VICIOUS (II) : peter pan ouat

How to Harden

Chapter 20

Max is sitting on a log when I find him. The archery pit isn't far off from camp, and he's shooting his bow and arrows once again. On the log beside him are half a dozen quivers of arrows, most of which are empty.

He reaches his hand into a quiver, pulling out an arrow. He shoots it, and it flies into the target set up far off from here. The target is filled to the brim with arrows, as well as the surrounding area.

It's honestly a little bit of a silly sight. The boy can't retrieve his own arrows though, so I can't do much to judge him.

"Hey." I smile, sitting down as close to him as I can get. The quivers take up most of the log.

He glances at me out the corner of his eye, than does a double take.

"I heard you were alive." His voice is quiet. "Didn't have the hope to believe it."

"Well here I am." I smile. "You got lucky."

He shakes his head. "No, you got lucky."

As much as this is true, the sweet sentiment that is supposed to accompany those words is long gone. I did get lucky. I am lucky to be alive and functioning after the Fear Run. The way Walela talked about it, I thought it would make me go mad.

Maybe I'm already mad.

The crazy don't go crazy.

"I did." I'm honest about it. "Sorry for screwing up."

He shrugs. "You were protecting your friends. I'd have done the same for Thomas, just like I'd do the same for you."

That's horrifying. That's what gets people like us dead. Like James.

"Throwing yourself into danger isn't the way to be a hero." I correct him. "It's the way to be a dead man."

"Why should I care? The days just kind of drone on and on, like one never-ending night actually. I can't walk, I can't help out. Half the time I'm alone. Why should I want to be alive?" His voice is too casual for my liking. "And that's not me asking for you to spend more time with me. You're busy, and so is everyone else. I just wish I got to be busy."

"Max." I sigh.

He picks up another arrow, aiming, and shooting it. It knocks its way into the target, slicing through a few other arrows in the process.

"I don't like being pitied." He tells me. "I just wish I could move."

It's not all that much to ask for. If we are both honest with ourselves, we are pretty similar. Max is a little more cynical than I am, and a lot more rational. He tends to embody how I want to be. Which isn't exactly great, considering he sounds like he hates himself.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to pull an Evan."

The boy who killed himself by tiger.

"I'm more annoyed than anything really." He shrugs. "I just want my legs to work."

I do too kid.

"Well, there might be a war soon anyway."

There's going to be a war, and it's going to happen soon. I can only do so much before it irrupts. If it's not me it'll be the next boy. Or the next after that. There's too many tensions for this to work.

The woods move around behind the archery range, and I watch as Johnny peeks out. He sighs, looking at me.

"You're alive now?" He spits.

Why do I always run into some sort of predicament when I'm trying to spend time with Max? Just once I'd like to sit down and have a little chat without some unforeseen threat come barreling out of the forest.