Tuesday & Max

12

I WOULD LIKE TO LEAVE THIS CITY

THIS OLD TOWN DON'T SMELL TOO PRETTY AND

I CAN FEEL THE WARNING SIGNS

RUNNING AROUND MY MIND

"It's Stella's birthday tomorrow so we're having a house party," Jack says as he pulls up in front of the flat. "Pick you up after college?"

The orange burn of the streetlights casts everything around them into stark, blocky shadows. Jack's face is sliced in half; one side dark, one side light. He looks fractured, like a jigsaw put together wrong.

"I can't," Tuesday says, clearing her throat. "I'm doing something."

"With who?"

Guilt twists Tuesday's stomach, but why? It's only revising with Max. They're not doing anything wrong. She isn't doing anything wrong.

"Remember my new friend?"

"What, that guy Max?"

"Yeah."

There's a small silence. Tuesday wishes she'd explained the tutoring thing earlier, when it began.

"Well you can bring him," Jack laughs nervously. "That would be fine."

"No, no—it's just... I got a bit behind on my Media work when I started at The Bean, and he was helping me catch up. We tend to do our homework together because he's really good with the computer stuff and I'm not, so."

"Right."

Quiet descends again.

Tuesday fights the urge to justify her friendship with Max more, and Jack taps the steering wheel lightly for a couple of moments, then looks at her.

He smiles.

"Okay then. I'm glad you're enjoying your lessons and stuff more. Maybe you'll want to follow one of the subjects on to university?"

Tuesday sighs. He can't stand her disinterest in higher education; neither can Julia. What's wrong with working some easy, reliable job in a supermarket or something and renting a small place so she can spend all her spare time and money on sewing? Not everyone has to follow their dreams. Not everyone has to have an insane career.

Her mother's voice echoes in her head. It's okay to think small, Day. As long as you're happy. As long as you're doing something good in the world.

The picture of their van from the news report pops intrusively into her mind. Warped, burnt out metal, surrounded by severed rose heads and lost petals. Collateral damage.

"We'll see," she says.

Jack brings the conversation back to tomorrow night. "If you guys get bored with your work, still drop by the party though. Can Max," his name sounds wrong on Jack's lips, "drive?"

"He's learning," Tuesday says. The thought terrifies her. What is she going to say when he passes his test and comes to her, excited, to take her on a drive?

"Oh. I guess you can always walk. Or Uber, if you're up to it."

"Yeah," Tuesday sighs. "I'll text you, anyway. Let you know."

"Okay."

She grabs her bag and makes for the door handle.

"Am I coming in?" Jack asks. His green eyes look dark, muddy, like rain-sodden grass in the gloom.