And Liz… Admit it, Max thought. Now you've come to the real reason you're feeling good. Liz Ortecho doesn't hate you anymore.

He had come so close to permanently messing things up with Liz. He'd kissed her and then told her he wanted to be just friends. Then he'd kissed her again and told her he wanted to be just friends again. And then when she decided to go out with another guy, Max had followed her like some kind of lunatic stalker. Not exactly something a friend would do.

So Liz had gone into Max-hating mode. But when Maria got hurt, it took all six of them to get her through-so they put Max's maddening fickleness aside for the time being. They'd managed to find a way back to being friends. Just friends. But friends.

A new song came on the radio. One of those whiny, wailing chick songs about the pain of love. Not what Max wanted to hear right now. Not when he was actually feeling decent for once. He did a fast button punch to change the station.

A drum solo pounded out. It was loud. Way too loud. Louder than it would be if he were sitting next to one of those huge amps at a concert. Max fumbled for the volume control and turned the knob to the left. But the drums got louder. He felt as if the drumsticks were slamming into his brain. Stabbing through the gray matter.

Max pulled over to the curb and stopped the car. He snapped the radio off. The drumming stopped. But there were still so many sounds. A car honked as it passed him. Max jerked his head back and gritted his teeth. The honk seemed to pierce his delicate eardrum like a needle.

Max shoved his hands against his ears. He tried to keep from screaming. The sound of his own howl of pain would be agony.

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned down, and pressed his forehead against the steering wheel. His hands weren't blocking out enough of the noise. He could still hear car wheels against the street, a bird chirping in one of the trees, two girls giggling. He could hear electricity pulsing through the power lines over his head. And the leaves of the trees brushing together. And his own blood rushing through his veins. It was too much. He couldn't take it.