Chapter Text
Max surveys the classroom.
Their award-winning photographer/teacher isn't here yet, so the room is abuzz with energy. Golden sunlight streams in through the tall windows, the students awash in the last warmth of September.
Max has been attending Blackwell Academy for two weeks now and has been back in Arcadia Bay for three, and she still can't believe it. Every day here has been like a surreal dream come to life, especially after spending five years away in Seattle. Sure, she would get fragments of life here through her correspondences with her best friend/life partner Chloe, but hearing about a place isn't the same as truly being in a place.
Chloe, of course, manages to be late to everything. Jerk. So, Max, sitting by herself in the back of the classroom, contents herself with people-watching.
Victoria, Courtney, and Taylor are all sitting at the same table, all radiating negative energy. Max doesn't understand how they can all be so beautiful, popular, and well-liked, yet hold so much disdain for the world around them. Max doesn't exactly subscribe to the Mean Girls theory of social cliques, but with Victoria and Co. it's pretty hard to dispute.
Kate and Dana are sitting at the table to Max's right, chatting away about something. Max still thinks they're something of an odd couple, but they struck up a friendship almost immediately and have remained close ever since. Of course, Max doesn't know how anyone could dislike Kate Marsh – she was really the first friend she made at Blackwell (not counting Rachel and Chloe, of course, who she knew beforehand anyway).
Rachel Amber, Chloe's other BFF, is sitting next to her Vortex Club compatriot Hayden. Max happens to catch Rachel's gaze, who winks lasciviously in return. Ah, Rachel. Never change.
No wonder everyone loves her so much.
Spread out through the various remaining tables are people that Max knows, but not as well as she'd like (for the most part). There's Alyssa, her nose buried in a book. Daniel, sketching away at something. Stella is scrolling intensely through her phone.
Max checks the clock. Class is about to begin.
Max sighs. It's no surprise when Chloe slides into the classroom just before their teacher enters, a devilish grin on her face.
"That still counts as being on time!" Chloe says.
Their teacher rolls her eyes fondly.
"I'll let you get away with it this time, Chloe," their teacher, Hanna Burch, says.
Chloe slides into the chair next to Max, giving her a playful smirk as she does. Max rolls her eyes good-naturedly.
"Alright, class, focus in, focus in," Ms. Burch says.
Max cracks a grin at that. As if anyone has a hard time focusing- she's pretty sure that everyone in the class is nursing at least a small crush on Ms. Burch. Or, in Victoria’s case, a huge, obvious crush played out all cross her face and general body language. It makes Max want to laugh, the way that Victoria laser-focuses in on the teacher and leans forward in an almost predatory manner.
Not that I should judge. Ms. Burch is awesome, and I wouldn’t exactly turn her down if she ever asked. Wait – that’s weird to think about.
“Today, class, is a very special day,” Ms. Burch says. “And not because it’ll be the first time that Courtney stops texting as I’m speaking.”
Courtney yelps, her face turning bright red. She guiltily slides her phone into her purse.
“No, fellow artists, today is the day I announce the beginning of the annual photography contest!” Ms. Burch says.
Murmurs immediately bubble up around the room.
“You may have heard rumors about this,” Ms. Burch says. “The contest is simple – you enter a photograph, and I, along with a panel of my fellow professional photographers, will select a winner. The winning photograph will be the one that best exemplifies the theme, and this year’s theme is ‘empathy.’”
The conversations around the classroom increase in volume, and Ms. Burch silences them all with a gesture.
“You may interpret this theme in any way you like,” Ms. Burch. “You can be as lofty or as straightforward as you so desire. There are no wrong answers, save for not submitting a photograph at all. I hope to see entries for all of you.”
Max sinks in her seat. She loves photography with all her heart, but the idea of sharing her work with others still terrifies her, no matter how many times Chloe gushes over her work. Putting her work out there makes it feel so real, so concrete. And then for her photograph to be judged on top of that? Horrifying.
Chloe jabs her elbow into Max’s ribs.
“Stop freaking out, nerd,” Chloe murmurs, always the mind-reader. “You’re going to win if you enter, easy money.”
Max shrugs non-committedly. She wishes that she could have as much courage as Chloe does on her behalf.
“And, to dangle the carrot in front of you all, the winning photograph will be displayed in the Zeitgeist Gallery in San Francisco,” Ms. Burch says. “And, the winner will get to travel with me to go see it.”
The classroom erupts into conversation at that. Ms. Burch manages to get the noise to a reasonable level after a few moments.
“If you have any further questions, please see me after class,” Ms. Burch says. “Now, let’s discuss the reading. Who here can name the first commercially successful photographic process?”
Max begins to zone out as Victoria answers the question, saying something about Daguerreotypes or whatever. Her mind is already completely preoccupied with the contest – what is she going to do? Who – or what – is going to be her subject? Does she even want to enter this thing at all?
Max, Chloe, and Kate decide to lounge outside after class, their free periods just happening to align. It’s a beautiful day, the last vestiges of summer still clinging to the air. Max and Kate rest their backs against one of the old oak trees that dot the grassy quad; Kate giggles as Chloe decides to use her lap as a pillow.
Speaking of odd couples, Max isn’t sure how Kate and Chloe are friends really at all. Kate is prim and proper to a fault, while Chloe is self-described crust-punk and general rabble-rouser. At first, Max thought Chloe was playing nice just for her sake, but the two seem to really like one another. Whatever it is, Max certainly isn’t complaining – having more than one friend at once is still a bit of a novel concept for her.
“Do you know what you’re going to do for the contest, Max?” Kate asks.
Max shrugs weakly and stares up at the clouds.
“Not really,” Max says. “I don’t even think I’m going to enter.”
Kate’s eyes widen.
“Max, you have to enter!” Kate says. “Your photography is wonderful, you need to share it with the world.”
Chloe scoffs.
“Hell yeah, she does,” Chloe says. “Wait, sorry, language. But I’ve been telling her that forever.”
“I don’t know if I like you two ganging up on me,” Max says.
“Hey, if you’re not going to listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to actual saint Kate Marsh here,” Chloe says. “Your photography is amazing, dude, share it and you’ll see.”
“I guess,” Max sighs. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t let all of these opportunities pass you by, Maximillian,” Chloe says.
Max shrugs non-committedly and stares out across the quad.
“Are you two planning on entering?” Max asks.
Chloe just laughs.
“No way,” Chloe says. “Photography is more of your scene, brah.”
“What?” Max exclaims. “You’re lecturing me about how I have to share my shit with the world and you’re not even going to enter? You hypocrite.”
“Get off my case, sister,” Chloe says. “I’m not much of a ‘photographer.’ I don’t really ‘make art’ or ‘get creative.’”
Chloe settles into Kate’s lap, staring up at the gently swaying branches above.
“Why are you even in the class?” Max asks.
Chloe looks at Max like she’s an idiot.
“Uh, because Ms. Burch is hella hot,” Chloe says. “And I wanted to hang out with you.”
“Aww, so sweet and yet so creepy,” Max says.
“That’s how I like to live my life,” Chloe says.
Max fondly punches Chloe’s shoulder. The group is silent for a beat.
“…I’m going to enter, Max” Kate says.
“Thanks, Kate,” Max says.
That night, Max finds herself lying on her bed and staring up at the darkened ceiling, watching the way the tree just outside her window creates strange patterns against the moonlight.
The novelty of having her own room completely unconnected from her parents (besides, y’know, their monetary contributions) is still not lost on her. Having the room to herself does feel a bit lonely, but Max kinds of likes the solitude, the quiet power of having a space all to her own.
Max can’t sleep. She feels like all of her neurons are firing at once.
Or is that a seizure? Maybe not a good way to think of having an overactive imagination.
She just can’t stop thinking about the contest. It weighs heavily on her, and she knows that she’s assigning additional value to it that doesn’t actually exist, but even then, its importance isn’t lost on her. The ability to simply put your work out there and self-promote is just one huge difference between a capital-P “Photographer” and some hobbyist who is just out there snapping pictures with an old instant camera. Max may not like it, but she knows it’s a part of the whole professional game.
And she’s only in high school. How is she even going to get into a good art school, let alone go on to become a reasonably successful photographer, if she won’t share her art with anyone not named Chloe, Rachel, or Kate?
She knows she’s being ridiculous, but it’s easy for her anxiety to spike under the cover of darkness.
Plus, just being back in Arcadia Bay continues to be overwhelming. She’s settled in just fine, with Chloe having helped with the transition, but the five years she spent away in Seattle still weight heavily on her. Coming back has felt like she’s been trying to slip into an old memory and hoping that no one notices.
Max sighs, and gets up to turn her stereo on. She puts the volume on its lowest setting and lets the calm, quiet acoustic guitars carry her to sleep.