The bond between Maddie and Zavier had been tight. Watching their sweet daughter struggle with Zavier’s sacrifice and death had left Maddie’s parents heartsick.
The attack had also left Derek weak and frail. To cope, he had thrown himself into physical therapy. Once he recovered, he took over where Zavier had left off and joined in all the nutty activities he and Tina had been happy to leave Zavier to do with Maddie. Six years later, Derek was more than big. He was cut and hard. Tina missed her teddy bear, but the lion standing before her now was a sight to behold.
Derek caught his wife’s stare and gave her a lopsided grin. “You see something you need?”
“Pfft,” she snorted. “You wish, mudrat boy.”
Maddie sat silently in the backseat as her father regaled her mom with stories of the obstacle race. Derek had grown well versed in describing in vivid detail their father/daughter exploits. Tina often teased him that he could make a living doing voiceover work for audio books. Today, she made a few “oohs” and “aahs” in the appropriate places, but Maddie could feel the hollowness in them. Tina allowed Maddie her fun but did not “rah-rah” over it.
After Maddie thought about her mother’s lack of enthusiasm for her feats, a streak of guilt followed. The thought was not true, not quite. Her mother loved her. Maddie knew she was proud of the accomplishments she had achieved in the many activities she had placed her in over the years—gymnastics, softball, Girl Scouts, even camping. Her mother loved these things, the normal activities of modern-day youth. But Maddie liked pointy things and things that went “boom.”
Tina had left those things to Uncle Z. He had shown Maddie how to shoot, fish, hunt, and cut. After Orlando, while Derek had continued the tradition that Zavier had started, Tina, however, had retreated from her former approval of anything having to do with guns, knives, and other weapons. But she did not demand that Derek cease engaging in those activities with Maddie. She held her disapproval at bay only because she liked the closeness the activities created between Maddie and her father. Maddie knew her parents argued over it sometimes, but she did not care. Maddie loved bullets, guns, and knives. Besides, she had a goal—one she would not relinquish regardless of how her mother felt.
“Wow. Three targets, four shots. That’s pretty darn good,” said her mother.
Maddie shrugged. “Should have been three.”
“Two hundred and fifty yards is quite the distance for a .22.”
“If I hit the second shot, I should have hit it the first time.” Maddie could sense her mother was holding out an olive branch for the earlier spat, but she was still irritated. She decided to confront it head-on like she did everything else. “Please tell me you didn’t buy any dresses or skirts,” Maddie blurted.
Olive branch or not, her mom’s sudden sharp intake of breath signaled that she was not over the argument either. “Every girl needs dresses and skirts. But no, I did not. I got you jeans and some blouses.”
“You mean shirts?”
“No, I mean blouses. You can’t be a tomboy all your life.”
Maddie snorted. “I’m fourteen, Mom, not thirty.”
“And many of our life’s habits are formed in our high school years. So, it’s time for you to leave the ratty camo shirts and pajama pants behind. If you want your story to hold, you need to look the part.”
“No one cares, Mom.”
“Excuse me, young lady!”
“Tone, Madelynne,” said her dad.
Maddie paused before responding. “I apologize, Mother,” she started, opting for the formal route. “But it’s true. It’s been six years and an untold number of terror attacks since. No one cares about it.”
“The press always cares—and never forgets,” said Tina with an edge to her bitterness.
Maddie tried another tack. “Then it really is better for me to remain homeschooled.”
Tina looked at her in the rearview mirror. Maddie could not see the curve of her mom’s mouth, but the crinkled eyes told her she was giving her patented derisive smirk. “Nice try, bucko, but I’ll humor you. How do you figure that conclusion?”
Maddie shrugged and turned to look out the window. “You want me in regular school activities. If reporters care so much, we’ll be found out as soon as I start getting notoriety at school.”
“A little cocky there aren’t you, sweet pea?” said her father.
Maddie sent her dad a laser-guided stare. “I’m good at whatever I decide to do. And I won’t slide into mediocrity just to keep a secret. I’m not that eight-year-old who needs to be protected. Not anymore. Not ever again.”
Her mother began to respond but stopped when she saw police cars ahead. “What’s going on?”
Maddie leaned forward to get a better look. On either side of the road idled several police cars and police walking along the edge of the woods with dogs. Unconsciously, Tina’s foot came off the gas pedal as she looked from the dogs to a large white van with blue lettering on it.
“Mom . . . some of those dogs are cadaver dogs. See, the ones with the vests that say ‘HDR’ on them. They must be looking for a body.”
“Madelynne!” said her mom, aghast at the comment.
Unperturbed by her mother’s discomfort, Maddie continued, “It might be just a precaution. Maybe someone’s just lost in the woods? Did you see them on the way to pick us up?”
Tina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “No, I came in from another direction. It’s a little close to the race.” She slowed the car as they approached the knot of activity, expecting to be stopped. The officer in the middle of the road, however, waved them through.
Maddie sat back. “If they’re letting us through, it’s no big deal, whatever it is. Besides, they would have told us something at the race.”
Tina sped up the car as soon as she felt sure no cops would hop into a cruiser and race after them. A full five minutes elapsed before she spoke again.
“When you get to school on Monday, remember you’re Madison Jennings now, just back to the States from traveling the world with your hippie parents. I know you hate it, but it’s for your own good—your family’s own good.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know the Collins family CIA tactics by heart now. Like I said, no one cares, and I don’t see why I can’t keep getting homeschooled.”
“It’s what I and your father have decided, so that’s what you will do. And you’re going to a public high school because it’s better for college scholarships than homeschooling.”
Maddie snorted. “Tell them who I am, and every college in America will offer me a scholarship.”
Chapter Eighteen
The alarm did not reach a second shrieking beep before Maddie’s hand shot from under her blanket to strike it. The soccer-ball-shaped clock bounced across the room, hit the wall, and shut off. Maddie turned her attention back to the speck of dust on her ceiling she had been studying for the last hour. Sleep had come in fits and starts throughout the night as her subconscious prepared for the start of a new page in her life.
Today was D-day. Maddie had lived across the globe in the last six years—Australia, South Africa, South America, even nine months in Nanhe Town in China. The memory of the picturesque town brought a fleeting smile. She had been an outsider in each place her parents had traveled to work and live, but in all that time, she had been homeschooled. Despite the language barriers, friends had been easy to make. Today should be no different, easy even, considering she was in the States. But the thought of her first day of high school filled her with dread.
Maddie closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She tried to force the tension out with each exhale. She had been trying to calm down since she woke up, but with the same dismal results. As soon as her mind calmed, her nervous energy brought her anxiety back.
She gave up, slid off the bed, and moved to the floor to start her morning push-up ritual. She did three types: military, Muay Thai, and hand claps. The beginning burn of physical exertion soon hit her shoulders and arms, bu
t she powered through until she was sweaty and tired.
Rest consisted of going to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Three minutes later, she was back in her room and got back down on the floor. She did fifty sit-ups, then turned over to move into a plank. She held the position for one hundred and twenty seconds. Done with the abdominal exercise worshipped by fitness heads and cursed by out-of-shape slugs, Maddie rested on her back for a full minute. She took deep breaths to recover. Satisfied, she stood and headed for the bathroom, her mind jumbled with thoughts of the coming day.
Tina slipped into Maddie’s room a few minutes after Maddie went to shower. She was not sneaking into the room, it just felt like quiet movement was the proper order of the day. Reflection on her daughter’s next stage of life—one guaranteed through the sacrifice of another—weighed on her.
Her baby was no baby any longer—had not been for a long time. Her childhood had been stolen, and her physical age was beginning to catch up to a soul altered by fire and grief. A familiar, reoccurring ache spread through Tina, causing her to cover her mouth.
Tina sat on the bed, scanning the room from left to right. She pondered its knickknacks and detritus. Pictures dominated here: snapshots of holidays; Maddie and sister Nora hugging when they’d dropped Nora off at college; Maddie running through tall grass with village kids during a missionary trip; more than a few photos of father and daughter posing with harvested animals after a hunt; Maddie with her beloved kung fu teacher in China, Sifu Chung.
Three modest bookcases overflowing with books stood against one wall along with a smaller one by the bed. The Twilights, Divergents, and other teen-themed novels were absent. Novelists like Brad Thor, Jonathan Maberry, Jeremy Robinson, and Lee Child dominated here, along with true-life military books, strategy tomes, fitness guides, and, of course, the texts Maddie had commandeered from Zavier’s home years before.
The top of her bookcases held her martial arts and youth competitive shooting trophies. The ones from her gymnastics, soccer, and softball exploits were collecting dust in the attic.
The thought brought Tina’s eyes to Maddie’s desk, completing an often-repeated cycle for her over the years. Maddie insisted it was not a shrine. “I just keep all of Uncle Z’s pictures there,” she had said more than once. The smaller bookcase, which sat at the foot of Maddie’s bed, and the desk held the current books she was reading and all the photo albums of Maddie and Zavier. He was never far from Maddie’s mind.
Tina hated that.
She yearned to see a saucy, poorly hidden romance novel in the room. She pined for pictures of boy-band heartthrobs torn from teeny-bopper magazines tacked around like wallpaper. She wanted normalcy for her daughter, not the concerns and issues of adults.
“Please tell me you’re not in here about to pick out my clothes.”
Tina turned to her daughter and brought one hand to her chin in consideration. “I probably should. You never dress properly unless you’re going into the bush.”
Maddie rolled her eyes and stepped over to her dresser. “The ‘bush’ is in Africa, Mom. This is Colorado. We have woods.” She grabbed deodorant, slapped it under each arm, then grabbed a pair of plain white boxer underwear, which she slipped on under her towel.
Now it was Tina’s turn to roll her eyes. “God, girl, when you get to physical ed, everyone’s gonna think you’re a lesbian or something.”
Maddie held up her hands in protest and wrinkled her nose. “Different strokes for different folks, but that’s gross. I like these because I feel free, like wearing no undies, which if I did, would also be gross.”
Maddie walked over to her bed and plopped down next to her mother like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. “And making me go to a regular school is unnecessary. Why can’t you just keep homeschooling me?”
“Honey, we’ve been over this. We think—”
“You mean Dr. Croft thinks,” Maddie interrupted.
Tina contemplated Maddie’s accusing stare. She sighed, then put her index finger under Maddie’s lip and gave it a delicate push. “Stop pouting. You’re fourteen, not four. Your father and I decided it was time for you to be around other kids your age. Dr. Croft just agreed.”
Maddie folded her arms in a huff. “Fine. But if I flunk out because I get pregnant and strung out in love over a stupid boy, it’s your fault.”
“You’re such a drama queen.” Tina paused, then against her better judgment she decided to plow ahead. “You need to experience your high school years in an actual high school and away from all of this.” She punctuated her sentence with a sweeping flourish of her hand around the room.
Maddie’s eyes flared with a sharp intake of breath. “All of this is fun. I like all of this. I liked it with Uncle Z, and I like it with Dad. Going to high school isn’t going to change that.”
The argument was familiar, like a T-shirt full of holes that you refused to throw out because it fit better than new ones. The lie was also familiar. She hunted, shot, exercised, and took interest in all things martial because it was fun. She did it because she was just a tomboy—her father’s son stuck in a girl’s body. That was the story she told. At one point, it had been true. But that had changed long ago. Now the truth would either anger or scare her mother too much.
Maddie walked over to her closet. “I have to get dressed, or I’ll be late.”
The awkward silence that followed signaled a pause, more than an end, to an argument both suspected would continue for some time. Maddie knew her mom wanted her to have a normal life. Her parents had, in fact, made a lot of sacrifices to try to ensure she had just that. She, however, wanted to make sure the normal life denied to her was not denied to others like her.
Maddie heard her mother rise from the bed and the snaps of the flip-flops she was wearing as she headed for the door.
“So . . . what is the most lesbian-looking outfit I can wear today? Something real butch,” said Maddie.
She glanced over her shoulder. Her mom’s face was aghast. With a huff, Tina left the room. Maddie snickered.
Few things were more enjoyable to a teen than making their parents uncomfortable. Maddie had a feeling high school would give her ample opportunities to torture her mother in many ways. She took a step into the closet but froze when a loud beep pinged from her laptop computer. Her eyes shifted to her door, then she hurried to close it and lock it as well. The computer pinged again, but she held firm by the door. She needed to make sure her mother did not come back. Satisfied, she moved over to her laptop.
In a fit of paranoia, her mother had disabled the computer’s Internet access. Web surfing was an activity conducted in the same room as her mother, or not at all. There was no Facebook, Snapchat, Vine, or even email. She corresponded with all her overseas friends the old-fashion way: pen, paper, and a stamp.
Her mother would have been shocked and outraged to see a little black box pop up on Maddie’s screen with a message in green text.
Hey, Nerd. You ready to enter the jungle?
Maddie smiled and tapped out a quick response. Ready to enter and slay all matter of beasts, Fanboy.
Sounds like fun. Not the best way to keep a low profile though. Don’t worry. I got your back if you slip up.
Trust me. No one cares.
Trust me. That is not true. Your mom is right. The good, the bad, and the worst still remember. But I got you. So don’t worry about it . . . too much. And remember, high school is like a reality TV show, just without the cameras, money, and um, sex.
The box blinked out of existence. If her mom did one of her weekly investigations, she would not find a trace of it. The parting words were meant to be a joke, a way to take the weight off the sentence before it: they “still remember.” A chill fluttered up and down Maddie’s spine. It lasted a full two seconds before she destroyed it with a jolt of anger.
“Let them remember! I also remember. And I’m not eight anymore.”
Chapter Nineteen
Maddie looked through
the window of her mom’s Volkswagen Jetta in horror. Outside, the denizens of Galvin High School moved in packs, each dressed to resemble the other in theme if not exact clothing. There were jocks, blonde beasts, desperate outsiders united in their disdain for the masses, show tune wannabes, and the list went on. It was a zoo of the modern teenager in America; but the students were aliens to the state in which they resided.
Colorado was the mountain state, the home of forests, mountains, and streams. It was a state for hunting, hiking, spelunking, fishing, and whitewater rafting. Measured in participation, they were bigger sports than football. They were a way of life in the state, but not in Maddie’s town and not at this high school.
Galvin was an enclave from the common folk of Colorado, filled with the transplants of West Coast states like California and Oregon, all fleeing high taxes. The town was more suitable for the Napa Valley set than the camo-wearing residents in most areas of the state. Maddie had not yet stepped a foot into the school, but the mannerisms and clothes of the kids she saw were suitable only for characters out of an episode of Gossip Girl or Pretty Little Liars. The mountain-man state had been invaded by the Fashion Network.
Maddie looked down at the Realtree camo shirt she was wearing and grimaced.
“Look at the bright side,” said her mother. “At least it’s in pink camo.” Maddie’s sour look made her mother change tack. “I know for certain you don’t care what people think about your clothes.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But I do care about the type of people who dress like they are in LA, not Colorado. Just kill me now, and save me the torture of the next four years.”
Her mother wrinkled her lips, then pointed to a group of teenagers singing and twirling in the parking lot. “There you go. There’s your new group of friends, drama queen.”
Maddie rolled her eyes and reached for the door. A hand on her arm stalled her.
“Maddie, you’ll do fine. But, remember—”
The Madison Jennings Series Box Set Page 11