by Danika Stone
The parkland that ran behind the residential neighborhood included a small lake. The body of water’s official name was Diamond Mill Pond, though Madi and Sarah simply called it “the lake.” When they’d been children, it had been a favorite spot to play.
“Has she shown up anywhere else?” Madi asked.
“No, but—”
“Then let me go. I need to check one more place.”
He seemed poised to argue when Madi’s father appeared, elbowing his way through a group of volunteers to reach her side.
“Madi, you’re here.” He pulled her into a hug. “Thank God.” His hands were shaking, his face gray. “Sorry I missed your call.”
“I came as soon as I could, Dad.”
“Thank you. And again—sorry for wrecking your night.”
“It’s fine. I was coming home anyhow. This is more important.”
Her father nodded and turned to the officer. “May we talk a moment? I had a few thoughts about the search.”
“Of course, Mr. Nakama. What can I do for you?”
With the officer diverted, Madi darted around the cordoned-off section of trail and past the houses that overlooked Diamond Mill Pond. In minutes, she reached the paved path. The three-story, Federal-style Colonial Inn glittered behind her, lights dancing like fireflies behind mullioned windows. At the edge of the trees, ruins rose like spectral fingers, clawing their way from the ground where she and Sarah had played as children.
Madi tiptoed through the dark, her eyes in the shadows. “Sarah,” she hissed. “Sarah, you there?”
As she neared the ruins, the shapes shifted into the remains of a long-destroyed building. The rough-hewn stone foundation predated most houses in Millburn, the roofless structure a ghostly reminder of another era. Though it was now a trendy spot for wedding photographs, the darkness made it malevolent.
“Sarah?”
The sound of the lake seemed to fade and Madi turned the other direction. She’d heard something, but what? Maybe it was the other searchers. She looked back. A shadow that hadn’t been there moments earlier had appeared in the corner of the destroyed building. Madi waited, heart pounding.
“Sarah? Is that you?”
A sniffle answered her.
Madi released her breath and walked slowly forward. “What’re you doing out here so late?”
The shadow took two steps sideways. Madi stopped. (Spook Sarah, and she’d never stop running.)
“You scared me tonight,” Madi said.
Another sniffle.
“I’m glad I found you. Why’re you out here, Sarah?”
The wind rose off the lake, almost obscuring her sister’s words. “I thought you’d left, too.”
Madi’s chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe. She took a single step. Sarah hadn’t moved, but she could sense her wanting to.
“I didn’t leave. I went to a movie with my friends. I told you that, remember?”
“No.”
Madi took another tentative step. Now she could see Sarah’s features. Her sister had been crying. Silver tracks lined her cheeks.
“Before I left, I told you I was going into New York. I went to see Blade Runner and—”
“Mom’s leaving again!” Sarah shouted. The anger in the words bounced around the broken stone structure.
“I heard that.” Madi waited, let the words sink in. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t wanna talk! Mom’s leaving, Madi. She’s leaving!”
Madi inched closer. “Sarah, I think we should go home so we can talk.”
“But she’s leaving us; she’s leaving! SHE’S LEAVING!” Her screams rose into a howl of fury.
Sarah turned to run, but Madi tackled her and the two of them tumbled onto the manicured lawn.
“Mom’s LEAVING! She’s going AWAY and she’s not coming BACK!”
Madi’s ears crackled, but she pulled her sister tight, holding Sarah’s arms down and rocking her. Deep pressure was one of the ways Sarah coped with overstimulation, but the weighted blanket she used was at home.
“Shh…” Madi whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
For a few seconds Sarah struggled against her. Madi could hear other people coming through the trees, could see a flashlight beam bobbing in the bushes up the shore. Somewhere, Madi could hear her father shouting Sarah’s name.
“Shh … Breathe, Sarah. Everything’s going to be all right.”
“No! It’s NOT!”
With a final lunge, Sarah’s body went limp, the fight disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. Sarah pressed her face to Madi’s neck. “Sh-she’s leaving us,” she choked. “She’s leaving us b-behind just like she did last time.”
Madi patted her back, wishing there was something she could say—some way she could deny it—but it was too late. Both of them knew the truth.
“Yeah, she is,” Madi said. “But I’m still here.”
6
“You want out of here so bad, you probably memorize bus schedules.”
(Footloose, 1984)
Dear Madi, Just arrived at Oxford. Thought I’d check in with everyone. What a trip! The plane was packed so tight it felt like we were canned. I haven’t heard from your dad yet. How are things on the home front? From: Mom
fine
Fine, as in they’re good at home? Or fine as in you don’t want to talk about it with me? Mom
both—u should just talk to dad
I will, but I want to hear from you, too. Is everything all right at home? As an aside: Have any papers arrived from my research assistant? She’s not answering my texts and I need the next grant proposal in before the deadline. Mom
a: i’m not watching the mail for u
b: i’ve been a little OCCUPIED
Occupied with what? Mom
what do u think? u left. AGAIN. god, mom. do u even care about us?
Madi, please stop being melodramatic. It’s exhausting. Of course I care. I’m your mother. Mom
funny, u would expect a mother to be at home with her kids
Honestly, Madi, it’s not like you and Sarah are little children. I think a bit of independence will be good for both of you. Besides, I’ve put my career plans on hold for years. I have to do this while there’s time. Mom
…
And I might not have said it in so many words, but I am grateful you are helping out with Sarah. Mom
well I didn’t really have a choice about it, did i?
You sound angry, Madi. Mom
it’s been a long night. also, you don’t have to sign “mom” to each text. i know it’s u. ur number shows up on the screen
Why? What happened?
sarah took off JUST LIKE LAST TIME. what did u expect would happen?!
Damnit! I didn’t realize.
…
And sorry about writing “Mom” on everything. I’m not used to this technology yet. I prefer the phone, to be honest, but no one was answering when I called. I suppose everyone was out looking for Sarah.
…
Also, I know you’re angry, but I do think you’ll understand when you’re older. Sometimes people have to make difficult choices. Sarah will cope. She did before.
…
Madi? Are you still around?
…
Good night, Madi. I’ll try to arrange a video chat with you later so we can talk in person. Say good night to Sarah for me. I know it’s hard, but things will settle down. They will.
…
I love you both. Mom
…
Madi closed her mother’s texts and took a slow breath. Freaking out wasn’t going to change anything. (Not with her mother on a different continent.) She thumbed her phone’s apps sideways until she found her dashboard, popped it open, and scanned through the latest blogs, reblogs, and comments. The relief she felt as she scanned through the posts was tangible. If she was on the Internet, her mother’s disappearance from their lives felt like a distant issue
that didn’t need to be dealt with. (At least not as long as she stayed online.) Everything she wanted to see and everyone she wanted to talk to was here. There was plenty to read, comment on, and do. It was easy.
She ran her thumb up the screen, skimming posts until one caught her eyes. She smirked. MadLibbers were always creating posts for whatever rewatch she was doing.
“If only it did have an opt-out button. I’d be the first one to sign up.”
Real life didn’t have that option, but it did have fandom, and that was as close as she was going to get. Hitting REBLOG, she closed her dashboard and popped open the last fanfic bookmark she’d saved: JoesWoes’s long-fic “Shadow Soul.” Tonight she found herself imagining Laurent in Spartan’s role.
Content, Madi read until dawn.
* * *
By Saturday evening, the Nakama household had returned to its usual precarious balance. Madi and Sarah played video games. Their father sat in the kitchen, writing his newest “Down Home” for the Herald. Only one person was conspicuously absent. Mom. No one mentioned her, and she didn’t call. By the time Sarah headed up to bed, Madi knew the worst was over. Her father caught her eyes as Madi came into the kitchen.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine, but it’s appreciated. I don’t … I don’t think I could do this alone.”
The sound of his voice was oddly empty. Madi nodded, unable to answer, and headed up to her room to work on a blog post. She wanted—needed!—something other than the drama going on at home to think about. Fandom was one outlet, writing another.
By the time the quotes for the MadLibs post had been selected and the rough draft written, she was smiling again. Madi plugged in her laptop and crawled into bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep. She dreamed of Laurent instead.
Sunday, everyone spent the morning following Sarah’s schedule like clockwork, giving her the structure the psychologist insisted was key to her success. Charles made pancakes. Madi fried bacon. Sarah set the table. Most weekends their mother taught at Princeton, or went in to do grading, generally leaving before anyone else in the house woke, so it didn’t feel like things had significantly changed. By the time Sarah and Madi finished eating, Sarah was humming to herself, a sure sign that she was feeling settled again. Madi felt her shoulders release. They’d gotten through the first two days relatively unscathed.
“Only six weeks to go,” Madi muttered as she headed up to her room to edit her latest MadLib.
Blog Post 209, Sunday 1:02 p.m.:
The decision is MADE!
After a LONG process of elimination and an unexpected SURGE of popularity on the ’80s movies choice (due to @laurentabelard’s tireless campaigning this weekend;), the new MadLib topic has been selected. For the next six weeks I’ll be rewatching/liveblogging a variety of scintillating 1980s gems of the big screen. Our first MadLib of Sixteen Candles will go tonight at 7:00 p.m. EST. It will kick off with a group-focused liveblog—so please join in!—after which I’ll be writing up a MadLib summary post. Check in for that tomorrow.
Thanks for the support, and as always, clickety-click on those links. (I need pizza money.;)
*exit stage left*
MadLib
* * *
Comments enabled.
Tags: #MadLibs #80s Movies #Madi watches things and then blogs about them #Still a little sad I don’t get to watch Buffy #Funemployment
With a smile, Madi hit POST. It was done, and now she could really let the excitement build. It was a new beginning, a new rewatch, a new—
“Madi…? Madi?! MADI! Where are you?” Sarah’s voice rose, panicked, from the main floor. “Dad! Where did she GO?! Where’s Madi?!”
Madi cringed and pushed her laptop aside.
“Up here, Sarah. Just a sec.”
* * *
By the time dinner had been cooked and served, and Madi found time to get back online, her blog post had nearly twenty-five thousand hits. An hour later, after dishes had been loaded into the washer, it had climbed to over forty thousand. She grinned as she scrolled through the discussion going on online. MadLibbers across the globe were excited for the newest MadLib to begin!
Her smile dimmed as she reached @StarveilBrian1981’s tweets. In the last hours, Brian had taken it upon himself to champion the lost cause of science fiction. Irritation prickled under Madi’s skin.
@StarveilBrian1981: I have to say I’m a little disappointed you didn’t select Star Wars, @MadLib. IMO the election was rigged.
Madi bit her lip as she composed her reply. It had grown increasingly difficult to keep all her fans happy. A year and a half ago, she’d had a group of twenty thousand steady followers, but in the last year her fan base had exploded. Legions of MadLibbers—from all parts of the world—waited on her every post, their numbers increasing exponentially. They bought merchandise from her store. Money made its way from their pockets to hers. The site even had a “special features” section of exclusive content available for download after payment. Madi was no teen blogger hobbyist. She was a successful entrepreneur!
Madi was grateful for it … most of the time.
@MadLib: @StarveilBrian1981 It wasn’t an election, Brian, it was a vote. But thanks for your concern. And there’s always the next time for Star Wars. #UseTheForceLuke
Madi posted her reply. She groaned as another tweet from Brian appeared almost instantly. How fast can he type?!
@StarveilBrian1981: @MadLib Nonetheless, I think you should check the IP addresses for the people who voted in the last 24 hours. There’s no way that should have changed that much.
@MadLib: @StarveilBrian1981 It was pretty close all the way through, but there was a lot of campaigning for the ’80s movies in the last 24 hours. I watched the tally come in. #TrustMe
@StarveilBrian1981: @MadLib I wish I had your certainty.
@MadLib: @StarveilBrian1981 Yeah. Me, too. :>/ Moving on …
@MadLib: All right, #MadLibbers across the internet, are you ready to LIVEBLOG #SixteenCandles?
@laurentabelard: @MadLib Absolument! I mean—absolutely—YES! A thousand times, YES!
@ArtWithAttitude: @MadLib Signing in for blog duty! Woot! Let’s get this party started!
@fandometric: @MadLib Netflix is open to #SixteenCandles and my computer’s humming. Let’s start! #MadLibbers #Rewatch #TheJourneyBegins
@MadLib: All right, #MadLibbers, hitting play NOW! *archaic Universal logo appears* *a hush falls over the room*
@laurentabelard: @MadLib EEEEEEeeeee!!! SO EXCITED SO EXCITED!
@MadLib: @laurentabelard You see? It’s because of THAT kind of gratuitous use of all caps that I expected a Lauren (f) … rather than a Laurent (m). LOL
@laurentabelard: @MadLib I trust you aren’t disappointed with me.;)
@MadLib: @laurentabelard Not in the least. *flutters lashes* You are perfect, especially in person. :D
@ModernDayWitch: @MadLib @laurentabelard Hmmm … Sounds like I missed more than just Blade Runner last weekend. LOL Anyone feel like giving me details? ;)
@fandometric: @MadLib Are we watching this film or what?
For a split second, Madi considered tweeting a snarky reply to fandometric. What was his problem, anyhow?! She posted a neutral tweet instead.
@MadLib: All right—back to the liveblog.
@fandometric: @MadLib YES!
@MadLib: We start with a pristine snapshot of suburbia. Sprawling houses, lush lawns. Then BAM! An alarm goes off! Who wakes their kids like that?!?
@ArtWithAttitude: @MadLib My dad used to. (Mind you that was the only way I’d get up in high school.)
@ModernDayWitch: @ArtWithAttitude Sweetie, why does that NOT surprise me? ;P
@MadLib: First thoughts: WAY too much household stress. Kids fighting, parents yelling. I’d be hiding in my room like poor Samantha.
@laurentabelard: @MadLib Me too. :(
@MadLib: Samantha’
s getting lots of internal monologue/camera time which makes me think our main is … the indomitable MOLLY RINGWALD!
@fandometric: @MadLib Miss Molly is the QUEEN of ’80s pop culture. #SixteenCandles
@ArtWithAttitude: @fandometric PREACH.
@MadLib: Poor Samantha’s dealing with body issues (clearly a universal problem!) and a family that has … *gasp* forgotten her birthday.
@ArtWithAttitude: @MadLib I can’t believe that’s the premise of the film. Ha ha!
@MadLib: Side note: WHAT SCHOOL LOOKS LIKE THAT? It’s like some Utopian version of 1980s America. O_o #MadLib #SixteenCandles
@laurentabelard: @MadLib See? THIS is why I wanted to come to America!
@MadLib: Whoa! Did they actually use TEENS to play the teenagers in this movie? That’s surprising. Two points for realism!
@MadLib: Holy hairspray, Batman! Did you SEE that kid’s hair?!? CRAZY!!! LOL Defying gravity FTW! #ByThePowerOfHairspray
@MadLib: Aaaawwww!! Look at all these ADORABLE 1980s styles. LOLOL I can’t believe my mother probably wore those.
@ArtWithAttitude: @MadLib Yuck! Can you imagine? LOL
@MadLib: Two points for catchy music during boring credits. It’s all synth and electric guitar. Does ANY sad music exist from the ’80s?
@fandometric: @MadLib Nope. The ’90s absorbed it all. #ItsFunnyBecauseItsTrue
@MadLib: @fandometric EXACTLY!:D Now back to #SixteenCandles. Her parents have missed her birthday. Woe is me! Let the #RomCom antics begin …
* * *
“I didn’t like it,” Sarah announced.
“You didn’t?” Madi peeked up from her phone to discover her sister glaring at the Netflix “Top Picks for Madi” page. “Why not?”
“It wasn’t real. The plot was all wrong.”
Madi bit back a smile. For someone who had difficulty with social interactions, Sarah was unexpectedly astute at finding issues with logical progression. It was one of the many reasons Madi loved doing the rewatches with her.
“What was wrong with it?”
“There was too much left to chance. The dropped note, the people talking behind one another’s backs, the friends showing up at the last second.” Her gaze flicked over to Madi. “Life doesn’t work that way.”