Tuesday & Max

42

WITHOUT YOU

THERE'S HOLES IN MY SOUL

Exams are exams. You prepare, you cram the night before, you turn up to them and complete them and feel good, or bad... but at the end of the day, Tuesday discovers it's just a waiting game.

The Media exam, however, has a whole other layer of anxiety surrounding it as Tuesday takes her seat in the hall, clutching her meagre stationery.

Her surname sits her right at the back of the room, so she has a great view of everyone else. She smiles silently at people she's passively gotten to know over the school year as they filter in, handing in mobile phones and depositing bags at the front.

Will he come?

The tightness in her chest grows as more and more people arrive, dragging their chairs back across the wooden floor with agonised shrieks.

He won't miss this exam.

He can't.

If he doesn't turn up to any of them, will they kick him out of college? Will that be it, forever?

It's selfish. She acknowledges that. She doesn't particularly care about his education, his future, in this moment.

Instead, she's filled with fear that they'll never see each other again. The words that need to be said will never be spoken. She'll never meet his eyes again, never shiver at the bumps his quiet voice raises on her skin, never hold him while he cries or be held. She'll never have the chance to apologise or explain.

She's breathing quickly, panicked at how it will look if she starts to cry in the middle of an exam, when the door opens and bumps shut again and there he is.

He looks tired and serious, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Somebody leads him to his seat and on the way, his eyes find hers.

It's been all she's wanted for weeks yet fear is a punch to her stomach and she looks away immediately, gasping down at the blank paper that awaits her coherent thoughts. As if she'll have anything worth saying about what they've learnt now. Her brain is scrambled eggs, burnt to dust, trickling out of her ears.

It isn't until Max is seated and the exam begins, that she has the courage to look at him again.

His brown hair is freshly cut, looking almost velvety against the back of his head. His clothes are the same. He doesn't look any thinner. He looks like the boy that left, but it doesn't feel the same.

That boy would've answered her texts.

After a half an hour, Tuesday manages to pull her two remaining brain cells together and get something down on her paper. It definitely isn't her best work, but she can only hope it's enough to get her into second year.

When they collect the papers and dismiss the group, Max is out the door before she's even collected her bag. She grabs it, stuffs her pencils and pens into it and hightails it out of the room, searching the sea of bobbing heads for his.

He clearly doesn't want to talk. Maybe she should let it go. She doesn't even know what she'll say if she finds him, since looking him in the eye had been hard enough, but... they need something. They need to end on something, if that's what's going to happen. She needs to tell him about Jack, about her cowardice, about how she felt and for how long. He needs to know how much his encouragement helped her. He needs to know that because he believed, she did too; enough to get up on a goddamn stage in front of everyone and sing.

There are two carparks near the college that Max typically parks his car in. Both are pay and display, so sometimes he finds a free space if he can somewhere in the town centre, but she's sure he won't have done that today. Not when he had to get to his exam on time.

So that leaves two options: the north carpark, or the south.

North or south.

South is closer, but North almost always has an empty roof. Max likes the view of the city from that angle.

Taking off at a jog that leaves her breathless and clumsily stumbling along after less than thirty seconds, Tuesday heads for the North carpark.

When she gets there, she stabs the elevator buttons and rides up to the roof. A fresh summer breeze whips her hair into her frenzy as soon as she steps out onto the concrete and she coughs, spinning to face it so that she can see. The sun is hot above, burning her parting line. She squints into the light. Is that him, there, slipping into his probably-baking-hot little car?

Blink.

Nope.

Just an older student, hopping into a silver Nissan.

There are two other cars up on the roof. Neither of them are Max's.

The disappointment is crushing and she drifts to one of the walls encircling the lot, leaning heavily against it with both palms against the rough surface. Below, the world resumes, cars zipping and people crawling like ants. Her phone buzzes. It's a group chat with Candice and Harry.

Did he show??????

Tuesday sighs at Candice's message. Harry has sent twenty sweaty emojis. She taps a couple of quick replies back.

Yes

but

OMG!!!! What did you say???

I lost him afterward

Didn't get to say anything, he left too quick

Nooooooo

Harry chips in to advise that she stalk him down, and Tuesday returns her phone to her pocket.

Maybe this is what was meant to happen.

Maybe they really weren't meant to be.