The Bus Stop

23: Sacrifices

For as long as I had known Max Elliot, he had been outright the most optimistic person I had ever had the pleasure of knowing. His gentle features were always accompanied by a grand smile and even with everything that had happened to him, not once did he ever give up.

But now, as he looked at me with glistening eyes, I knew the darkness he had spent so long running from had finally caught up with him.

"It doesn't matter who was right," I said, my voice sounding much smaller than I intended it to. Max was usually the one who knew what to do, a plan always mapped out in his mind or at least a solid sense of direction. I, on the other hand, wasn't one praised on quick thinking. "What matters is doing the right thing now."

The boy looked at me with his astonishing blue eyes, their color radiating a sense of something much deeper than sadness. It was almost as if he had lost hope—everyone he thought cared about him leaving, turning their back on him before he had a chance to stop them. And he didn't have to tell me that he was on the verge of giving in to the thoughts that haunted him, because I could see it in his azure irises.

"I can't talk to her," Max told me, his eyes lingering on anything but Piper and Trevor, "not right now."

And perhaps it was the slight tremble in his voice or the sudden sporadic movements of his eyelids that made me grab his hand, leading him away from the scene. We briskly walked past the stands of people, making a direct beeline towards the parking lot and hurriedly getting into my mom's work car.

I didn't have a clue as to where I was planning to drive us, no destination seeming like an appropriate place. I didn't want to take him to his house, for I knew his mom would be quick to ask him the questions he didn't hold the answers to. My house wasn't an option either, the thought of anyone in my family questioning why we had come home so early was just an inconvenience. Nowhere seemed fit for the current occurrence, but all I knew was that anything was better than here.

As Max clicked his seatbelt in its buckle, I was quick to reverse out of the parking space, turning left in the opposite direction of our homes. The car ride was relatively quiet, Max seeming to have nothing to say and me not daring to say the wrong thing. Despite the recent events that had just taken place, it didn't make up for the things we had said to each other the night of Trevor's party.

  In a way, it was almost as if there wasn't anything to say.  Whilst there were an abundance of unanswered questions and clouded feelings, it seemed like words were to minor for something so major.  Despite the fact that heartbreak and breakups in general were a common occurrence nowadays, it didn't mean it wasn't valid.  Even though Max had only been dating Piper for no longer than a month and a half, she still hurt him.  And I wasn't mad at her for cheating on him—I, as the boy's best friend didn't have the complete right to hate on Piper Taylor for something she did.  I disliked her for what she didn't do.  She didn't even care about him.

  As we neared the edge of the small town, it hit me like a giant slap in the face that I knew exactly where we needed to go.  The beach—or more specifically, the pair of gentle swings that overlooked the shimmering water.

At the beginning of the school year, when Max had just finished giving me my first surfing lesson, we had sat in a cafe overlooking the waves. He looked conflicted, like something was bothering him and he wasn't quite sure how to approach it. The words that left his mouth were gentle and thoughtful, as if the boy didn't dare waste a second to speak.

  I love it because it's my escape. People can breathe down my neck and bombard me with questions, they can isolate me and trap me in their little knowledge of who I am. People can leave without warning and leave with nothing but a mystery, things can change and life can go on, but no one ever bothers me while I surf. It's like surfing is an endless cloud and no matter who leaves, the waves are always there, waiting for someone to embark their journey.