I really was taking this stalker thing to an extreme this evening.
When Maxx reached the front of the line, he scanned his card. Then he scanned it again. I watched as his mouth formed a thin line and his face flushed red as he swiped his ID card over and over again.
I peeked over his shoulder and read the machine. Insufficient funds. Maxx looked back toward the corner table, where he had left the boy. He picked up the trays and started to walk away with them.
The woman working behind the cash register called after him. “You can’t take that! You haven’t paid for it!” she yelled. Maxx stopped and looked around, realizing he suddenly had the attention of most of the people in the commons.
The smirking look of confidence that he typically wore was replaced by embarrassment and something that looked a lot like panic.
Before the woman could approach him, I stepped in front of her and held out my student ID card. “I’ll pay for it,” I said shortly, giving her my version of the stink eye. Hey, I could pull off intimidating when I wanted to.
Maxx, realizing I was there and had come to his rescue, looked ready to argue. I shot him a warning look and turned back to the lady, who had a nasty case of psoriasis and was obviously looking to wield what little bit of authority she had in her sorry life.
“You should just go ahead and swipe this. The line is getting pretty huge,” I commented dryly, daring her to argue with me.
Bitchy cafeteria lady grabbed my card with an indignant huff and quickly swiped it, practically shoving it back into my hand. “Thank you,” I called out sweetly, depositing my still-empty tray back on the stack.
Maxx hadn’t waited for me; he was already across the room. It’s not like I expected a thank-you or anything, but an acknowledgment of some type would have been nice. Clearly manners were a foreign concept to him.
I followed Maxx back to his table. He couldn’t get rid of me that easily. I was more than a little interested in the boy he had snuck into the commons, why he had loaded up the trays with enough food to feed an army, and why he couldn’t even look me in the eye after I had stepped in to help him.
I approached the table and could hear the young boy talking to Maxx in an excited voice. “Thanks, man. I’m starving!” he said sincerely. Looking at the frail boy with hollow cheeks and tired eyes, I knew that he meant it. He looked like he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a while.
It was clear that he and Maxx were related in some way. They both had been graced with a head full of thick blond waves and the same blue bedroom eyes. But where Maxx was tall and broad, the younger boy was thin and slight, though it was hard to tell if that had more to do with diet and lifestyle than with genetics.
From the protective way Maxx interacted with him, as well as the clear family resemblance, I figured they were siblings. As I watched them, I recognized that almost-tender nurturing all too well. And I felt a moment of connection with Maxx that made my chest ache from missing my sister.
Maxx slid one full tray to the boy, who attacked the food as though he would never eat again. He smiled down at the younger boy in a way that made him even more attractive, something I hadn’t thought possible.
I hung back, blatantly eavesdropping.
“Why aren’t you eating at school?” Maxx asked.
The younger boy looked up with those blue eyes that were so much like Maxx’s and shook his head. “Uncle David hasn’t paid my overdue lunch charges in two months. Sometimes Cory will give me part of his lunch, but I feel, like . . . pathetic asking,” the boy said, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.
“What about food at the house? Can’t you make yourself a packed lunch?” Maxx asked, becoming more agitated.
The boy wouldn’t look at Maxx; he was too focused on filling his mouth with as much food as possible. “Yeah, if I want to bring cat food and beer for lunch,” he replied, drinking some of his soda.
Maxx’s brow furrowed, and I could tell he was angry. “I gave that ass**le enough money to cover whatever you need for months. You’re telling me there’s no f**king food in the house? And you don’t have money to cover lunch at school? Where the f**k did it all go?” Maxx snarled, and the boy shrugged.
“He hasn’t been home in over a week. He probably went to Atlantic City again,” the boy said, seeming unconcerned even as his older brother seethed beside him.
Maxx smacked the table with his hand. “That money is for you! Not for him to dick around with! I swear, I’m gonna f**king kill that bastard!” Maxx’s voice rose, and he looked around to see if he had been overheard. And then his eyes fell on me.
Busted.
Maxx’s eyes met mine, and they narrowed in annoyance. Obviously he was not happy to see me.
I walked to stand next to the table and smiled down at the boy. I tried not to laugh at the way he was now staring up at me with his mouth hanging open. He had a smear of potatoes on his chin, and I thought about wiping it off. But I didn’t want to give the poor thing a heart attack if I touched him.
I turned back to Maxx, who was refusing to make eye contact, his head bowed down as though he found the table really interesting. I stared at the top of his curly head, willing him to look at me, but he was doing a great job of pretending I wasn’t there.
“How’s it going, Maxx?” I asked, pouring just enough sugar into my voice to be obnoxious.
Maxx’s shoulders stiffened, but he still refused to look up. He pushed some peas around on his plate. “Fine, thanks,” he said through gritted teeth. I knew without him having to say a word that it irked him that I had paid for their food. I got the distinct impression that Maxx was used to taking care of things and balked at the thought of accepting charity of any sort.
I hadn’t meant to make him feel like a charity case. But there was something in the way he had looked as he stood there—his trays full of food to feed his kid brother that he couldn’t pay for—that made me want to help him.
But I could tell my help hadn’t been wanted or appreciated.
I glanced at the younger boy, who was still staring at me with his mouth slightly agape. “Who’s this? Your brother?” I asked, giving the boy a 100-watt smile.
He grinned back and looked over at Maxx, who continued to stare holes into the table. His smile slipped a bit as he recognized his brother’s hostile demeanor. He looked from Maxx to me, as though trying to figure out the source of the tension.
“Uh, yeah, I’m Maxx’s younger brother, Landon. How do you know Maxx?” he asked, shoveling another mouthful of food into his mouth. Finally, Maxx’s eyes met mine and communicated an unspoken plea. His embarrassment and anger faded away, replaced by a request for me to stay silent.