A/N Warning – this IS movie-verse. I am a big fan of the book, but it didn't really instill the fanfiction vibe that the movie did.

Max let out a deep breath, along with a puff of smoke, as he leaned against the wall of the baseball dugout. The smoke from the cigarette in his hands mixed with the steam from his breath as he closed his eyes. It was a cold, November day, and he could feel that it was about to snow, no matter how much he wished himself to be wrong. The sixteen year old took another long draw from his cigarette, finishing it off.

A sigh escaped the teenager's lips as he dropped the cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with the toe of his black converse shoe. Max pulled his black sweatshirt around him tightly as a cold wind blew over him. He had skipped Chemistry and now he had to wait until his class was over before going back into the school so as not to draw attention to himself and the fact that he had been absent without leave.

He reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans, pulling out his phone to check the time. Four more minutes. Not enough time for another cigarette, but too long to be comfortable standing in the cold. He pulled his lighter and cigarettes from his sweatshirt, deciding to smoke half of a cigarette, maybe more, and then stamp it out incomplete. Just as he was lighting it, however, someone stopped him.

"Mr. Cordon." Mrs. Ellis, the gym teacher, rounded the corner, glaring at Max. "I think you had best come with me."

"Shit." Max sighed, stamping the cigarette out.

"Shit is right, Mr. Cordon." Mrs. Ellis frowned, tapping her foot. "Come along now – this century!" The woman glared at Max and the teenager reluctantly followed. He was moving slowly, having slept badly last night, the same nightmares that had plagued him as a child having recently returned, making his already ambiguous life more confusing.

That morning, around three, Max had awoken from a dream in which Judith had come to his high school and kidnapped him, declaring that Carol would not calm down until their 'king' returned. Of course, Max had come to terms with the fact that the wild things, which he had believed to be so real when he was a child, were just part of a long, realistic nightmare, but they still clouded over his dreams, sometimes as friends, others as foes.

"Mr. Cordon, what is it this time?" The principal's secretary rolled her eyes as she saw Mrs. Ellis walk in, Max in tow.

"He was skipping class – smoking behind the dugout." Mrs. Ellis looked furious.

"Alright." The secretary sighed. "Max, you know what to do."

"Sure." Max nodded, taking a seat, waiting while the secretary called his mother. He pushed his brown hair from his green eyes as he tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair.

Twenty minutes later, his mother walked through the door. "Max, what was it this time?" She approached her son.

"Nothing," Max muttered.

"Skipping class, smoking, the usual." The secretary shrugged. "He's suspended."

"How long?" Max's mother sighed, used to this sort of thing happening by now.

"Until Monday – but Ms. Cordon, the next time this happens, he's out. This is the third time this year, one more and he's out."

"Thank you." Max's mother sighed as she grabbed Max's arm, pulling him out of the door. "Max, what is your plan, exactly?" She frowned at her son as they reached the car. "This is the only high school in this town, public, at least, and none of the private schools are going to take you if you get expelled. If you get kicked out, Max, you'll have to go to the military academy."

"I know," Max muttered, getting into the passenger's seat.

"Max, this isn't something that we can just tiptoe around! With Claire away at college, I had hoped that you would see things a little more clearly, but you're just as bad as you were – worse, even. I just don't understand what's wrong with you, Max." She sighed. "You used to be such a good kid – at least most of the time, now I'm lucky if I can get a full sentence out of you! Hell, I spend more time talking to your principal than I do talking to you."

Max didn't respond. He simply slumped against the chair as his mother rambled on and on about what a disaster he was. He hated the way that she talked about him, but he couldn't argue it, because he knew that she was right. He was a difficult teen, he knew that he caused more trouble than he was worth sometimes, but he didn't care, and that almost made him feel guilty. Almost.

"Max, hand it over." Max's mother sighed as they both got out of the car upon reaching the house.

"What?" Max looked over at his mother, raising an eyebrow as he slung one strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

"Lighter, cigarettes, hand them over." She held her hand out, palm up.

"Fine." Max rolled his eyes, handing her the lighter and the nearly finished pack of cigarettes.

"All of them." His mother narrowed her eyes.

"FINE!" Max pulled a second back of cigarettes from his pocket and threw them at her.

"You know, I don't even know when you got like this." She sighed, unlocking the door to the house. "We used to be so close."

"Yeah, and it's all my fault that we're not anymore." Max's voice dripped with sarcasm as he entered the house, dropping his pack on the hallway floor.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that maybe if you spent just a little less time with Mr. Right and a little more paying attention to what actually happens in this house, you might have noticed that I started smoking in the seventh grade – but no, it took you until two months ago to realize that I was going through more than pack a day!" Max turned, stomping towards his room.

"What?" Her jaw dropped as her son headed up the stairs, an angry blur of angst-ridden teen. "Max, come back here!"

"NO!" Max slammed the door to his bedroom, flopping down on the bed. He grabbed his headphones, jamming them over his ears and turning on his iPod, closing his eyes as the loud, steady beat of the trumpet mixed with drums, trombone, guitar, bass and whatever else composed ska music filled his ears. At this point, music was the only thing in his life that was easy and he was desperate to keep one thing in his life from getting out of hand.