I start to run back to the car.
“Webb! Hold up!” Baptist catches up with me, looking concerned. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Max. Something happened at school. I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“I’ll drive.”
I glance at him and shake my head. “You don’t have to.”
“I’ll get us there faster than you will. I’ll leave you with the car and take an Uber home so you can deal with your brother.”
“No, Baptist, that’s not—”
“Come on, less talking, more running.” He picks up the pace, dragging me along, and I can only hustle after him and hope that Max is okay.
Chapter13
Blair
Max sits slumped in the passenger side seat staring out the window.
His eye is a black and blue swollen mess and there’s blood on his shirt. Not his own. He’s sullen and quiet, and hasn’t said much since the principal’s office. Even then he only spoke when directly questioned.
I have no clue how to handle this.
“You want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head and doesn’t answer.
I drive slowly back to the apartment.
“Vice Principal Shade said—”
“He wasn’t there and he doesn’t know what fucking happened.”
Max’s vitriol worries me. I nod a little and try to keep my voice measured and calm, but my mind flashes back to that room with its Polaroids and the filth staining the floor. I glance at Max’s black eye, and my stomach is a twisted knot of worry.
“Why don’t you tell me then? You know I’m on your side.”
Max shakes his head and goes quiet again.
I park in the street near the apartment and Max storms up without saying anything. I let him go, trailing after. He’s been through a lot these last few months and from what I understand, the fight was pretty intense, and I figure he needs some time to process. Max isn’t the aggressive, violent type, and Shade did mention that he’s never had any disciplinary issues before, which is why he isn’t suspended.
But I am way out of my depth here.
I’m not a parent. I don’t have kids and I have no clue how to deal with a hurt, angry teenager. I’m not Max’s mother, although I’m not sure if she’d be all that helpful in this situation, either. Maybe fifteen years ago, but not anymore. She’s too drained, too exhausted. Too beaten down and broken by our piece-of-shit father.
I wish I didn’t have to be the strong one. But I suck it up, take a breath, and head inside.
Max sits slumped on the couch staring at his phone. I go into the kitchen and shoot Baptist a quick text: All good here, just teenager stuff.
He replies right away.Let me know if you need any help.
Are you an expert in teen boys now?I ask him, smiling to myself.
He sends,I was one at some point, believe it or not.
I’ll reach out if I need any wisdom about masturbation and porn from teen Baptist.