"Max" Chapter 1

This is a story. An unextraordinary story about an unextraordinary boy. A boy named Maximillion Thomason. Max for short. Max lived in a city that was as equally as unextraordinary as he was in a home like many others on a street that will remain unnamed as it too is unextraordinary.

Max’s parents had always wanted a child for no particular reason. Perhaps to love. No one has ever bothered to find out as the neighbors never spoke to them and found no reason to. Mom sat at the breakfast table slowly eating oatmeal while Dad sipped from his lukewarm cup of coffee. Occasionally they would glance at Max. To make sure he was still there or breathing no one is sure. But there he sat. All 5’1”, 97lbs. of him.

“Isn’t it your birthday, Max?” Dad asked. Mom stopped eating just as the spoon of oatmeal reached her lips. Dad had not asked Max specifically. He just asked aloud leaving the question to be answered. Or not. “I could’ve sworn your birthday was today.”

“It can’t be” Mom said. “We would remember something like that, right?”

Max did not answer. He just sat and smiled while staring into his cold bowl of oatmeal. Max liked his food cold. No one ever asked him why. Either they did not care or did not need to know. He looked at Dad for a moment and blinked twice. He then placed his hand against his bowl of oatmeal and shrugged before taking his spoon and shoveling a large portion into his mouth.

“If it were his birthday he would’ve said something” Dad said. “Every kid gets excited about their birthday. Don’t they?”

Dad was not sure if this statement was correct. Truth be told neither he nor his wife could remember much about their childhoods. This suited them just fine. Dad finished his coffee and patted Max on the head awkwardly. Mom looked at her watch and frowned.

“Time for school, Max” she said aloud. Max wiped oatmeal from the corners of his mouth with his shirt collar and rose from his seat. He slung his large green backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door. “Do you have everything you need, Max?” Mom asked. Max looked at the ceiling for a moment before heading out of the door.

Though the school offered a bus program Max never used it. He chose to walk the three miles to school and three miles back daily. No one knew why. No one bothered to ask why. Along the way Max would fill his backpack with various items. Rocks. Leaves. The occasional broken bottle. No one knew what he did with these items. No one ever asked. As he neared the school a young man named Tyler emerged from a row of bushes and stood in Max’s path. Max smiled at Tyler. The smile was not returned.

“What are you so happy about?” Tyler asked Max. Max touched his chin as if deep in thought and slightly opened his mouth as if he were about to speak before putting his hand back at his side and closing his mouth. And smiling. “Are you retarded or something?” Tyler asked. Max blinked twice. “You give me the creeps.” Tyler walked away. Max entered the school. But not before placing a small red straw into his backpack.