The Bus Stop

08: Pancakes

  A/N: Quick reminder, Nash and Luke are Max's two best friends from the Varsity soccer team.

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After a tense and silent car trip home, I found myself deprived of any sleep.  My thoughts were alive, electric and glowing and so deafeningly loud against the subdued aroma that occupied my bedroom.  I lay on my bed, my eyes shut tight as I tried so desperately to fall asleep and put my thoughts at ease.  Except not only were Max's words lingering in my mind, I hadn't heard his painful cries which only proved that he couldn't sleep either.  I knew that he too was lying down on his bed, just staring up at the ceiling as he thought over the events of tonight.

  What about you, Clara?  You're too pathetic to forgive your own dad that you won't even give him a chance, you won't try!

  Was he right?

  Was I really that pathetic that I was incapable of forging my father?

  It wasn't just his sentence that I couldn't stop thinking about, it was the truth about his father abusing him as a child.  Questions kept swimming through my mind, taunting me as they never rested.  How long had his dad been abusing him for?  More importantly now, did his mom know?  A small glimpse of anger muddled up my string of thoughts as I pondered on the idea of Jackie knowing.  It is bad enough that someone's own father could hit them, but I couldn't imagine the pain it would cause someone if their own mother didn't do anything to stop it.

  I hated how complicated it all was.  I despised the small feeling I felt when I entered Max's past, the unknown becoming my biggest trepidation.  That night, consumed by unwanted thoughts of Max, I lay awaked as I worried about the boy and tried to make sense of his words.  It was late into the night when sleep had finally taken over my body and forced myself into a deep slumber.

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  The next morning, I was awoken to a long, stream of golden sunlight peeking through my bedroom window, lighting my hair like a fiery halo.  I lifted my head from the pillow, my straight hair tumbling down my back like a waterfall as I cautiously opened my eyes.  The sun's rays sent a glossy, gold sheen around the room, blending with the falling Autumn leaves.  I groaned as I thought over the minimal hours of sleep I had gotten, feeling the bags beneath my eyes beginning to form.

  Why couldn't I sleep last night?

  And then it's as if everything slapped me right across the face as the troubling thoughts of Max Elliot occupied my mind once again.  The astronomy convention, the fight and the dreadful confession of a small part of Max's complicated past.  It all came back, like a huge bus had come across and whacked me straight in the gut, leaving behind an immense amount of pain.

  I shut my eyes for a moment, massaging my temples as I fought off a stress headache that was beginning to form.  I could hear the faint noise of the morning traffic that drove around outside and if I listened really carefully, I was able to hear the soft noise of crashing, beach waves.  Saturday mornings were always rather peaceful, excluding the ones where I had to wake up at 5AM to swim in a pool with a bunch of belly-floppers.  So you could only imagine my growing headache as I heard a frying pan crash onto the ground, followed by a string of curses.

  I let out a frustrated groan as I swung my legs off the side of my bed, heading down the stairs as I let a yawn escape my lips. Before I could say anything, I was welcomed by the sight of a much larger company then I had expected to see this morning.

  "Max, I don't care if it was an accident, put a dollar in the swear-jar," my mother told him, gesturing her hand towards the large mason jar sitting on the edge of our breakfast bar.