of mother or father taken many years ago.
You see them as you remember them.
But as people live on, they change completely.
That is why I think a photograph can be kind."
- Albert Einstein
Chapter 10
The Polaroid's Secret
When Max got home that night, he sat in his box licking the cinnamon off his Cinnamon Toast Crunch and thinking about the mess at the ice cream place. He thought about how Nick hadn't gotten mad at him, how Nick hadn't screamed and yelled... and he thought about how vastly different Nick was from everyone else he'd ever known...
Nick, however, wasn't thinking about the mess at the cafe. Nick, when he got home, laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the scars on his back. He closed his eyes.
Nick leaned over the bed and reached underneath. There was a cardboard box there, and he carefully lifted the lid off the box and started filtering through the things inside... his high school diploma, the acceptance letter to the college, his car's title, various poems and pictures... a locket that belonged to his mother.. and then, at the very bottom, an old, fading Polaroid photograph.
He rolled back onto the bed and held the Polaroid up over his head, staring up at it instead of the ceiling.
It was the only one he had left of them all together. It was a Christmas picture, taken the year before he went to live with Mimi, possibly to the minute. Their family Christmas tree stood behind them, glowing happily, simply, wonderfully. There were no presents, but they didn't need them, it seemed. His mother was kneeling down on the carpet, wearing a beautiful white dress with tiny holly and red berries printed on it and a red apron tied around her waist. She had the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen in his entire life... and she had her arms around him, a tiny five year old boy with the stars of joy gleaming in his eyes.
But the most amazing part was his father. Standing straight, with focused, serious eyes, a scotch in his hand yet untouched, and a smile on his lips. Nick stared up at that smile and wondered if he still fooled people with it, like he used to.
Like he almost managed to fool Nick every time he looked at the picture.
Nick remembered when he was little and he'd look at that Polaroid and believe in the lie that it told the world. We're fine every face in the image screamed, right down to the little Santa Clauses on the pajamas he'd been wearing. His own eyes stared out at him, telling him we're fine, really, you were happy here.
But the Polaroid kept secrets.
There was a knock on the door and Nick sat up and chucked the Polaroid back into the shoebox, jamming the lid on. "Yeah-uhh?" he called.
The door creaked open and his room mate, Raine, a petite girl with short, spikey black hair and deep, deep brown eyes poked her head around the frame. "I'm making hot chocolate," she said, smiling at him, "Do ya want?"
Raine was basically Tinkerbelle, if Tink was a normal sized human being and also Native American.
"Nawh I'm good," Nick answered. He pushed the shoe box back under the bed. His voice was thick.
Raine pushed the door open a bit further and leaned against the jamb. "What's up?" she asked, crossing her arms and legs and raising an eyebrow at Nick. He shook his head. "Oh come on Nickles, I can tell something is. You don't just sit around all mopey like for no reason. Spill the beans."
Nick hesitated. He'd never really told Raine much about his past, she barely was aware that he was the product of a group home, not to mention how he'd landed there. He didn't really feel like bridging that gap tonight, either. "There's this kid I'm working with," he said instead, turning the conversation to Max, "And he's in a box."
Raine laughed, "A box?"
"Yeah, a cardboard box."
Raine lowered to the carpet and crossed her legs sitting... well... Indian style. "Why?"
Nick took a deep breath. "I think it's because it's something he can control to an extent. There's a world in the box and he can control that world and it's safe because it's his. He can choose who gets in, who can see him, et-cetera."
Raine gnawed her lower lip. "Abuse case?"
Nick thought of Max's scar. "Yeah."
"Bad?" she asked.
Nick nodded.
"Poor kid," she shook her head. "How long have you been working with him?"
"I dunno," Nick answered, "A week maybe. I'm just trying to be his friend, you know, nothing like really, super psycho-analytical."
"Sometimes that's what it takes with kids," Raine said with a shrug. "Any progress?"
"He talks now," Nick answered, smirking.
"So he lived in a box and he didn't talk?"
Nick nodded, "Yeah."
"Wow," Raine shook her head, "Lonely lil guy I'm guessing, huh?"
Nick shrugged, "I was the same way when I was his age."
Raine studied him a long moment. She struggled to her feet. "You're still pretty quiet."
Nick snorted. "Quiet? Me?"
"Yeah, you seem introverted."
Nick shook his head, "That's only because you haven't seen my wild side yet."
Raine smiled, "Well, I wouldn't mind seeing it sometime." She turned back to the door. "You sure you don't want hot chocolate?" she asked.
"Yeah, thanks though," Nick answered, flopping backwards onto the mattress as the door closed behind her.
