Being forced into a box is the worst.
"So, who do you guys think is the funniest member?"
"Elias, obviously."
"The kindest?"
"Zachary."
"The most patient?"
"Definitely Asher."
Everyone's name gets a turn except mine. It makes me feel average. How did I even get into a pretty successful group?
"The one that seems the most like Batman?"
"Hmm, I think Max?"
What? That's the stupidest question I've ever heard! They probably only added it so someone could say my name for something…
After the interview, I see an edit of myself a few days later. A crossover with Batman, just great. I preferred being called mysterious than this comparison to a fictional superhero that's way cooler than me anyways.
I'm not the smartest, or the strongest, or the fastest-
"Is that your English homework?"
"Oh, yeah. Reading the book has been such a pain."
"Do you want me to read it to you?"
"No, it's okay. I can always find an audiobook."
But Jeremiah has already stolen the book from my desk, flipping it open and starting to read.
Maybe I'm the one that does the most listening. Being observant comes naturally to me. Like how he only sounds loud when he's singing or trying to be funny, but actually knows how to be quiet.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"No… sorry-"
"We should go spy on our parents."
"Oh, at the mall?"
"Yeah, I heard Clarissa was invited too."
"Sure…"
It's as if we're on a mission or something. Jeremiah is wearing sunglasses indoors and it looks super dumb.
"Can you even see?"
I snatch them off his face, and he only stares. Two coughs is enough to get him to divert his attention.
"They're over there, I think."
He's right. Dylan, Alphonse, Clarissa, and the others I don't know as well.
"Do you have a mom?"
What possessed me to ask that? I have no idea. Out of all people I should know how invasive of a question that is.
"Yeah, she's over there."
Ah. Jeremiah really doesn't look like either parent, but that's because he's mixed. I see his dad pull out a chair for her and my frown gets pointed out.
"Are you alright?"
"Clarissa has a crush on my dad."
Why is he laughing now? I let out a sigh, and roll my eyes. Is it that funny?
"So no one likes you, then."
"What- the fangirls totally do!"
"Is there a bit of jealousy, hmm?"
"I'm not sure. I think they look good together, but I don't want Dylan to forget about me."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he should move on with his life and meet new people."
"It sounds like you're the one dating him."
I blink twice, and can't hide my embarrassment. Maybe he doesn't get it.
"But I'm adopted. If they date, who will get ice cream with me when-"
"Dylan will."
"But what if I want to rant about-"
"Then tell Dylan about it."
Despite living with him for a decade, I still wonder if I'm worthy of being a part of his family. No clue why, though.
"Or you could talk to me."
"I'm already talking to you."
"So what's the problem?"
Huh… is there an issue with any of this? I'm a legal adult, yet I'm getting upset like a child. A ten year old.
"Shhh, we have to be quiet. They might be on to us."
My hand shoves his face to shut him up. We walk towards the food court, where they're sitting. The adults are laughing, and I see Dylan smile at Clarissa.
I'm teasing him for that one later.
"Hey maxi pad, I'm hungry…"
"Don't call me that, I'd rather you call me Maxine."
"Maxine?"
"Nevermind- maxi pad is fine."
"I'm so hungry I could eat Dylan-"
"What are you talking about? We ate pancakes at our dorm."
"My stomach is a bottomless pit, you know… yet my metabolism hides the evidence."
"But I don't want them to see us."
"Why not?"
"Because they'll know we were spying on them!"
"Hey, dad!"
I want to fall in that bottomless pit of his stomach so they can't see me. But they do, maybe because I'm dressed in all black like a weirdo. Unfortunately, it's become part of my brand.
Against my will, Jeremiah drags me towards the table. I stare at Clarissa, then Dylan.
"We also came here to eat, what a coincidence!"
Dylan's eyes tell a message on their own. My gaze says "yes, I knew you guys would be here" and "guess who dragged me into this".
"We're sitting at a different table."
My voice is quiet, but Jeremiah listens. He doesn't mind that I chose a corner that makes us look like total loners, and he even brings the food all by himself to our table.
"Panda Express?"
"What, is it too spicy for your white tastebuds?"
"No… I'm half Mexican."
Was that the wrong thing to say? He seems skeptical, and I can understand.
"Your mom or your dad?"
"I don't remember. Some document said so, and I just believed that's how I got my name?"
"What do you mean?"
"Maxican."
We both laugh at how corny that was, and enjoy the food together. Yet, it's like he's even more surprised that I can use chopsticks.
"Are you bilingual?"
"Yes."
"¿Cómo estás, Mamacita?"
He goes speechless at my reply. In Mandarin. I flip my chopsticks around and poke the other end at his cheek.
"I guess I know more Mandarin than you do, and I'm not even Asian."
"Well, I know more Spanish, then!-"
"No, no sabes."
Jeremiah's scoff puts a slight smile on my face, and I can't help wanting to tease him.
"At least your charisma redeems you."
I catch his eyes gazing at my face for longer than I feel comfortable with, but all he asks is-
"Is that what drew you in as well?"
"Not entirely…"
Our eating continues in awkward silence for a few more minutes until we see the parents leave, and Jeremiah grabs my wrist, dragging me to the nearing clothing store.
"Why are we even shopping if we came here to spy?"
"You gotta get yourself out of those depressing clothes, Max. Good thing you're with the most stylish member of the group."
"That dumb interview doesn't mean anything…"
"Oh yeah, Batman? I can see why you think that."
A huff escapes me faster than the clothes falling into my hands. Looks expensive.
"I'm not buying all of this, you spoiled brat."
"Why not just do a little photoshoot then?"
"I'd have to get the clothes then-"
"Not in the changing room, you don't."
Why I agreed to this, I'm not entirely sure. Though it's actually not as weird as I thought. I pull my shirt off and try a couple outfits on, trying to pose.
"You're more photogenic than you give yourself credit for, you know?"
"Thanks…?"
"Do you not know what a compliment is?"
"Well it's not like anyone's going to see these pictures-"
I'm halfway taking off the last shirt when he jumps next to me, pulling out his phone again and taking a selfie with me. Shirtless, mind you.
"I will."
"That's creepy, and if you said that to a girl you'd get a restraining order."
"You're right. Good thing I'd only say that to a friend then."
"Yeah…"
That word sounds almost irritating to me. Is that what we are? Friends? We're just members of the same group. Roommates at most. Is that hostile to think? I'm not sure why I do.
"We have practice in a bit, we should probably go."
The murmur seems quiet than my earlier words. He pays for some of the clothes even though I'm against it, and I cross my arms.
"Why are you-"
"Is "cause I can" a good enough answer for you?"
"Not really…"
I pull out my phone, expecting to see an edit of our group when I open social media. However, my eyes widen as a photo of Dylan and Clarissa on a picnic surfaces on my feed
Where even was this? And when did they get so close…