Chalk - My Roommate's A Stripper?! Short Story
Here is a little, short story thing that I wanted to try and write related to "My Roommate's A Stripper?!". This story takes place about 3 to 4 years before "Roommate", a short scene of Max in a high school math class. I wanted to write scene experimenting with what is essentially her un-diagnosed PTSD, so here it is.
NOTICE: If you are not currently up to date with "My Roommate's A Stripper?!", this does contain spoilers. You have been notified.
Max blew out a sigh as she tried her best to endure yet another boring pre-algebra class. The teen never understood the need to learn any of this stuff, nor how she could ever apply it to any real world setting, despite the claims of her math teacher. Said teacher, Mr. Johnson, continued to lecture on about how to solve equations for variables and a whole bunch of other nonsense that Max didn't even pretend to care about. She just sat at her desk, head in hand, blankly copying notes while her teacher wrote some equations on the board.
"Alright class," Mr. Johnson suddenly turned to face his students, "I want you all to take a few minutes to solve these equations for yourselves. Then, we'll have a few volunteers come up to the board and show us their attempts."
'Oh, how fun...' Max groaned internally, copying the equations down so she could try to solve them. They weren't really too hard to solve actually, she just didn't see the point of needing to figure out what 'X' was with all these other numbers. 'Why are there letters with the numbers anyway? Why does this letter need to be a number? Why can't it just be an X?'
Still, she managed to get solutions for all the listed problems. Max didn't know if they were the right answers, but then again, she didn't really care. It wasn't like she was going to volunteer to go up to the board and embarrass herself in front of the whole class, even if she had gotten the right answer.
"Alright, that should be long enough." Mr. Johnson called out after a short time. "So, who wants to try and solve the first problem?" The golden lab's eyes gazed across the room, looking through the sea of raised hands to find those few students were trying to hide from the task. They fell on the young skunk, who was doing her best to look anywhere else. "Miss Douglas, how about you? I don't think you've solved a problem on the board yet this year."
Max flinched as her name was called. She hated being called "Miss", too. It just felt way too formal for her. Blushing nervously, she glanced at her notebook, clearing her throat. "I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson, but I'm not sure I got these right."
"That's okay," the teacher smirked, not buying it for a second. "You can learn more from your mistakes than your successes anyway. Being wrong here just means you have more to learn, and since this is new material, that is to be expected."
Max frowned, feeling rather defeated by that logic. She knew Mr. Johnson wouldn't really give her a hard time if it was wrong anyway. But at the same time, she really didn't want to go to the board. Maybe it was time for an old standby to get out of it. No harm in a little white lie. "Well, my doctor said I might have a chalk allergy, so it might be safer if I don't, y'know, for medical reasons."
His disarming smiled already told her that wasn't going to work either. "I'm allergic to chalk, too." He held up his hand, the fur on his fingertips thin and patchy. "At most it will just dry out your skin a bit, and then only if you keep contact with it for a long time and often. This will just be for a minute." His honest, canine smile destroying her defenses. "I'm sure you can do it if you try."
Max just glared at him for a moment, before relenting to his gaze. With a barely audible grunt she rose from her desk and marched to the chalkboard, grabbing a piece of chalk and quickly beginning to solve the problem. She wrote the numbers and symbols down, going through the motions in a bit of a daze, just wanting to get this over with. As she worked, her mind began to wander; when was the last time she had used chalk anyway? It had been a while since she had felt a piece of chalk between her fingers, or had really smelled chalk dust in the air. The last time she had smelled that was when...
Suddenly, Max froze, her eyes going wide, the chalk pressed against the board mid equation. She had caught a strong smell of chalk, and the memories of other smells soon flooded her mind. The smell of chalk, of burnt rubber and hot asphalt, and of blood. She looked at the chalk in her hand, and noticed it was yellow, just like that piece she had been using all those years ago. Her mind quickly played through those memories: of her playing with yellow chalk on the sidewalk, coloring in a sun, and of her brother coming to pick her up from Cheryl's house.
"No..." She muttered, dropping the chalk. She watched it fall, moving as if in slow motion, hearing it clatter against the floor. But it wasn't what she saw. No, that chalk didn't hit the classroom floor. It fell at her feet into a puddle of fresh blood, splattering a few droplets on her paws. She collapsed at her brother's side, shaking him, trying to wake him up, but to no avail.
Max turned her hands over, feeling the blood mix with the chalk dust in her fur. Her whole body began to shake as tears formed in the corners of her eyes. "No... Danny... "
"Miss Douglas?" The voice sounded so distant, and Max barely recognized it as she stared at the blood on her hands; her brother's blood. She felt her heart racing, her entire body shaking as a few tears streaked down her cheeks. "Miss Douglas? Miss Douglas!" A sudden shake of her shoulder brought Max back to reality, and she looked up to see Mr. Johnson looking back at her, worry in his eyes. "Miss Johnson, what's wrong? Do you need to see the nurse?"
"I'm sorry..." She muttered, before suddenly collapsing to her knees with a wail. The memories refused to leave her mind now. It felt like she was there, all over again, reliving that horrible day once more, with no way to change it. All she could do was cry, sobbing as the tears fell, barely able to say anything more than "Danny... wake up..." over and over again.
Her teacher had no idea what to do, as she was no longer responding to him. He quickly looked around the room, noticing that all the other students were either chuckling or watching with intent. The only one that was out of her seat was Miss Goodwin, who he knew was at least a friend of Miss Douglas. "Miss Goodwin, could you please take her to the nurse. I'll write you both passes."
"Of course!" Cheryl Goodwin, Max's best friend, was at her side in an instant, doing her best to get the skunk to her paws. "C'mon Maxi. It's okay. It's over, honey. Let's go sit down and relax for now."
"W-where's Danny?" Was all Max asked as she was escorted out of the room, still sobbing and barely able to stand.
Mr. Johnson blew out a sigh after they left, quickly shooting a very dirty look at any of the other students he dared to even chuckle. "Alright class, let's all be adult here and try to continue on with the lesson. Now, who else wants to try and solve these questions?" He knew he had to keep order after that scene. He certainly wasn't going to ask Miss Douglas to go to the board ever again.
Max missed the rest of her classes that day, stuck in her hysteria and memories until later that evening, when her mother would finally get her to calm down enough to go to sleep. Even then, the torment continued, her dreams plagued with the memory of her brother's death. That one event would lead to weeks of torment for the poor girl, before she could finally lock all the memories away once more.