Page 50 of Faux Real
Max hops off her bed and joins me on the bench in front of the mirror, a sympathetic smile on her face. “Maybe you don’t want himback,” she muses, her gaze flickering to the collage of Polaroids taped above the vanity. “Maybe you just don’t want him datingCorrine.”
I skim the dozens of photos that we’ve taken over the years, some of them nearly a decade old, my eyes landing on a picture of me, Max, and Corrine. We’re fourteen years old, laying on our tummies in a grassy field, our chins resting on our palms. We’re wearing daisy crowns, our smiles genuine, happy, blissfully unaware of how drastically things will change in the following months.
“Why do you still have that?” I ask. “You should take it down. We’re not friends anymore, she made sure of that.”
“Because it’s history, Ken, and you can’t erase history.” Max shrugs. “Plus, it’s a cute photo.”
“It was the last one we took together,” I mutter, memories of that day flashing through my mind. “It was before you and I left for Italy, remember?”
Max scowls at me. “Yes, I remember,Ken, just ‘cause I smoke weed doesn’t mean I don’t remember shit. That summer was dope. Best middle school grad present ever.”
“Yeah,” I sigh, shaking my head, a slight frown on my face as my eyes narrow in on Corrine’s innocent expression. “I still don’t get it, Max. What happened? We used to be so tight and then...nothing.”
“Fuck if I know,” Max says, grabbing a tube of Chapstick and applying a generous amount to her lips. “She grew boobs and became a bitch?”
On the first day of freshman year, I was so stoked to finally see Corrine, we were apart for two months, and with the time difference, the three of us barely talked. But apparently that summer, she made new friends, Larisa and Maya. And that was that. Friends off.
“Yeah, but she didn’t get bitchy until Sophomore year,” I muse out loud. “At least we had one year of peace.”
“Well, I guess a bitch ain’t born overnight,” Max laughs at her own joke. “Apparently, there’s a three hundred-and-sixty-five-day incubation period.”
I snort, stifling a laugh, my mood starting to lighten. “Maybe she was like abducted by aliens or something that summer and they performed all these weird experiments on her and—”
“Oh my God! Yes!” Max interjects with a boisterous laugh. “But the experiments went awry, and she gottoopowerful andtoobitchy, so the aliens were like ‘fuck this, we don’t want her!’ and returned her back to earth.”
“Or maybe she’s like the fourth Powerpuff Girl!” I chuckle, my eyes starting to tear up. “There’s Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup, andBitch!”
“Holy shit!” Max laughs, grabbing her stomach. “We should ask my mom to pitch a reboot to the Cartoon Network, we’d make some serious bank.”
“She’d do it too! It’s like her favorite kid’s show,” I chortle, remembering all the times Alice would cuddle us in bed and we’d watch old cartoons together. “She’d love it!”
Max’s bedroom door aggressively swings open, her mom busting through, a goofy grin on her face. “Whatwould I love?” Alice asks, cocking her head to the side, “tell me! I need to know! Don’t leave me out, girls!”
Max and I exchange a knowing look. Oh boy. How much did she hear? “You spying on us again,mother?” Maxine asks, crossing her arms, her tone playful and light. “I thought we talked about boundaries.”
Alice rolls her eyes, perching on the edge of Max’s bed and stealing a slice of pizza. “As the queen of this beautiful kingdom— ” she gracefully gestures around the room. “Boundaries do not apply to me.”
“Uh—huh...what do you want, mama?” Max asks, letting out a sigh. “We’re busy, can’t you tell?”
“Nothing in particular,” Alice sings, pursing her lips. “I just wanted to chat. How was Lemar’s party? Anythingscandaloushappen?”
“Kenny did edibles,” Max states, batting her eyelashes in my direction. “And then she fell into the pool.” She pauses, suppressing a laugh. “Fully clothed.”
“Max!” I whine, swatting her arm. “Don’t tell people!”
“Oh God—” Alice covers her mouth with her hand, humor sparkling in her eyes. “That’s—that’s hilarious, Ken. Honestly, I’m proud of you. You’re officially a teenager.”
“Right?” Max exclaims. “Only took her four years.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You know, Alice, most parents would scold their children for doing drugs, notpraisethem.”
Alice waves me off. “It’s just weed, honey, not a big deal. We’ve all done it.” She whips her head toward her daughter. “Somemore than others.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re a hippy,” Max retorts. This family is something else. “This is on you.”
Alice clicks her tongue. “Am I a bad mother? Should I ground you or something? Take away your phone?”
“Or...” Max coos. “You can drive us to the mall? And give me some money? I want to buy the new Animal Crossing, it looks dope.”
