Daisies || Max Mayfield

32: Heather

We biked to the pool, me on Nancy's and Max and El on Max's bike.

"Hey!" Max shouted, storming into the pool building. We'd just pushed through maybe a hundred people waiting outside.

"No one in the pool until thirty minutes after the last strike." A blonde guy behind the counter said over a magazine.

"Yeah, we don't care, we're not here to swim." She rolled her eyes, putting the fanny pack on the counter. "Who's is this?"

He glanced at it, putting his drink down. "Heather's. I'll get it back to her."

"We could give it back to her," El said.

"You could, 'cept she's not here." He reached for it, but Max grabbed it back. "What is this, you girls want some kind of reward?"

"Nope."

"Hey, bring that back here." He put his can down, leaning forward.

"Fuck off," I muttered, turning the bike around and following the two over to a bulletin board.

"It's Heather," Max said. She glanced at El. "You think you could find her?"

El nodded, ripping the picture off the wall. 

We hid in the locker room, Max covering a pair of goggles in some masking tape while I rushed to turn on all the showers.

El sat on the floor, with me and Max sitting on the benches around her. She put the goggles on and laid her hands flat on her crossed legs.

"What do you see?" Max asked.

"A door," Eleven whispered.

"What?" I frowned. "Where the hell do you see a door-"

Max put a hand on my knee, widening her eyes. "Shh."

"Sorry." I turned red, staring at her hand on me.

It was quiet for a few seconds until El started panting. She ripped the goggles off, bending over with her head in her hands, gasping.

"What happened?!" Max exclaimed. Her hand left my knee, going on El's shoulder now. "El! Are you okay?"

Eleven was panting, twisting around to see me and Max. She was still panting, and her nose was bleeding onto her lip.

"Ugh." I frowned. "Your nose."

Max handed her a tissue, making a face at me. "What?"

"It's bleeding."

"I think she knows." She muttered.

"I know." Eleven added, wiping the blood from her face.

I rolled my eyes. Why are they such good friends now? Probably because they were together for a sleepover, and I was stuck sleeping on a couch that had become my bed at that point.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Max asked, glancing at me.

"Mike's."

"Mike?" Eleven looked up at me. "You're staying with Mike?"

"I always stay in his basement," I said, going to shut off a few of the showers.

"Why."

"Because I sleep on the couch." I continued, walking down the row of showers. "I don't sleep at my own house."

"Why don't you sleep at your own house?" She asked.

"Daisy doesn't like to sleep at her house," Max explained. "It's not safe there."