by Anna Kyss
We promise, he types.
I can’t tell where it’s going, but I can see my path shifting dramatically.
Soul
I ASSUMED Maddie would be too stuck up to care about Sage’s plea. I don’t know much about designer labels, but some of the brands she has on are too famous not to notice. The outfit she chose for this train ride probably cost more than my monthly budget. I can’t imagine what she wears when she’s actually dressing up. But she totally surprised me.
Not to mention, she was completely cool during Sage’s off-the-wall talk about the improbability of coincidences. I love the guy, but I’m sure his ideas sound bizarre to strangers. Even my buddies would have ridiculed that speech, but Maddie didn’t say a word.
Being involved in the activist community, I run into a lot of people who tend to be pretty militant in their beliefs. Before this train ride, I would have described myself as completely open. I support women’s rights, gay rights, indigenous rights, and animal rights. But I don’t believe in the right to be mainstream, apparently. I’m guilty of having the dreaded holier-than-thou attitude.
Who cares if she has five-hundred-dollar hair and carries a five-hundred-dollar purse? But I can’t help cringing. That amount of money could have funded a well in Africa and saved hundreds of children. Damn, I’m doing it again. I’m making assumptions, and the saying’s completely right—I’m being a sanctimonious ass.
When I glance at her, the full force of the late-afternoon sun surrounds Maddie in a golden full-body halo. “I can’t believe you agreed,” I say.
“I would do anything for my cousin.”
“So you’re loyal to the people you love?”
“What is this? Twenty questions?” She smiles, though.
Good. She’s not annoyed. “Hey, great idea. We need to get to know one another better.”
“We do?”
“Yeah, we can’t figure out an answer for Sage without communicating. A lot.” I flip my phone open. My last text—We promise—remains on the screen. “We need to keep track of points so I can update him about our progress.”
“Points?” She shakes her head. “Don’t you think you’re taking this too seriously?”
“I always keep my promises.” I’m loyal, often to a fault. “One point for a brief answer. Five points for a more elaborate answer. Twenty points for a completely open and honest emotional purge.”
She nods, accepting the rules so far. “We should have a ten-point penalty for refusing to answer a question.”
“Ooh, I like that one.” To ensure honesty, I add, “And a one-hundred-point penalty for making up a bullshit answer.”
“If you’re caught.” She winks. “I have an app on my phone we can keep score with. Question away.”
I can’t keep my eyes off her hair. The sunlight streams through her vibrant red hair, setting it aglow with copper highlights. I’m not used to such long, silky hair. Among the girls I hang with, dreads and butch cuts are the norm.
“Soul?” She touches my arm. “Have you thought of a question yet?”
Damn mesmerizing hair. “How much did your hair cost?”
She looks completely confused. “Cost? What do you mean?”
I sigh. “Coloring, highlights, extensions. That sort of thing. What did it cost?”
“That’s your question?” She rolls her eyes.
“Answer or pay the penalty,” I order.
“I get a trim every two months.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe forty dollars?”
“Busted. One-hundred-point automatic penalty.”
“I’m not lying. You can verify my natural hair color with my cousin.” She adds one point to her score. “Your turn. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Hair that beauti…” Shoot. She’s trapped me on my first question. I either give her my embarrassing-as-hell answer or take the penalty. “Hair that beautiful can’t be real. Most people put all kinds of chemicals in their hair to get those colors.”
“I don’t,” she says quietly then looks away.
I’m in trouble. Before, I could pretend her beauty was all man-made, which made scorning her looks easier. But she’s naturally pretty, which is even hotter. I need to get to a different topic before I embarrass myself even more. “Why did you agree?”
Luckily, she knows what I’m talking about without me having to spell it out. “You said it would help Sage.”
“And?” I’m not going to settle for a one-point answer for this question.
“If Sage di… doesn’t make it”—she stares down at her lap—“Abby will be lost.”
Maddie launches into the story of the deep depression that overtook Abby after the death of her first boyfriend. As she pours out her fears for Abby, it sounds all too familiar. This girl loves her cousin deeply, but love can be scary.
I’m not so manly that I can’t admit to having a serious bromance with my buddy Sage. But when I think about his cancer and the long road he has ahead…
Love and fear make a heavy combo.
When Maddie leaves to find the bathroom, I snatch her phone. Not the nicest thing to do, but I need more information on this confusing girl. The longer I sit next to her, the more I’m convinced my initial appraisal of her was wrong. She’s more sad than stuck up—sad and something else. Maddie seems completely lost.
I find the number I want and dial.
“Madison? Are you okay?” Abby answers.
“She’s just taking a bathroom break. I thought since the two of you had a leisurely private conversation about me, I deserved some insider knowledge, too.”
“Should I be worried?” Abby asks.
“Nah, we’re just creating a game,” I explain. “For Sage. We have lots of hours to amuse ourselves before we hit Denver.”
“Oh, his synchronicity theory. Sage has been completely absorbed in the philosophy of coincidence since we returned from Australia.”
I sigh. “Trust me, I heard all about it. He couldn’t quite get over how the girl whose boyfriend died fell for someone who could also—”
Crap. Me and my big mouth. Silence hovers for several long, awkward minutes.
I finally break the quiet. “Listen, I’m sorry—”
“Sage told me about the promise you and Maddie made.” Abby’s voice quiets. “I know we just met, but I love you a little bit for that.”
“Prove it.” The train car door whooshes open. “Hurry. She’s coming.”
“She’s super competitive. Maddie hates to lose.”
“Thanks, got to go.” I hang up the phone just as Maddie returns.
“Who were you calling? On my phone.” She scrolls through her recent calls. “Abby? Why?”
“I had to verify your natural hair color.” I give her my sexy look. “I figured asking your cousin was the least intrusive method of verification.”
She punches my shoulder. “I don’t buy it. You’re totally up to something.”
“Round two.” I wait until she settles into her seat. “What do you love?”
“What, not who?” she asks.
“Exactly.”
She thinks for a long, drawn out moment. “I play piano. Really well. I’ve even won some awards.”
“You seem completely unenthused.”
“Well, my father had a rule that I needed to play an instrument.” She shrugs. “Piano seemed easier than the harp.”
“And you happened to be extremely talented?”
“With lots of practice.” She pauses then adds, “Mandatory practice.”
She’s definitely not passionate about the piano. “Let’s say our train has an old-fashioned parlor car with a baby grand. Would you be drawn to play?”
She waves a white cocktail napkin in the air. “I surrender. I only play when I absolutely have to. I hated the hours of practice when I lived at home.”
“So, what do you love?”
Maddie methodically rubs each of the fingernails on her right hand. Once she reaches her pinkie, she moves right b
ack to her thumb and repeats the process. “I played tennis.”
“Daddy’s choice?” I guess.
She nods. “I guess that doesn’t count, either.”
Just as I thought—Maddie’s completely lost. Her father has groomed her to be this shell of a woman. Her achievements might look impressive on Denver’s society page, but she can’t think of anything that sparks her passion. She has the beauty and the poise, but on the inside, her wishes, dreams, and passions have all been extinguished.
Sage might be on to something with this not-coincidence thing. I have more causes I’m passionate about than I do hours in the day. I can’t leave this beautiful girl empty and alone. I need to help Maddie rediscover herself. What does she dream about at night? What fills her with happiness? What does she want to do with her life? When I’m done, she won’t be lost Madison anymore.
Maddie
WHEN I enter the observation car, I spot only one open seat and snatch it before someone else takes it. I need space. After Soul stripped away my pretenses, I can’t even face him. I heard other passengers talking about the spectacular views and more spacious seating while I was waiting in line for the bathroom. This viewing car is the perfect refuge.
Its huge windows line the train, and curved windows even wrap over the top, forming an unbroken view of the outside. I settle into the seat facing the window, hoping to see something interesting, but we’re passing through farm country in Iowa. Endless acres of black soil spread out in every direction. Since the growing season just began, field after field lies empty.
Another reminder of how hollow I am.
People don’t typically see through my carefully cultivated façade. They accept my surface persona. I’ve been trained to look, talk, and act the part. Daddy’s high-achieving, perfect-in-every-way daughter. That’s important for someone who’s running on a platform of good old conservative family values.
“Hey, you didn’t have to run away.” Soul sits on the arm of my chair, his right leg pressing against mine.
I just sit there dumbly, trying to come up with something to say. I’ve been trained to maintain conversations in awkward situations, but my usually fail-safe techniques—a fake smile and giggle, an appreciate comment—won’t work with Soul.
Left with no tricks, I default to full-on honesty. “I couldn’t think of one thing I loved. That’s humiliating.”
“Your father didn’t give you much room to explore, did he?” Soul searches for somewhere to rest his arm. Because he’s elevated, he’s stuck with resting his arm atop my shoulder.
“No. My father’s very concerned with his public image.” I close my eyes. “He has good intentions. He wants me to be well cared for.”
Soul runs his fingers through my hair. As he strokes, I feel each pass of his fingers. “So soft,” he says quietly.
His gentle touch fires up neurons that have been missing in action for years. It’s too soon, though. I haven’t even been separated from Andrew for twenty-four hours.
I distract myself by returning to our maddening game. At least it’s my turn to ask the questions. “What do you love?”
Soul launches into a description of all the causes he cares about, protecting the environment being the most important to him. He talks for nearly a half hour about how he became interested in each one.
Two things stand out to me. Soul has so many interests that I really don’t know how he finds time for them all. Second, he cares deeply about the planet, about other people, and about a list of things too long to even spell out.
“Hey, why are you frowning?” He places his finger under my chin, gently lifting my face until our gazes connect.
“You totally know who you are,” I finally say. “I look super confident on the outside, usually, but—”
“You have no idea what drives you on the inside.” He understands perfectly. “That’s why we’re adding Phase Two: challenges.”
I wait, needing more information.
“We can give one another personal challenges. One hundred points for each completed challenge.”
“So what’s my challenge?” The sun begins to sink, flooding the viewing car with reds, oranges, and golds. It’s beautiful.
“Find out what you’re passionate about.” Soul tugs me out of my chair and positions me in front of the window. “I can’t get over how your hair is the same colors as the sunset.”
“You think my passions will just come to me in the next twelve hours?” If I’ve been forced to extinguish my dreams for the last twenty years, they aren’t going to surge back in a single night.
Soul smiles. “We haven’t figured out Sage’s answer yet. Good thing we both go to school in Boulder. I think we’re going to have to continue these challenges after we depart.”
No seems the safest answer. I could refuse. I could just leave this train and walk away from Soul. But I don’t want to. I can’t remember the last time someone took so much interest in me.
I hate how Soul leaves me open and vulnerable, but I can’t help wanting to get to know him better.
“To be fair, I need to give you a challenge.” I meet his gaze. I’ve thought of the perfect tortuous activity to completely stretch his limits.
“Bring it on,” he says.
The poor guy has no idea what I have planned for him.
Soul
A WEEK after we arrive in Boulder, the time comes for my challenge. I have to hand it to Maddie. She really thought up a doozy for me: attend her sorority’s welcome back party, without making a single snarky comment. She could barely stifle her grin as she challenged me. In that moment, I caught a true glimpse of her inner spunk.
All day long, I flip-flop on my decision to attend the party. I could just skip it. I’ve never been interested in Greek life. I don’t get it—at all. People put so much time and energy into their fraternities and sororities, when a million real-life issues need attention.
But as soon as I remember Maddie’s playful smile, I decide to go. I want to see more of that side of her. Hell, if I’m honest, I want to cultivate mischief and spirit to replace the thousand rules that bind her.
She has infiltrated my thoughts and even my dreams again and again. Why can’t I stop picturing the girl with the sunset hair? Maybe it’s because she’s so lost. I’m drawn to the underdogs: dying forests, abused animals, and marginalized minorities. They all make me want to get out and change the world.
I’ve finally found a girl who captures my interest. More than anything, I want to help her find herself and free her from her authoritarian binds. I’m going to her party. I’ll bite my tongue, act sociable, and play nice.
Then I can issue my own challenge, and I know exactly where I want to take her.
A few hours later, I stand in front of the sprawling sorority house, where a pink banner hangs across the balcony. “Spring Fling” is followed by a series of Greek letters that are complete gibberish to me.
When I walk up the stairs, a blond girl stops me at the door. She stares at my piercings, my messy hair, and my torn jeans. “You’re not an Alpha Sig.”
I hold back a rude retort then smile. “Maddie invited me to come by tonight.”
“We don’t have any Maddie’s in our chapter.” The girl glares at me, hands on her hips.
“Sorry. Madison. Madison Bentley.”
“Madison invited you to the Spring Fling?” She shakes her head. “She has a really well-to-do boyfriend. Good luck crashing the next party.”
I’m completely unprepared for this unexpected entrance exam at the party, and I glance back at the steps leading down from the house. Leaving would be the easiest escape. But Maddie would think I blew off her challenge.
For once, I’m not even thinking of Sage. I have been waiting seven days for this excuse to see her. A month ago, I would have sworn I could never be excited about a frat party. I guess that shows it’s too hard to anticipate what life will throw my way.
I open my phone and dial her number. When she answer
s, I can barely hear her over the loud music in the background. “Soul? Are you backing out on me? I knew it.” She sounds sad.
“No, your bouncer won’t let me in.” I stare at the blonde.
“You’re here?”
“On the front steps, awaiting your arrival.”
Maddie opens the door two minutes later. She grabs my hand and pulls me into the party. I resist the urge to make a face at the tiny blonde, just in case rude faces are considered “snarky comments.”
Bodies fill the rooms as far as I can see. Three hundred people must be stuffed into this house. A few couches line the walls of the living room, but layers of bodies cover every surface of them. Yes, layers. Girls are sitting on guys’ laps, and even other girls’ laps. One girl rests on the arm of the sofa, with her legs draped over the two people sitting nearest her.
“I didn’t know if you’d be brave enough,” she yells over the pounding music. Compounded by the hundreds of conversations, the noise is deafening.
I place my mouth to her ear. “You’re questioning my courage?”
She grins. We mingle for a few minutes, but the music’s so loud that having a conversation is impossible. The whole atmosphere is completely different from my favorite place, which is bathed in solitude. I can’t wait to take Maddie there tomorrow. I hope she agrees.
Maddie’s sorority sisters mention me only in relation to Andrew. Every few minutes, someone approaches and asks similar questions.
“Madison, where is Andrew tonight?” A tall brunette raises one eyebrow as she stares at me.
Be good. I tamp the urge to wiggle my eyebrow piercing at her.
“How could you break up with him?” someone else asks. “He had so much money. You would’ve been set for life.”
Maddie obviously hasn’t filled them in on what happened in Chicago. I think I might be the only one outside of her family who knows. I was a complete stranger on that train, but she felt more comfortable talking to me than to her “friends.” She’s not just sad and lost. She’s all alone.