Cortez's, everyone has those." Lucas had conformed enough, hadn't he? Last thing Max wanted was to see him in a shoe every other boy owned. "I heard the Court Forces are cool. Good for fashion and basketball." She teased. From her spot on her board, she did try to shove Lucas, but he ducked out of reach. Their playful bickering was short lived with Lucas' 'What? The Cheerleaders?' God, he was the densest boy alive. "Being popular. A Hawkins Tiger Golden Boy." It seemed insufferable from the outside perspective, and rather than asking 'Do you like it?' Max had settled on 'How can you stand it?!' Max wasn't sure she was going to like whatever answer Lucas had to offer. He'd changed and so had she. Missing the metamorphosis was her own doing, could she really be mad at his answer? She probably still would be. She pushed off the ground twice, zooming in front of Lucas, but still looking back at him every once and a while to make conversation, "Mike's?" Her first thought was Is El going? But she wasn't going to straight up ask that. "I mean, probably. Will is holding some school supplies for me, so i have to get those at some point." She couldn't show a whole lot of enthusiasm for hanging at Mike's but at least they'd all be together. She'd spent so many years saying sure to Lucas' invites while knowing she wouldn't show up, the least she could give him in this instance was honesty. "You're so cheesy." Max shook her head in disapproval, though a smile silently crept up her cheeks, "I think this year is going to be exactly the same."

"They're... both, I guess?" Lucas attempted to answer her question. He furrowed his brow, informing her, "They're basketball shoes but, like, cool ones." Lucas suddenly felt embarrassed about his shoes, like he'd just admitted to Max that he cared what he looked like-- which he did, but he didn't want to seem like a try-hard. That was the thing about popularity. As far as Lucas could tell, nobody was naturally cool-- but it was decidedly uncool to seem like you were trying. It was all so... confusing. Thank God his real friends didn't seem to care about any of it.

Lucas laughed at Max's impression, tilting his head back and wondering for a moment if things were settling between them-- if they were inching towards that first August. "That wasn't half bad," he promised. Lucas grinned at her and preemptively ducked out of the way so she couldn't smack him as he laid it on thick, "I'm serious, all you need is the uniform!" He shrugged at her question, meeting her gaze and earnestly asking, "What? The cheerleaders?"

He understood they weren't exactly Max's speed, but Lucas didn't see a problem with them. He honestly didn't pay them much mind at all-- it was best to leave that to the rest of the team. Lucas was more concerned with getting his free-throw percentage up.

"You're going to Mike's after, right?" he asked, tone bordering precariously between hopeful and nonchalant. He'd learned in the last three years of relative radio silence from Max that there was a fine line between what she considered stalking and inviting. The trick was to not apply too much pressure, but still make it clear she was welcome. Lucas was never very good at achieving that balance-- he didn't like how close it was to lying. If he wanted Max there, which he almost always did, he'd say that.

A frown tugged at his smile, but Lucas was nothing if not dedicated to finding some kind of silver lining-- even if it wasn't one he was fully convinced of, himself. "All we can do is enjoy it now, right?" he flashed Max a brave smile, promising her, "This year will be different. Good different." He'd do everything in his power to make sure of it.

[runawayymax]

Max was seeing Chrissy Cunningham in an entirely new light. Sure, she'd heard stories about her when she was in middle school, popular and kind, like some fairytale princess. Outside of that, her only context for Chrissy were gross comments from Billy. But this? This was something else. Max didn't know if she should consider the calculating calm from her guidance counselor as impressive, or threatening. Maybe both. Chrissy's eyes wandered like she was keeping guard of something, off in the distance. It made Max wonder what and what had happened in Chrissy's past that led her to land on guidance counselor for the rest of her life. Max didn't know how to respond about the Barbeque. On principal, she thought things like that were stupid. But in the quietest parts of herself, she liked the togetherness of being with her friends, even if it was at Mike's house. She couldn't just say that though. Still, being in the Wheeler Household was stability in her eyes. Even without Ted, Karen had it all together. Max wished her Mom was like that. Without realizing, her gaze began to drift off to the booths, just like Chrissy's had. "Well I know people who are going, so that will be nice." Max began to spin a wheel on her board. One of the last school counselors was always prodding about Max's friendships, encouraging her to like, open up or whatever. Naturally, she stuck her heels in the sand more. Telling Chrissy now that she was meeting up with people got all of that out of the way, establishing the fact she did have friends, sooner rather than later. She softened slightly as they talked about skateboarding. Max was actively aware whatever tactic Chrissy used was working. She kind of hated that. Her nose scrunched in disapproval, and a shake of the head, "No, definitely don't clap." A singular moment of peace was abruptly ended by the spiel Max knew too well. She made no effort to mask her disdain and groaned, "Can this step into my office bull wait until the school year actually starts?" It made Max feel like such a freak, to be that kid, perpetually hounded by the nicely dressed woman with a checklist. Classmates noticed that stuff and immediately made assumptions. It was the worst. Max wasn't eager to go back to that seeing as Chrissy didn't seem she would be all that different. She exhaled deeply, trying to shove a final nail in the coffin, "If I needed something, I would ask. Thanks."

Chrissy took the hit without flinching. She wasn't sure what reaction she was supposed to give. Did Max want to see Chrissy's eye twitch? See if she'd back off?So, she just met Max's sarcasm with a soft, patient look that could’ve come straight from the therapy books she’d been devouring all summer.

Unfortunately for the two of them, it would take a lot more than to run Chrissy off.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, nodding once. “That was fair.” Not defensive. Not snarky. She adjusted the journal under her arm again, fingers smoothing the frayed ribbon like it was a nervous tic. “For what it’s worth, no, I didn’t think you were off committing crimes. I just…” Her voice trailed for a second, eyes flicking to the row of booths ahead, then back to Max. “I never even liked it when my parents would drag me there. It wasn't an insult."

When Max dismissed the school year, Chrissy almost smiled. Not because she found it funny, but because that casual shrug said more than Max probably realized. That same instinct to downplay the hard stuff, to act like it was fine because saying it wasn’t felt like weakness. Chrissy knew that game. And then, blessedly, Max gave her an opening with the kickflip comment.

Chrissy’s face broke into something warmer. Something close to an actual laugh. “Only if it’s sloppy,” she quipped back at her. "Otherwise, I’ll pretend I didn’t see it. Might even earn you a clap or two.”

Maybe it was too much, too forceful, but if Chrissy had found a semblance of an in, she was going to use it. So, she couldn't help when the next words tumbled out of her mouth. "I think you should come see me sometime." It's not like Max had much an option, Chrissy assumed. Her record had proved to be more extensive than a good chunk of the kids in Hawkins, but maybe if it seemed like Max's idea, there would be more of a breakthrough. "Seriously. I mean, you can literally get away with ditching class," which shouldn't be the standard, but honestly? Chrissy couldn't remember much that Hawkins High had taught her academically. "Just - you didn't hear that from me."

[runawayymax]

Jonathan's lack of further resistance allowed relief to flood her body. Her plan for the button was a-go, and guilt free! Max would take that win. Once again, the conversation proved that, like always, she was right! Most people she called friends didn't have clean records, not with all they'd seen. So her the button pin? Small potatoes. She rubbed it in, just a little, "That's what I thought." Max smiled to herself, faint, satisfied. Her eyes followed Jonathan's raised hand to the church where he'd photographed for a wedding that was probably full of stuffy, boring people, who likely weren't even in love with each other. Once she'd gotten her fill of the church she looked back up at the other, "Rough. Was it good pay at least?" It would be so awesome if Jonathan whipped out a thick wad of cash in that moment. Wasn't likely, but she could only hope he had the much. For the sake of him being a good person. Max was hungry. And while it felt like ripping off a cuticle to accept what she called a pity meal, it was better than staring at an empty fridge with a growling stomach. She'd learned by now to take offers when she could get them. Plus, it was just Jonathan. "Yeah, I could eat." Her eyes wandered up the street, "I think my Mom's working a shift right now, she could probably get us a discount." As much as she didn't want to pop in and chat with her Mom, Max wouldn't contribute nothing either and a family discount was better than the $1.50 she had in her pocket. And even if she did offer it, she also learned by now that Jonathan wouldn't take it. She set her board down and hopped on, gesturing after the older boy, "C'mon!"

Jonathan blinked at the pin in her hand, then at Max’s face. All sharp edges and bright defiance. If Max was expecting him to call her out again, he didn’t. He just scratched the side of his nose. “Yeah, okay.” He tried not to smile. Failed a little. Jonathan has, in fact, done worse. No one was counting the number of laws he’d broken while trying to save his brother from, well, literal death.  

When Max clocked the state of him, Jonathan glanced down at himself too, like he hadn’t realized what he looked like until she said it. “Wedding gig,” Jonathan said simply, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the church. “Hired me for some portraits, reception stuff…” He scratched his jaw, the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “I got paid cash, though”

He shrugged. Something quiet and fond in the gesture. Casual, but not careless. “You hungry?” There was a diner close by. Probably better than lukewarm funnel cake and whatever mystery meat was still hanging around some of these heat lamps at this time of day. “I hear there’s good burgers at one of the new joints.” He added, then looked at her sidelong. A bit of restrained teasing now. “If you promise not to steal the napkin holder.”

[runawayymax]

"Jeez, Mike, ever hear of a joke?" Max scoffed. Mike Wheeler was far from cheerleader material and she even agreed that he was as uncoordinated as a giraffe. On principal alone though, Max couldn't simply take the easy route with him. It was the age old clicking in her bones telling her she had to argue with Mike, coming to her as naturally as floating on her back in a swimming pool, "You know if you and your school spirit really wanted to, you could get Lucas to pull some strings and get you on the team. Like, as a benchwarmer at least." She'd shell out $100 to see Michael Wheeler as a basketball player. Seriously? Even Mike was excited in some twisted sense. She was just waiting for someone to come along and agree that the last week or so had been chalk full of impending dread. Merely stepping into school made Max's stomach twist and turn. Then the thought of what followed when the year came to it's end sent her into a spiral, deep and dark like a well. Lose lose. She adjusted her skateboard beneath her arm and gripped it tighter as they walked, "Good for you." She forced a pleasantry, then balanced it out with another jab, "What classes are you taking? AP D&D? Whining 311?" It was uncalled for, but Mike's reluctant gratitude about the keychain shrouded her with a lingering sense of spite. Plus, it was difficult to make nice with Mike when Max had spent the last however many years hearing the good, the bad, and the ugly from Eleven. El, who Max cherished. El, who's bed Max spent night after night in. What kind of...friend would she be if she didn't hold a little bit of resentment for his best friend's ex? Mike didn't make it easier on himself by having Fort Knox built up around him and his friendship. Then again, Max wasn't all that different. Still, it made her feel thirteen again. Max cleared her throat, boldly continuing, "So are you excited about Will and El starting school with us?" If there was anything she was looking forward to, it was that. But more importantly, Max was dying to get something out of Mike in regards to their respective best friends. She had a hunch he wasn't going to be honest, so she tried to preempt it by intentionally riling him up, "Or is it gonna be weird for you?" Either way, Max was going to get a reaction! Or she was trying to.

if their entire interaction had ended right there, mike wouldn't have been too broken up about it. he had acquired the keychain he wanted, she had proven once again that she was definitely cooler than he was, and finally they could go their separate ways and continue pretending like the other didn't exist. he was fairly certain that he was the only one pretending in that scenario, however, and he realized that the second that she went on to walk and talk. she must have known that she could get a rise out of him easily, her teasing tone seeping into his bones like the heat of the late summer sun. was it her fault for being purposely annoying, or was it his own fault for allowing her to get under his skin like it was nothing? probably a healthy mix of the two, if he had to guess. all he had to do was turn around and walk the other way; let her talk to herself until she noticed he wasn't even with her. he wasn't that big of an asshole, though. usually. "is that your way of saying you think i could make it onto the cheerleading squad?" he asked, falling into step beside her as he gave her a grin that was far too cocky to be taken seriously. "i think i have the height to play basketball, but that's about all i have. i'm as graceful as a baby giraffe so i don't think they'd want me to even try out," he admitted. among other reasons, he was sure. the nerdy kid didn't typically do a heel turn and become a star jock overnight. he would leave stunts like that to lucas. his grin faded and silence followed. sometimes, rarely, he wondered what his gripe with max really was. being the new kid all those years ago wasn't a crime, but he'd acted like it was. perhaps it was how quickly his friends had taken to her, even will. she had quite literally zoomed her way into their hearts, but apparently his had an impenetrable wall surrounding it for reasons he didn't want to think too hard about. "and for the record, yeah, kinda. i do have school spirit in the sense that this is my last year and i can't wait to get it over with," he said, answering seriously for a moment. "any keychain would have worked, but i guess i felt drawn to the lion this time. let's not look into it too closely."

[runawayymax]

"Green." Max answered instantly, then after some thought, added, "Or black. Whatever you have really." She didn't want to make too much of a stink about it, as long as she didn't end up with some flashy Mead Critter Sitter folder, she'd be fine. "Thanks again." For hooking her up with the supplies, and for storing them. If she were to carry them around the block party, they'd inevitably get smacked out of her hands like they did to nerds in some corny teen romcom. She had to make a concerted effort not to allow her jaw to drop at the revelation. Joyce got a job at Hawkins High? Sure, it made sense or whatever. However Max anticipated it being a problem for her. Other staff, she could write off, but Joyce catching her ditching? That seemed almost impossible to wriggle out of. She stayed nonchalant, propping a hand on the table and asking, "Oh really? What's she doing?" She cast Will another look, one that privately asked And how do we feel about that? "Give yourself more credit than that, Will." Surely, he knew there was more than the stupid Hellfire Club. Maybe not? "Orrr, take a look at one of your brother's yearbooks. You'll be fine. You're friendly and get good grades, that's probably why they picked you." She assured sincerely. Max rarely felt lucky, more the opposite if anything. But in this instance, yeah, she was. She shrugged in agreement. Max had hoped maybe Will's excitement would rub off on her, but no luck. She wasn't going to dunk on him for it though, "Yeah. It'll be nice to have you and El at lunch and stuff. I don't know if I can take another six months of Dustin groaning about student council by myself." Still, she was unconvinced. It seemed everyone was excited about senior year, except her. "Hey, speaking of, are you gonna join any clubs? Other than Hellfire."

"Yeah, definitely," Will nodded, tucking the coins into the money bag he'd ben left in charge of. He already knew he was going to slip her some of the nice gel pens too, and if she asked, he'd say his mom insisted. "Uh.. any color preference?" Will asked, glancing at the notebooks. It didn't seem like the kind of thing Max would particularly care about, but sometimes her and Mike's opinionated streaks reared in the places Will least expected. Better to be safe than sorry!

"I guess that's fair," Will compromised, gleam in his eye at this distinctly Max version of tenderness. He doubted the offer extended to the rest of the party except El. Maybe Lucas, if they weren't fighting. "You know my mom's working there now? At school?" Will asked. "I hope your spot's really good."

That was the other thing about Max-- as quick as she was to poke fun at everybody else, he'd never once felt like she was making fun of him, not even now. Will threw his hands out in a shrug, "I know. I don't know what I'm supposed to tell this poor kid-- join a club? What clubs? I don't know any clubs other than Hellfire." He huffed, half-laughing, and shook his head in agreement with Max, "You're lucky."

Will turned his attention back to the table, sorting pens this time as he considered Max's question. They had a sort of unspoken mutual agreement not to pry-- Will had seen how the Hawkins moms descend on Max like a wild horde, desperate to help that poor girl-- and Max had likely seen the same with him. "I guess just seeing everyone every day. And like... getting all the jokes. Not having to be told stuff after the fact, you know?"

[runawayymax]

Max would've assumed Mrs.Wheeler gave Mike some spending money, but the way he was attempting to barter said otherwise. But divorce was bitch, she knew firsthand and twice over, she wasn't going to pry about his inability to purchase. And even if most days Mike Wheeler quite literally boiled her brain down into goo with his...everything, this particular situation was one she could lend a hand with. Plus, maybe, just for a day, it would motivate Mike to treat her like an actual person. A friend. She debated withholding the tiger keychain for leverage, but ultimately coughed it up. "Sure you would have, Mike. You totally had him on the ropes." Max jeered. "Oh wow, not entirely terrible, I'm flattered." She made no effort to mask her rolling eyes and continued walking in the opposite direction of the booth. They were supposed to be friends, but even before that haunting Summer, hell, during it, the two of them struggled to categorize each other as such. Max didn't joke around with him like Lucas and Dustin. And she didn't confide in him like Eleven or Will. Now, she was trying to pick back up a relationship with Mike she'd never had in the first place. One he seemed completely uninterested in maintaining. Mike Wheeler was the most difficult person in the world. But still, she tried. "So you have like, school spirit now?" Max referenced the tiger she'd stolen, but that was about as far as her small talk skills extended. She was much more comfortable poking and jabbing. And Mike? He made it so easy to do. With mock excitement, she gasped, asking, "No way. You joined the cheerleading squad? No, let me try again, the basketball team?"

there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that mike hated more than price gouging in the name of an event. well, alright, that wasn't entirely true. he could think of about a hundred other things that were probably worse, but in the context of the situation, this was the worst. as if the heat of the day and the looming reality that school was starting all too soon wasn't bad enough, there he was attempting to spend the last of his hard-earned allowance on nonsense at the block party. it really was nonsense, too. he wanted an interesting little keychain to hang on the zipper of his backpack this year. nothing crazy, but something to emit that he was cool and of-age for the first time in his life. he'd spotted the wood-carved lion at the vendor's booth and had made a beeline for it. it was exactly what he had been looking for, and it was even in the image of their beloved mascot. what could be more fitting? twenty dollars, apparently. that was insane. he knew it was carved by hand rather than being something mass-produced, but that was a ridiculous request in his eyes. plus, he only had fifteen. he didn't think that dropping the price down by five dollars was too much, but they were making a real big stink about how it was one of a kind (despite the fact that it clearly wasn't) and how not many other people in town would have one. yeah, no shit, 'cause no one else in their right mind would pay twenty bucks for it either, he thought. that was when max came up and instantly made him feel like an idiot for even bothering. she was good at doing that. he watched as she took charge of the situation, the vendor heading off to look for someone that definitely hadn't stolen from them...only for her to steal from them. he held in the eyeroll he felt coming on as she returned with the keychain, additionally holding back the smile he wanted to portray at getting his trinket. that did not scream cool. "i would've talked him down eventually," he muttered, pocketing the lion and looking up at her with obvious annoyance in his eyes. something like gratefulness managed to mix itself into the look as well, though he'd tried (and failed) to fight it. "but thanks. that was not entirely terrible of you."

[runawayymax]

Chrissy seemed nice from afar or whatever, but that didn't change the fact that she was just like all the other counselors. Best of intentions, worst of actions. Max's face fell into a scowl, "Oh really? Where did you expect me to be, Miss Cunningham?" The question dripped with sarcasm and contempt, "Getting high off illegal Marijuana? Egging a house? Really, tell me!" If she was tired of anything these days, it was the ball and chain of perception around her ankle. It was rare for Max to receive the benefit of the doubt. She'd had far too many frustrated outbursts against teachers at school and gotten into trouble too many times for fun. She carried that weight of her temper, and it's consequences, wherever she went. Some adults, if Chrissy could even be called that, thought that meant she was a certain type of person, but people weren't boxes to be ticked. She wasn't that to her friends at least. They were presumptuous teenage boys at first, sure, but none of them, not even Mike, tried to shove her into a cage she didn't belong in. And then came the pity. That grating, apologetic tone in someone's voice she knew all too well. No, she didn't want to be at school, but Max seriously doubted the former Queen of Hawkins High was capable of grasping half of why that is. Through a grimace, Max shrugged, "Last year of having to be there, I guess. Not a big deal." The effort was evident, but it hadn't been impressive enough for Max to un-narrow her eyes, "Yeah, I'm familiar with it. Thanks." Her head quirked at the mention of Tony Hawk, surprised Chrissy Cunningham had a clue in the world who he was. Max was more into Stephanie Person or Cindy Whitehead, but the let that slide in favor of a more pressing question, "So what's the threshold, does a kickflip get me detention?"

Chrissy blinked at Max, like she was seeing her in sharper focus now. Less of the girl in the file and more just… Max. Whoever that may be. Miss Wheeler’s barbecue," she repeated, tasting the words on her mouth. "Color me shocked. That’s definitely not where I expected you to spend a Saturday."

She shifted the journal under her arm, trying to hide the growing fondness for it. Maybe on paper, Max Mayfield and Chrissy Cunningham were nothing alike, but she could see the way Max gripped onto that skateboard like it was a lifeline. "I don’t blame you, you know," she started off gently. "For not wanting to be there." The there being Hawkins High School. Sometimes she riddled herself for coming back and it was this glimpse - girls like Max, someone who just needed someone else to look at them more than they were a problem, to hear them.

Chrissy glanced towards the board. "You skate much during the summer?" She took a beat before following up with, "I only ask because there’s this chipped curb behind the school," she pointed behind her as if said curb was right behind her. "It’s not much, but I used to see a few kids practice there like, all the time when I was still in school." Maybe she was being an embarrassment by mentioning the things she remembered when she was in school, but it was a jumping off point. A start.

"But like, just don’t do any Tony Hawk stunts on school property, because then I'd have to actually be an authority figure." Chrissy Cunningham! She's not like a regular guidance counselor, she's a cool counselor!

[runawayymax]

Max dug into her pocket, eventually producing a quarter and a dime and sliding it across the table to Will, "Can you set aside a notebook and two folders for me? I didn't bring a bad or anything." Odds Max would see Will again before the day came to an end, outside of the block party? Likely. "If I told you, it wouldn't really be secret." Max pointed out, and offering in the same breathe, "But if you're ever having a bad day, let me know and I'll show you." It had taken three years of trial and error, but Max had found her perfect spot, and just in time for senior year, too. She had no problem sharing it with Will, but she'd have to make him vow to never tell Mike. The thought alone of Mike Wheeler showing up to her ditching sanctuary made her skin itch. No risks. She burst into laughter as Will revealed he got partnered up with a freshmen for their focus day, "Wait, seriously? You've never even been to high school." It wasn't a dig, just truly astonishing. "I don't think I got paired with anyone. Either they think I'm a bad influence, or I didn't get the memo." Max was unaffected by either possibility. It wasn't lost on her Will mentioned his nerves and she didn't want to fuss, or outright ask him how he was feeling. But Max still wanted to know, so instead she began by taking a positive route, "What are you most looking forward to?"

Will pointed to the paper-bound notebooks and rattled off the prices, "A quarter, the leather ones are like two bucks." -- Which he knew was a waste of money, even if Will wanted something nicer to draw in. "They're doing a utensils package for fifty cents and folders are five cents a piece."

Someone else might've pointed out that the school supply drive was starting tomorrow, but Will hesitated. Growing up, there was nothing more embarrassing than going to those things and getting the same black-and-white notebooks that everyone knew came from the drive. It was such a stupid thing for kids to care about, but Troy and his friends never hesitated to point it out. Will used to scrounge up loose coins off the arcade floor to buy new stuff just to avoid their teasing.

His mouth quirked upwards at Max's answer. It was so... Max. "Okay, noted," Will said, though he doubted he'd be passing off that little tidbit to his mentee. He didn't want to be a square or anything, but it's not like he wanted to encourage skipping either, especially not with his mom at the front desk. Ugh. "So do you have a secret hiding spot?" Will asked, more out of curiosity than a desire to join her.

"Oh-- no," Will started, then corrected himself, "Well, kind of. But I guess we're doing this... Freshman Focus day?" He sucked on his teeth, hoping the whole thing wouldn't be as painful as it felt. "I think they're pairing seniors with freshmen to give tips or whatever. Did you get one?"

[runawayymax]

Max held the piece of wood out in front of her, which appeared to be a whistle, for fifteen dollars? Yeah. It deserved to be stolen. Still, Nancy had a point and she tucked it away willingly. "Thanks for being so calm, Nancy." She quipped, nose crinkling up. "Relax, you're not going to have a story, because nobody's going to get arrested." Hopefully that had been enough to assuage Nancy's concern, because Max glossed over it like it was nothing and proceeded, "So what is the scoop of the block party so far?" Something in her gut told her Nancy wasn't going to say, but she had to at least try. Max admired the journalist from afar. There was something aspirational about getting out of Hawkins and seeing the world, even just a little bit of it. Who didn't want to leave this place? It was cool. Which made Nancy cool. "It's probably nothing interesting, right? I can't imagine there being breaking news at a school sponsored event." Max took it a step further and joked, "Like, we got a new janitor guys! Call the Hawkins Post!" Though she supposed, it was a privilege to be able to joke about such dull things now. She took a deep breath and awkwardly amended, "Sorry, I'm just not crazy about this totally fake...togetherness."

Notebook and tape recorder in hand, Nancy strolled down Main Street as her eyes wandered the booths, in search of a free vendor to interview. She'd already collected quotes from a few mothers with children in hand, but it wasn't enough yet to make the story a holistic one. Even if this was just fluff, Nancy would make it the best puff piece the Post had ever seen.

Perhaps the last people she expected to see while covering the block party were her brother and his friends, but one unmistakable glance at Max Mayfield's curly, fiery locks proved Nancy otherwise. She was about to make a mental note to try and track her down, if she could catch her, that was, as the redhead weaved down the block like no one was in her way.

From the booth beside her, Nancy heard a yell to get back here, and before she knew it, Max was at her side, a small, whittled piece of wood in her hand. With an apologetic smile, she shut her notebook, effectively finishing her interview before turning to the younger girl. "Max," she scolded, voice in a hush as Nancy covered her hand with her own. "I do not want to have to do a piece about someone getting arrested for theft at this thing, so, put that away before someone sees, will you?"

[runawayymax]

Saving up for shoes was the most bozo thing ever in Max's opinion. Her eyes steeled at him in disapproval, "What shoes?" It really did make a difference, "Are they like, fashion shoes, or for basketball?" That was also an important factor. Regardless of Lucas' pursuit of footwear, he was still a bozo. She slowed down on her board a little bit, attempting to get a good look at the booths behind Lucas. Unsurprisingly, they all looked boring. The thought of her as a cheerleader was so ridiculous, Max had to laugh, but she still went along with it. She planted both of her feet back on her board and mimicked shaking pom poms with her hands, waving them up then down, "Go Tigers!" She mocked the obnoxious pep of their school's cheerleaders, quick to laugh at her own impression. "I seriously don't know how you tolerate that shit, Lucas." Max shook her head. Translation: I don't understand how you stand being popular. Everyone was really different now, especially Lucas, and that was her own fault for staying away. Maybe she shouldn't give him such a hard time. There were no guidelines for how to act around former best friends that she'd spent years deliberately shutting out. Could she still joke with Lucas like that? Things were normal, almost like they used to be, but was it supposed to be that easy? Max cleared her throat and let her foot graze lightly over the asphalt. "Okay, fine. We can stay for their speeches, but after that, I'm leaving." She left no room for Lucas to negotiate. "I hate this stuff." As if that wasn't already obvious. Max's eyes rolled at Lucas' idea of motivation to enjoy the block party, "Right, because this time next year, instead I'll be thinking about which of my friends are leaving Hawkins. Can't wait."

Max had a point about Radio Shack being a national chain and all. It's not like they were hurting for money. His mom would kill him for this, but Lucas... mostly didn't want to seem like a bitch in front of Max, because she clearly has no problem calling him out. "Yeah, well..." he shrugged, rolling his eyes at Max's message via calculator. "This bozo is saving up for a new pair of shoes, so every dollar counts."

He hazarded a glance in Max's direction, meeting her eye for a beat before saying, genuine, "Thanks." Lucas was sure she would've done it for anybody-- something about the thrill of the act, or whatever-- but he'd let himself think it was a moment, just for a while until logic won out.

"I have no idea," Lucas confessed, taking Max's near-assault of Troy Walsh in stride. (If anyone deserved it...) "I think Will's helping out at the Melvald's booth... haven't seen Mike yet." He did a quick scan for Dustin to no avail. If he was messing with the god damn ham radio again, Lucas swore to God...

"So it was a rumor that you tried out to be a cheerleader!" he joked, shaking his head at Max in faux-disbelief. "I thought you were turning over a new leaf. Senior year, and all." Lucas shook his head, then hedged it with, "We at least should hear Dustin speak. And Erica, I guess." He was less excited about the latter, only because he was sure she'd manage to write in some dig special for him.

"Just think, this time next year you won't have to do all this shit again, ever." The thought of this time next year put a nervous pit in Lucas' stomach, though. It was possible-- likely-- that this time next year, he'd be living in an entirely different city from his best friends. Everything would be so different, more than it already was. Lucas was usually good with change, adaptable was what his dad said, but now... he just wanted things to slow down for a while.

[runawayymax]

Jonathan was the brother Max had always wished for. The one she cried for on Billy's angry nights, when he'd crack his fists into her bedroom door, grab her and scream, sure signs that Neil was in a mood too. From what she gathered Lonnie was a lot like Neil. But that didn't turn Jonathan rotten. He'd never dare lay a hand on Will, Jonathan'd never come close to making their home a hurricane. She'd never say it aloud, but there was a lot to envy about the Byers (El included.) Their family bond for starters, and the warmth in their home overall. On some of Max's most desperate days, the Byers showed up for her in ways her real family never had. So when Jonathan expressed his disapproval at her trick, she frowned. She tried not to let it shake her too bad and continued, "Oh what? Suddenly you've never broken the law? Sure, Jonathan." Max scoffed, then held the item out in her hand for him to get a closer look at. "Some bullshit pin from the Mayor's office. I'm gonna deface it and put it on my backpack. No way am I giving money to those assholes." As quickly as she swiped it, she stuffed it back into her pocket. Max gave Jonathan a second glance, noticing his attire, the tie stuffed into his pocket, and of course, his always tired expression. "Jeez," she remarked, "How hard are they working you?"

Jonathan had spotted her before she spotted him.

Hard not to. Max had that kind of presence ... something sharp. A little defiant. She was like a heat mirage. Skimming past the vendor booths on four wheels. Red hair catching the last sliver of sun on this fine summer evening.

He was still in his dress shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled up with a tie half-stuffed into his pocket. The freelance wedding gig had wrapped about an hour ago and he smelled like frosting and sweat. Thank god for vendors because the boy needed a real snack.

What he hadn’t expected was to be publicly called out for being, apparently, pathetic. He blinked. “Wow,” he said, dryly. “Hi to you, too.” And then chaos ensued. Max, doing some strange weaponized act of kindness-slash-theft was suddenly distracting the vendor like it was well practiced. He barely had time to react before she walked away from the scene of crime, victorious, holding out some shiny trinket or snack or ... what was that, even?

Jonathan stared at it. Then at her.

“Max,” he said slowly, low. A tired voice that suggested both concern and a decent amount of resignation, “I don’t think that counts as free.” He stood visibly unsure if he was supposed to scold her or not. Then sighed. “You know there’s, like… laws,” he added. He didn’t walk away. Didn’t take the thing from her either. Just stood there on the edge of the vendor booth like some awkward NPC who couldn’t figure out whether he was part of this quest or not.

“…What even is that?” he asked, cautiously, as if the answer might give him an excuse to let it slide.

[runawayymax]

One of the aspects she hated school about most was the constant worry and pity from staff members. Either they were overly concerned in all the wrong ways, asking Max about school breaks, her Mom, or her job. All of it felt like a humiliating, inescapable trap. And if it wasn't kindness granted out of obligation, it was hatred. Max pushed teacher's buttons, picked fights in class (if she went), and often found herself in the principals office for one bullshit reason or another. So, swiping a journal for Chrissy Cunningham as a favor didn't seem like such a bad idea. A gift in exchange for staying off her back for this final year of high school. Clearly, the intention of it being a gift didn't come across. Max didn't know Chrissy could sound so...angry. But if anything was to be gained out of committing outright crime in front of her new guidance counselor, it was that she was decidedly not cool like that. She passed over the journey, then held her hands up in false promise, "Alright, alright, no more sticky fingers, I got it." Max should've known just because Chrissy was off duty, and they were off school premises, didn't mean it was suddenly okay for her to break the rules law. Her plan had so clearly backfired and now she felt cornered into a conversation with her guidance counselor, "Uh, not really. Miss Wheeler's Barbeque, I guess." She shrugged, uncomfortably gripping her skateboard tighter, "Do you have exciting plans? I couldn't imagine coming back to work at school."

Chrissy had been doing her best to blend into the chaos of Main Street. Not hide, exactly, but certainly not draw attention. She was trying. She really was. One last weekend of heat and overstimulation before the first bell of the year rang, and she thought maybe she could handle it. Show her face. Be visible, like the district memo insisted guidance counselors should be. Smile, wave, and go home.

But then she saw the journal. Hand-bound, pressed flower cover, dainty little ribbon to mark the page. Twenty-five dollars. Twenty-five. She’d spent half her monthly budget already on tissues and granola bars for the office snack drawer, but she couldn’t quite walk away from it. Surely she could justify the cost.

"I’m not saying it’s not worth it," she tried with the vendor, as gentle as ever. "I’m just saying... maybe the ribbon doesn’t have to cost eight dollars?"

That’s when Max's bone-dry voice cut in. Chrissy blinked and turned toward her. "Max?" Chrissy asked, a little stunned. Max Mayfield's file had proven to be a tough summer read as she prepared for her first year working at Hawkins High. She couldn't remember if thievery had been noted. "You - wait, what are you...?"

But Max had already stepped up, weaving a lie so smoothly that Chrissy’s jaw dropped as the vendor whipped his head around and hollered down the street. And before Chrissy could even register what had happened, Max was already walking away.

"Max Mayfield," she hissed under her breath, clutching the journal like it had sprouted fangs. "You stole this!" She whisper-exclaimed, like it was not the most obvious thing between them. Chrissy stared at the journal for a long beat, then almost reluctantly hugged it to her chest with a sigh. "That was both incredibly reckless and... annoyingly effective. But you can’t do that again. Seriously." Her tone was stern, but her eyes were soft. She had made some silent note to one, bring it up in their first meeting and two, to go back and pay for it.

She paused at the edge of the next booth, a table full of school spirit merch - green and gold pom-poms, Fighting Tigers bumper stickers, a cardboard cutout of Coach Beiste that looked terrifying. Chrissy winced and glanced at Max again.

“Any big plans before school starts?” She asked, an almost annoyingly bright smile playing at her face. Dealing with kids like Max always had to be taken in small strides. It was almost like dealing with a feral cat. Get too close too quick and they are libel to bite. But, this was in a sense, letting Max sniff Chrissy's proverbial hand.

[runawayymax]

As much as she didn't want to take care of it, Max needed new school supplies. A couple of folders and a notebook should do the trick for the first few weeks, so off to Will and the Melvald's booth she went. She drummed her fingers against the table of the booth as she watched Will shuffle the products around according to...color? "How much is everything going for?" She asked, now folding her arms. It was a sore point, all the scrimping and saving she'd become accustomed to, but Max knew that Will of all people wouldn't make fun of her if she ended up fifty cents short or something. The following question caught Max off-guard, brows twisting downward in consideration. If she could go back to the Fall of '85 and tell her Freshman self anything it would probably be to expect the worst out of the school staff? Maybe she'd tell fourteen year old Max to take the GED and save herself the growing pains of high school. But none of that seemed like advice to share with Will, who had his first week of high school looming. "I wish I knew that they always check under the bleachers first when you're not in class. I could've saved myself detention, for sure." Though Max doubted Will Byers had big plans of ditching. She occupied her hands by picking up a stack of folders and tapping them into the tabletop, "Why are you asking? Nervous?" Max didn't want to presume anything, but if she were in Will's situation? Yeah, she'd be a nervous wreck.

who: will byers & open! where: back to school block party!

There were a lot of things to be worried about heading into senior year. For one, Will was already bracing himself for the same kind of torment he got in middle school. Sure, Lucas was popular now and Will at least had the Hellfire Club to fall back on in the friend category, but that didn't change his status as homeschooled-zombie-boy-freak. On top of that, Mom had just gotten an administration job at Hawkins High, which she swears is just a good opportunity-- but bring-your-mom-to-school day wasn't likely to score him any cool points, either. Not that Will particularly cared about being cool-- he mostly just wanted to be left alone.

Then they sent the letter home about Freshman Focus day, and assigned Will a freshman to mentor. He was more than a little panicked about this-- what the hell could he possibly tell an incoming freshman that would have any merit? Don't bike home at night? If you start seeing visions, tell someone because you might be possessed? Will sighed, hoisting a box of school supplies onto the folding chair behind the Melvald's booth and beginning to sort the notebooks according to color. Jonathan had stepped away for a smoke break, and Will didn't think any of his friends were here yet, so he didn't mind finishing the setup.

When a potential customer looked his way, Will offered a gentle smile, dropping his hand onto the table and smoothing out the forest green tablecloth. "Hi!" he greeted, watching them for a moment before asking, "Can I ask you sort of a weird question?" Will decided to go for it, desperate for any piece of wisdom he could dispense to his mentee on Saturday. "What's something you wish you knew as a freshman?"