*13*

Max picks me up early in the morning, about the time we should be heading for school, and not two seconds into the drive does he start to blab.

And after about fifteen minutes, he wants to know, "So what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You know all my deepest darkest secrets," he says, "So what are yours?"

Good question, Max.

I lie so that I don't have to show you who I really am.

I make up fake problems to explain why I feel so lonely and sad.

Yeah. Surprise! I know exactly what my problem is.

Dr. Amos thinks that I don't realize all this.

But I do.

But this isn't about me.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

I look at Max and I'm thinking, corpses.

"No secrets here," I say.

"Liar."

"That is the most unoriginal put down that you could say to a pathological liar."

He smiles and I'm thinking, bloody mess.

"Eddie Williams is in love with me," I say.

Sometimes these words just come flying out of my mouth.

"The drug guy?" He asks.

"Yea, he wants my bod."

"Does he?"

"Wants me to have his love child."

He lowers his eyebrows and says, "Weird."

Yea, weird is right, why would a guy want little ol' me, right Max?

"Yea," I say, looking at the window, "Pretty fuckin weird, so who's gonna be at this book signing deal anyway."

Max looks at me funny, I can see this through the corner of my eye. Yea, that's right Max, you pissed me off.

He says, "Crater Leviathan."

No way.

"Crater Leviathan is like my favorite author in the world." I say.

And Max smiles and says, "Mine too."

I'm thinking road kill.

Let me tell you a little bit about Crater Leviathan. Crater Leviathan happens to be one of the oldest living great authors. He's about 86 and he's completely senile. He wears these big shiny purple capes with gold stars all around it. He swears constantly.

He is my hero.

The person I identify most with is an 86 year old senile man.

Who knew?

He writes fictions about the desert, about secret military projects. He writes about the discontented members of a desert town that has lots of secrets, ring any bells?

I can't believe Max knows about him.

I'm thinking dead people.

Max points to a heavy looking bag in his back seat, "How many of those do you think I can get him to sign."

Max has all 8 of his books. I only have two. I read the rest in the library.

I say, "A great man once said that to write is to go wading through a pool of toxic waste in search of clean water."

"Massive Complacency," Max says, "Prologue."

Then he says, "Life is a redundant time loop and death is a mirage."

"Convolution," I say, "Chapter 12."

Max nods and smiles.

I'm thinking decapitation.

So here we are on a road to nowhere.

Didn't someone write a song about that?

We don't talk a lot for the rest of the ride, until we get lost in nowhereland.

We finally find our way to this bookstore. It's huge, three stories. A big red sign on the front of the building says, "Nowhere Books: The biggest independent book store this side of the Mississippi."

I say, "Whoa."

Max says, "Wow."

We run inside and get separated immediately in the pure chaos.

Everyone inside is wearing purple capes and quoting passages from books. It feels like a Harry Potter convention for the old and mentally distressed. That wasn't a put down, I identify with these people.

A woman comes up to me and says, "Hoobla!"

And I go, "Hoobla?"

And she nods and goes, "Hoobla."

How can you not love this place?

I could get lost in here for hours.

And I do.

Max finds me later in the art book section and his eyes are as wide as saucers, he shoves a book in my face, "Look what he wrote."

Written in the front cover of the book, it says:

Max,
Secrets are the windows to the soul.
Or is that vegetables?
I live Nowhere, you should too.
Wake up son!
-Crater Leviathan

"Weird," I say, "If we were just a smidge crazier maybe we would get it."

He nods reluctantly, "What are you reading?"

That's when I show him what my world would look like. I show him art books with huge blown glass sculptures. I tell him that when I move out, I'm living in a huge glass house. Dark red with little gold flecks inside. Dome shaped with a tubed hole at the top for a fake fireplace, built on the side of a mountain.

"Better not move to the West Coast," he says, "Too many earthquakes."

We go to the alien mythology section and look at pictures of crop circles. Funny thing is, he knows what some of them mean.

I say, "Freaky."

We go to the horticulture section and I show him my favorite tropical plants.

We go to the photography section and he shows me his favorite photographer.

I'm thinking: wow, he really does think about things other than Tess.

Then he goes, "We should go soon, I have a date with Tess at 5."

I look at him and I'm thinking, slaughterhouses.

When we get back in the car and head home, he puts his hand into one of his bags and says, "I got you something."

He pulls out a little bright green alien on a neon orange podium. He pushes a little button and it turns into a little dismembered alien. "It's stupid," he says, "but I thought it was funny, you know, like the one in Dr. Amos's office."

I look at him and I'm thinking, dismemberment.

I'm thinking gunshot wound.

I'm thinking massive head trauma.

I think I'm running out of bad things to think about.

I grab the alien and hold it up to him, "Is this you?" I ask.

He says, "Yea, pretty much."

"Which one is you." I say, pushing and releasing the button, "Happy little alien man, or unhappy little pile of alien parts?"

"I guess both."

This is the part where I realize how selfish I've been.

This is the part where I realize how nice it is to see him acting happy.

I can say this isn't about me a zillion times without believing it. I can paint him any way that I want. Truth is, this really isn't about me. His problems are mine times 100000. I'm just playing a part. I'm just observing. When he goes out on that date with Tess, I have to put my feelings aside. I have to get lost in some fantasy in my head to make it easier.

I can never be Tess.

It's unhealthy to believe I could ever be Tess.

He reaches for the toy.

"Mine," I say.

"Can I just play with it?"

"No."

He laughs, "Please?"

"Don't break it."

"I won't!"

As we drive, we watch the little alien fall down and get back up again a billion times.

"Your playing with it too much," I say, "Your gonna break it."

"I will not!" he says, "Jesus, I can always get you another one."

I hold out my hand, "Give it."

He sighs and gives me back my happy little alien, "Don't worry happy little alien," I say, "I won't let the big mean alien play with you anymore."

I'm thinking: What have I been reduced to?

I'm sitting here talking to a plastic toy like I would a dog.

Max says, "I never got to umm....thank you...for not telling anyone."

"Don't mention it."

"No really, I don't know what would have happened if anyone else found out."

"Well," I say, "I did it for purely selfish reasons, I don't want to see Roswell go down the tubes again."

This is, of course, bullshit. I did it for him. I wanted to save him.

"Well..thanks anyway."

"Yea."

You guessed it; I can't take a compliment. I'm not used to getting them very often, not used to giving them either.

When he drops me off in front of the Crashdown, I hold out the toy, force a smile on my face and say, "Little happy alien guy hopes you have fun on your date."

He smiles again. I'm thinking death, body parts, bad things, you name it.

Max says, "You know, if you keep talking through that alien, we might need to get you an extra session with Dr. Amos."

I put my finger on the little alien's head and bob it around, "Leave her alone."

After he leaves I walk into the Crashdown and slump into one of the booths. Courtney is immediately in my face, "Was that Max Evans?"

"Sure was."

"He's going out with Tess tonight, you know."

"Sure do."

And then, Courtney goes, "You better not get in Tess's way."

And I go, "I'm not in the mood Courtney, get the fuck away from me."

If I only had a camera.

As Courtney walks away, someone slides in the booth next to me and says, "That was rad."

Notice my insides cringing.

"Hi Eddie," I say monotonously. "No, I still don't want to go to the movies."

"Fine with me," he says, "we can just sit here and eat."

"Oh boy."

"Perfect," he says, "You going out with Evans?"

This is one lie I'm not willing to tell.

"Nope."

"Cool."

Eddie looks like he's been hanging out with a rock band too much. And he needs a haircut. He'd be okay looking if he got a haircut. He's wearing a leather jacket.

I say, "That's a gross jacket."

"'Cause its leather?" He asks.

"Yea."

"Same cow died to make the hamburger your probably about to eat."

Notice my blinding hypocrisy.

I smile fakely, "Well consider me a vegetarian."

"Wanna go smoke some weed?"

"Not really"

"Okay."

He gets up and says, "The jacket is pleather."

"Huh?"

"Polyvinyl blend."

"BYE."

"See you at school," he says smiling.

I wonder if he would leave me alone if I was nice to him.

Do I wanna risk it?

Maria is giving me her death glare again. I know I'm gonna have to swallow my pride and apologize one of these days. Not today, today sucks.

I go upstairs and lay on my bed, thinking about nothing for hours.

I've never had a boyfriend. Isn't that sad? I'm a senior in high school for god's sake. The only boy I ever kissed was in seventh grade and was repulsive.

But that's just me. The virgin Mary of middle class suburbia.

Would shooting me be too much to ask?

I'm thinking of cars driving off cliffs.

The phone rings around eight. It's Max. And I just know this should be good 'cause he can barely push words out of his mouth.

"Oh god," he says, "I gotta tell you something."

"Lemme guess," I say, "Your home planet called and they want their ears back."

I can say stuff like this because I'm his new best friend. Insults are an integral part of friendship.

He doesn't even laugh.

"Tess," he says shakily, "Tess wants me to help her kill somebody."

I'm thinking dead people.

I'm thinking life in prison.

I'm thinking big mistake.

...

And I say: "Oh."