Max - Chapter 12

 The alarm screamed like a banshee in heat. I groaned, slapped it off, and immediately buried myself under the blanket like a vampire avoiding daylight.

Fuck me sideways.

My skull felt like someone had opened it up in the middle of the night and filled it with gravel and regret. I groaned again, rolled onto my back, and squinted at the ceiling like it had personally offended me.

Why did I do this to myself?

Oh right.

Because I'm an idiot. A very cool, very hungover idiot.

I sat up slowly, every movement sending another sharp pulse through my forehead. My mouth tasted like stale pizza and floorboards. I blinked a few times, then forced myself to glance at the clock on my bedside table.

9:50 a.m.

For exactly one second, my brain processed it.

Then panic hit like a brick.

"OH FUCK."

I practically launched myself out of bed, tripping over a hoodie I'd left on the floor and slamming into my desk chair on the way down. The pain didn't even register.

I was too busy scrambling for jeans, a shirt that didn't smell like last night, and the location of my damn shoes.

My phone buzzed on the floor. Probably Jordan wondering if I'd bailed. Or Kate, already sharpening the knife she'd use to gut me in front of a paying customer. Probably both.

Now, before you start in with the judgment:

"Oh, Max, you're not supposed to drink, you're underage."

Yeah, yeah, I know. Save it for someone who didn't just run out the door with one shoe on and toast in their mouth like a cartoon character from hell.

I sprinted down the street, boots untied, shirt half-buttoned, hangover in full swing. The sun was way too bright, and the sounds were way too loud. A car honked and I flinched like it shot me. Some dude with a dog glared at me as I nearly tripped over the leash.

Sorry, mate. Don't mind me, just a teenage disaster on his way to fry chips and dodge knives.

The pub was already buzzing by the time I arrived. I burst through the back door and stumbled into the kitchen, chest heaving, heart pounding, headache going boom boom boom in perfect sync with my regrets.

"I'm here…" I gasped, practically folding over the prep bench like a Victorian woman fainting in a corset.

Jordan didn't even look up. He just kept chopping carrots, casual as ever.

"You're lucky you're a minute early, or else Kate would've whooped your ass," he said, flicking a slice of carrot into the container like it owed him money.

"Please…" I groaned, rubbing my temples like it would help. "Just… shush. Too loud. Everything's too loud."

He smirked but said nothing. The bastard knew. He knew.

I grabbed my apron from the hook and slipped it over my head, trying not to gag at the lingering smell of oil and sweat. The kitchen felt twice as hot as usual. The fryer hissed like it was laughing at me. The fluorescent lights were basically a personal attack.

"Rough night?" Jordan finally asked, finally turning his head.

"Like I got hit by a truck made of tequila and regret," I muttered, tying the apron behind my back with shaky fingers.

"Beer."

"What?"

"You drank beer last night. Remember? We were hanging out, and you kept calling it 'liquid courage' and tried to fight your reflection."

I groaned again, this time more out of emotional pain. "Christ."

He snorted and handed me a knife.

"Chop onions. It'll help you sweat it out."

I took the knife, grumbling, and moved to the cutting board. My hands felt like wet spaghetti noodles. Every movement of the blade made my temples throb harder. But I focused. Slice. Slice. Slice.

If I puked in the sink, no one would be surprised.

And honestly? That was comforting in a weird way.

~~~

My phone was vibrating like crazy in my pocket, practically trying to crawl out onto the table. It hadn't stopped buzzing since the start of the lunch rush. By the time I got out on break, I already knew what was waiting for me.

The group chat.

And sure enough, when I sat down on the back bench behind the pub, half in the sun, half in the shade, apron still dusted in flour, I opened my phone to see a tidal wave of unread messages.

41 new messages.

Jesus.

I scrolled up a little and read from the top, smirking to myself.

Phoebe- Hey guys, so I was thinking… what if we have a party to end the year??

Dion- OH hell yes. Let's gooo. Max, my man, you got any spots?

Phoebe- Also, before I forget, I'm getting my allowance from my dad this week so I'll get Dion to buy the drinks xD

Dion- Say less. I'll bring the good shit 😎

Adrian- You're not even legally allowed to buy milk without ID these days lol

Dion- Let me live, Adrian

Thea- Can we NOT get arrested again this time? Just putting it out there

Aria- A night under the stars doesn't sound bad though

Zach: I vote we do it somewhere with a fire pit. I've got a speaker and the perfect playlist.

Phoebe- Ugh no, not your "alt boy sad summer" mix again, please

Zach- It's a masterpiece and you know it.

I chuckled, holding the phone close to my chest for a second as I leaned back against the brick wall. The sun was warm against my face, the faint sounds of traffic blending with the low clatter of the kitchen behind me. It was one of those early spring afternoons where everything smelled like grass and smoke, and time felt like it was moving in slow motion.

I took a breath, then scrolled to the bottom of the chat, where the messages had started turning into logistics. Dates, who was bringing what, arguing over themes (Dion really wanted a toga party for some reason), and vague threats about who was not allowed on aux cord duty.

I started typing slowly, thumbs fumbling a little over the screen.

Max- I might know a place. It's quiet. Abandoned farm near the creek trail, used to go with my cousins. Could be decent.

I hit send, and the message dropped to the bottom of the thread.

Almost instantly:

Dion- YESSSSS Max coming in clutch

Phoebe- Okay, wait, that actually sounds awesome. Can we see it this weekend?

Thea- If it's not haunted. Or full of spiders. Or haunted by spiders.

Adrian- You all deserve haunted spiders.

I laughed out loud, the sound echoing quietly off the wall behind me. Just for a moment, the weight of everything lifted: school stress, work stress, family stress. Gone.

It was only September, which meant we still had time. Time to plan. Time to mess it up and fix it again. Time to make something stupid and memorable out of what was left of the year.

And as much as I pretended to roll my eyes at all their chaos, the truth was, I needed this. I needed them.

I locked my phone, slipped it back into my pocket, and stood up, brushing crumbs off my apron.

Time to finish the shift.

The party could wait...

For now.

~~~

The sun was starting to dip by the time we reached the end of the trail. The last bit of the walk had been through dry, shoulder-high grass that clung to our jeans and socks like it wanted to follow us home. The old farm sat at the base of a hill, its paint long peeled, roof dented in spots, windows boarded or broken. It looked like it had been forgotten by the world.

"Dude…" Adrian stared up at the two-story house with wide eyes. "This is where people die in horror movies."

"I'm not dying sober," Dion muttered, shaking a can of Coke like it was going to turn into something stronger if he shook it hard enough.

"Relax," I said, walking ahead toward the front porch. The wood creaked under my boots. "No ghosts, just dust and possibly a few old rats. My cousins and I used to crash here during school holidays. It's fine."

Victor leaned on his cane and stared up at the house. "It's definitely haunted."

"It's not haunted," I replied, turning back to the group. "It's atmospheric."

"I don't like that word," Thea muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. "It's what people say before they get possessed."

Aria was already off to the side, taking photos of the trees with her old Polaroid camera. "I like it. Feels...quiet," she said, snapping a shot. "Like it remembers things."

"That's not ominous at all," Zach muttered, pulling a cobweb off his jacket.

Phoebe stepped carefully through the doorway beside me, brushing her hair out of her face. "Alright, where would the party actually be?"

I pointed inside. "There's a big open room in the back. Still has a fireplace. We could string up lights, bring in beanbags or couches from the curb, whatever. We'll have to sweep, but it's got space."

Thea peeked through one of the broken slats. "And no roof leaks?"

I shrugged. "I mean... the corner near the fireplace probably leaks when it rains. But we're aiming for good weather, right?"

"God help us," she groaned.

Victor was quiet, standing near the porch and staring at the house like he could see something the rest of us couldn't. I was about to ask him what was up when Dion called out from around the back.

"GUYS, THERE'S A SHED! I CALL DIBS ON TURNING THIS INTO A BAR!"

"You're not bartending," Phoebe called back immediately.

"Then who is?!"

"Anyone but you!"

They kept bickering as we made our way inside, the old timber floor groaning beneath our weight. Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the boards, casting long shadows across the dusty walls. Bits of old furniture were still scattered around, broken chairs, a rotting dresser, what looked like the remains of a mattress long surrendered to time.

Aria ran her fingers over the wall, pausing near an old picture frame that had fallen and cracked on the floor. "Feels like something sacred happened here," she said softly.

"You guys ever hear yourselves talk?" Adrian said. "If I die here, I'm haunting you specifically."

I laughed. "You'll be fine. Come on, let's check out the back room."

It was exactly how I remembered it: big open walls, an old stone fireplace, and just enough room for bad dancing and worse decisions.

"We're gonna have to clean this up," Phoebe said, kicking an empty bottle aside with her boot. "But it's kind of perfect."

"Rustic vibes," Zach added, setting his phone to video as he did a slow pan of the room. "I could definitely build a playlist for this."

"You've already been banned from aux," Victor said flatly.

"I HAVE TASTE, VICTOR."

We stayed there a while longer, measuring the space, tossing around ideas, poking through old drawers, and arguing about who had to bring speakers. Aria wandered out toward the tree line behind the house, pausing to look at something none of us could see.

She didn't say much after that.

Eventually, when the sun dipped low enough that the shadows grew teeth, we started to head back.

Phoebe looped her arm through mine. "You sure about this place, Max?"

I nodded. "It's gonna be perfect."

The creak came from upstairs, long, slow, and loud enough to cut straight through our laughter.

We froze like statues.

The beam of my torch trembled slightly in my grip as I slowly aimed it up the narrow, shadow-choked stairwell. Dust floated in the light like disturbed ghosts.

None of us moved.

Thea's voice cut through the silence, barely above a whisper. "Is there… someone here?"

The creaking stopped.

A beat of silence.

"BOO!"

A figure leapt out from the shadows just beyond the base of the stairs. All of us screamed, loud and panicked, voices overlapping like a scene out of a bad teen horror film.

"NAH, GET FUCKED, CUNTS!" Adrian yelped, spinning around and bolting out the front door like his life depended on it.

Phoebe let out a squeak and clung to Thea's arm. Victor stumbled back, nearly losing his balance, and Zach actually fell on his arse with a grunt.

The figure doubled over in laughter, wheezing like they'd just won the comedy Olympics.

I scrambled to refocus the torch, and the light landed on a familiar smirk.

"Are you serious right now?" Zach groaned from the floor, hand over his heart. "Hayden, you asshole."

Hayden straightened up, brushing dust off his hoodie and jeans. He looked completely unbothered, like he hadn't just given everyone heart palpitations.

I stared at him. "How long have you even been here?"

He grinned. "Longer than you guys, definitely. Snuck in through the window around 1. Place has an upstairs balcony. Killer view."

"You're kidding me," Thea muttered, still catching her breath.

"Not even a little." Hayden looked pleased with himself, like a cat who'd just knocked something off a shelf on purpose. "You lot are loud, by the way. Could hear you halfway across the paddock."

Dion poked his head back through the doorway, clearly having run after Adrian. "You all good? No ghosts?"

"No ghosts," Phoebe replied. "Just Hayden being a psycho."

Hayden gave a small bow. "Thank you, thank you."

Zach stood up and wiped dust off his hoodie. "Why do you look like you crawled through a chimney?"

Hayden looked down at himself; his pants were streaked with dirt, his hoodie looked like it had seen war, and his sneakers had definitely lost a battle with a cobweb. He shrugged casually. "Oh, that. I've only been here a few hours. Just chilling. Took a nap in a sunbeam like a cat. Explored the attic. You know, normal stuff."

Victor raised a brow. "You napped in this house?"

"Yup." He stretched, like he was proud of that fact. "Bit of a creaky mattress upstairs, but hey, I'm not picky."

"Dude," Thea muttered, rubbing her face. "You are so unwell."

He grinned wider. "So a party's happening, yeah? 'Cause this place could be epic if we hang up some lights and clean out the literal family of spiders living in the kitchen."

Phoebe sighed, finally recovering. "Yes. Party. But not if someone gives me another heart attack."

Hayden gave a small salute. "No more jumpscares. Promise. Probably."

I snorted, handing the torch to Dion, who was still recovering from his near-death scare. "He's your problem now."

The group slowly began to settle again, tension finally bleeding out of the room. Aria had wandered toward the fireplace, taking mental notes, and Thea was muttering about bringing sage next time "just in case."

Hayden stood beside me, arms crossed as he looked around the shadowy space like he belonged here more than the ghosts ever could.

"You really weren't gonna tell us you were here?"

"Nah," he said, a grin tugging at his lips. "Ruins the surprise."