-Hello dears, do you still know me? Y'know, I'm the one shipping Jefferfield. ;-D The reason for my long absence is nearly 4 months old now and all my pride and joy! :-) But enough of this intro, let's continue!-

Muses: The nine Greek Goddesses of Art (Erato, Euterpe, Calliope, Clio, Melpomene, Polyhymnia, Terpsichore, Thalia and Urania).
Max stared at the definition on her smartphone and wondered what her, of all people, had in common with one of the ancient Goddesses, whose powers were mainly singing and entertainment. Then she looked up and watched the man who had repeatedly called her a muse.
Mark casually stood in front of his students, explaining something, not paying more attention to Max than to Daniel or Taylor or one of the others.
Unobtrusively, she looked at herself in the reflective display of her phone. Yup, that's obviously what a Greek goddess looks like, Max thought, nearly panting with amusement. Inevitably, she glanced at Victoria, who was over her so-called sickness. Upright and all spruced up as ever, she was sitting at her desk. The blonde's hair was shining like gold. That was what a muse looked like in Max's imagination.
But only until she' shooting her malicious tongue off and radiates her toxicity.
A knot of rage briefly replaced the young woman's jittery nervousness. It was unbelievable that this bitch would get away scot-free!
Only when Mark Jefferson started talking about the "Everyday Heroes"-contest, Max managed to listen to the photographer.
"Fortunately, all of you have submitted their entries", Mark started off. "Which means you are, as I heard, the first class in six years where no one ducked out of the contest. Very good!" His glimpse flashed over to Max who immediately had butterflies in her tummy. Mark continued: "I'm really looking forward to go through you work – together with Principle Wells – and choose the winner. This is especially appealing as for some of you it was the first time to submit a work that was meant for the public. You've left this kind of virginity behind and you can be proud of yourself."
Hearing this, Max inevitably flushed. She wondered who in this classroom could still be called a virgin – in the biological, not the artistical sense. She immediately knew that Kate was a virgin. Daniel probably, possibly Stella and Alyssa as well, and maybe even seedy Victoria who presumably was too good for most of the guys. But Max also still had the "seal of virginity" as the kisses yesterday remained the only hot stuff to happen. Max wondered whether it would actually be Mark Jefferson who she'd have her first sexual experience with. This time, she couldn't suppress an unbelieving yet amused pant, but luckily, no one noticed as at the same moment, Hayden was sneezing thunderously.

"Classy", Alyssa said with a strained smile, pointing at the adhesive skeleton in the hallway. Someone had drawn a Hitler-mustache and a swastika-brassard on it with a Sharpie. "Inevitable", Stella commented and took a bite of her sandwich. The two girls stood in front of the English classroom together with Kate and Max, waiting for Mrs. Hoida.
Max sucked ice tea through a straw from a green juice box in her hand and absent-mindedly stared at the skeleton that some post-pubertal genius had turned into a Nazi.
Her thoughts had wandered off to the contest. She wondered whether she was playing unfair twice: First of all the meeting with Mark at Golden John's; now … well, she had some sort of relationship going on with one of the school-internal judges. She wished that she just hadn't entered.
"What do you think, who is in contention for winning the contest?", Stella asked.
Could you please stop reading my mind?
"Evan", Alyssa answered without hesitation.
"Quite possible. Kate, what do you think?"
Kate shrugged with a soft smile and said: "Everyone deserves it. Who Mr. Jefferson and Principal Wells will ultimately choose … who knows?"
"What an extremely Christian answer", Alyssa grinned.
"And you, Max?", Stella then asked.
"Who knows", Max lamely repeated Kate's words and sucked on the straw once again, until there was just air coming out of it. With an excusing wiggle of the empty juice box, Max went to the nearest trash can.
When she went back to her friends, Mrs. Hoida entered the hallway and saved her from a more detailed answer.

The English teacher didn't like phones in her class at all, so one of her more quiet students tried to unlock her device very discreetly when a message popped up. Max's stomach immediately started to tingle when she read:
Max, unfortunately, I'm in charge of the ones in detention this week, so sadly I won't manage to meet you afternoons. But don't make any plans this Friday after the party. Then you'll be completely mine.
Max softly bit her lower lip and deleted the message.
Yes, Sir!

"Okay, nerd, let's vamp you up."
A pained expression by Max. "Chloe, do you think they'll even let you in? Aren't you like banned from campus?"
Chloe laughed – a bit too merrily for Max's taste. At first, her week had dragged on like an old caramel candy, but this particular Friday, she'd nevertheless woken up with a racing heart and a knot in her stomach.
"Pshaw, they can try and stop Chloe Price from attending a Halloween party!", the punk snorted.
It was true: Halloween had always been Max's and Chloe's favourite day of the year – even better than Thanksgiving and more exciting than Christmas. Well, birthdays were great. But Halloween ranked first after them. A shit load of candy, funny costumes and scary movies – the girls had envisioned what they'd do on that day weeks in advance. More than once they'd gone from door to door as trick-or-treaters, dressed as pirate captain and first mate.
It wasn't actually Halloween today – a few more days still had to pass –, but even though she was already 18 years old, Max felt that well-known happy tingling about the autumnal scare-holiday.
But another feeling was even stronger: An unpleasant, gnawing sense that told her to stay at home, while a third, jittery inner voice wondered what Mark Jefferson might have planned with her after the party tonight.
It took a second until Max got that the fourth voice was actually Chloe's.
"Hello-ho! Talking to you, Max. My other, invisible friend of the same name has just left the room."
"What?"
Chloe made a face at her and said extra slowly: "Iiiiiiii'm – chooooooooooosing – yoooooooooour – ouuuuuuuuuuutfiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit – todayyyyyyyyyyyyy." Then she continued in a normal voice: "This is a high school party and even a shy geek like you has to come out of her shell and has to be awesome once."
"Has to be awesome", yes, but in which way?, Max thought. She tried to dissipate the thought (not very successfully, though) and said: "I once read that introverts find friends by being taken charge of by extroverts. So, thanks, I guess." Another pained expression. "But please let me stay alive while doing so."
Chloe laughed again. "Believe me, sweetie, I have something hella cool for you!"
Then she pulled out a stack of clothes and accessories, told Max how to apply her make-up and brought black nail polish to light.
When Chloe pushed her best friend in front of the mirror half an hour later, Max couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in astonishment. The young woman in the mirror looked older than usual Max, but that wasn't a bad thing as Max was often enough thought to be 16 or even younger. Also, the styled version was sexy in a way that Max had never seen in herself before (actually, she'd never thought of herself as sexy, but at least Mark Jefferson kinda seemed to feel this way).
Max wore black, pointy ankle boots whose tiny heels would make dancing possible and added at least one or two centimeters to her small height. The grey drainpipe jeans with the cool shredded look somehow managed to make her legs look less lean than usual. The red-black-checkered shirt, knotted at the level of Max's bellybutton, added that certain extra to the black spaghetti straps top. The outfit was topped off with some thin leather bracelets on the left wrist and a black velvet choker that Max liked much better than she wanted to admit. In the front, where the necklace embraced her throat, was a single, small angel's wing.
The rouge had a perfect tone for Max, just as the subtle matte lipstick. Her smokey eyes had turned out well; the black fingernails didn't look like they'd belong to a Goth-teenager but to a beautiful young adult.
The biggest change for Max was – for some reason – her hair. She wore her hair down pretty much always – of course, it was too short for most hairstyles. But now she had taken two strands of hair from the left and the right of her face, brought them together at the back of her head and fixated it with a small black hair clip. The hairdo had taken like three seconds, but Max felt very changed with it.
She looked so … unfamiliar.
She liked it. Nothing she'd wear everyday – then she'd feel masqueraded – but it was perfect for tonight.
Max smiled timidly.
"Thanks, I know", Chloe complimented herself, while also getting dressed up: dark red Doc Martens, black drainpipe jeans, a grey top, a black blazer with rolled up sleeves and a beanie of the same shade of red as the boots.
Max frowned. The checkered shirt, the ankle boots, the choker, Chloe's blazer … that didn't look like her at all.
"Since when do you buy anything besides sloppy band shirts?"
Chloe briefly paused what she was doing, then she continued to put on mascara. "These are Rachel's clothes", she said casually.
Great.
In this moment, Max would have loved to exchange those cool clothes for her own wardrobe.
Apparently, I only become sexy once I'm wearing Rachel's stuff.
But this thought was neither helpful nor positive, so Max put it aside and instead asked: "Is it really okay for her? That we're wearing her stuff?"
"Sure."
"You didn't ask her, right?"
Chloe grinned. "Nope."
Then she changed the subject: "So, what do you think? Who will win the contest?"
The brunette gulped. An acidic feeling swashed around her stomach.
It took her a bit too long to answer, but Chloe, whose forehead had already started to crimple up queryingly, graciously let it go at that when Max just shrugged.
The two girls left the Prices' house.
When they approached Blackwell Academy's natatorium, where the party took place, Max's heart and the bass from the loudspeakers boomed along in a roaring unison.