The Bus Stop

19: Bittersweet

  A/N: Song attached - When We Were Young, by Adele.

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After school the following Friday, Max and I slung our wetsuits and surfboards into the back of his mom's SUV and began our route to the beach.  Considering Max was so busy with soccer and Piper, we decided to make Friday afternoon's our new thing, surfing and studying.

  "Wait," I said from the driver's seat, Max staring at me cautiously just incase—and I quote—'I hurt his baby.'  I let a smile fall onto my face as I spoke.  "How did you get an A on your physics report? I thought Mr Walker said if your printed it out on hole punched paper you'd instantly drop a few marks."

  I took a tentative glance at the boy sitting beside me and managed to see a wide, mischievous smile creep across his face.  "Let's just say, that with muscles like these," he took a moment to flex his biceps and grin at me, "anything is possible."

  "Oh my God," I laughed, "you did not threaten your physics teacher to give you an A on your report."

  Max beamed, "oh but I did, Clara-Bear."

  I laughed as I whacked him upside the head, smiling like an idiot as I wondered how even the smallest of things from this boy could alter my emotions in an instant. 

  "Ow! Okay! I'm sorry, but it worked," he laughed as he continued to speak, "keep your eyes on the road, Anderson.  Need I remind you that you're operating heavy machinery with me in it?"

  I laughed and then glanced at him, "are you going to Nash's party tonight?"

He shrugged. "I guess, Piper said she might go and Nash is a pretty good mate, it should he cool, you know?"

  I sat back in my seat, both hands stretched out as I gripped the steering wheel.  I didn't really have any sort of way to relate to his reasoning so I just shrugged and changed into the middle lane.  "Do you know what would happen if my mom found out there was another party I was invited to?"

  "Is that rhetorical?"

  "Yes," I confirmed with a nod, "but just so you'd know, she would lock me in the basement forever."

  "I don't believe that," Max scoffed, "in fact that's not even possible."

  "Oh trust me, it would happen.  After what went down at the last party, my mom actually decided to give a damn about what I do, strange isn't it?"

  "Clara, it wouldn't happen," he insisted, "you don't even have a basement."

  "Fine.  She'd lock me up in the storeroom under the stairs.  The cold, dark and smelly storeroom that has zero oxygen and limited sanity and I'd be fed a mashup of potatoes and oranges.  It would be awful but also possible, my dad was once a cop, he could cover my disappearance and no one would even question it."

  Max looked at me, raising an eyebrow.

  "What?" I asked him before checking my mirrors and turning left.

  "Nothing," the boy confirmed, "it's just, you're such a weirdo, Clara Anderson."  His voice was soft as he said it, probably muted by the cold wind.  He looked at me for a few more moments before sticking his head out the car window like a dog, smiling when I laughed at him.