The Madison Jennings Series Box Set

by Kiara Ashanti

  The two teachers who broke up the fight occupied the opposite side of the office. They did not need to be here. Both had told what little they knew to the principal already. They were here to keep Aden from doing anything stupid. He had taken a wild swipe at Maddie when she walked past him to go into the nurse’s office. The smug smile plastered on her face when she saw his bandaged nose and blackening eye had not sat well with him.

  Maddie sat in front of the desk, her mother beside her. The icy silence emanating from Tina did not comfort Maddie.

  “The details of the assault are unimportant, Principal Devin. I want to know what you plan to do with this little hooligan that attacked my son.”

  “Mrs. Maier, school—” began Principal Devin.

  “Hooligan? I do believe it was your son who assaulted my daughter, a little girl, and threw her against a locker!” said Derek, cutting the principal off. “You’re lucky I don’t throw him out that back window. I still might, and these two rent-a-cops can’t stop me.”

  The frown Maddie started to form at the words “little girl” froze. Her mother had moved her hand to Maddie’s leg and dug her nails in it. The message was clear: Sit still. Remain silent.

  “I see the adage about apples not falling far from their trees is still true,” said Mrs. Maier, her face never leaving the principal’s. She turned to Maddie’s father, eyes dripping with cold anger. “Whatever he did to your child is justified considering she attacked him first.”

  “Yeah, after your precious son started bullying some other kid. Probably was not the first time either,” spat Maddie. She had broken the “do not speak” rule. She was sure there would be blood marks on her leg from her mother’s nails.

  The look Mrs. Maier shot Maddie came straight from the Arctic. “Speak when spoken to. Otherwise remain silent, child.”

  “Speak to my daughter in that tone again, and I’ll make sure silence is all we hear from you the rest of your living days.”

  The words were flat, full of steel.

  Mrs. Maier turned to Tina Jennings. Each held the other’s gaze. Metal versus ice. There was no sizing each other up the way men did. This was simpler: a declaration, an understanding that either would defend their children. Right and wrong be damned.

  Aden’s mother broke the gaze first, moving her frosty eyes back toward Principal Devin in a declaration that she did so out of choice.

  “Kids joke around all the time. I’m sure it was in good fun.”

  “Madison Jennings, remain silent,” said Tina, cutting her daughter off before she could form her predictable response.

  Principal Devin slipped his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Eyes closed tight, he shook his head. Maddie imagined whispers of Calgon take me away on repeat, swirling in his mind. The image of the small and hairy man sitting in a bubble bath made Maddie snicker. It was too loud, and Maddie felt all eyes in the room turn on her. It seemed to galvanize Principal Devin out of his clenched head thinking.

  “You may find Mrs. Maier’s words humorous, Madison—”

  “Maddie,” she said, correcting him.

  “No, it’s Madison,” he countered, his voice stern. “Your friends and family may call you that. I’m not family, nor am I your friend. I’m the principal, and I’m responsible for making sure you are here to learn, not be a high school vigilante. It’s admirable that you stuck up for someone you do not know, but fighting is never the answer.” He turned his attention back to Aden and his mother. “Fighting is not tolerated. Neither is bullying.” He paused and held up his hand as Mrs. Maier began to speak. “No, Mrs. Maier, say another word and I’ll suspend Aden.” His tone was sharp and commanding. It made Maddie smirk.

  “Wipe that grin off your face,” Tina and Principal Devin said together.

  Principal Devin continued. “This is the first day of school. The first day! You do not want to start off your year in this fashion, Madison. I know both of you are coming . . . from different, but difficult, situations. Considering that, I’m not going to suspend you.” He turned to Aden. “Aden, I’m, however, going to require you to attend an anti-bullying seminar. Madison,” he said, turning back to her, “you will undergo a session with a school counselor on anger management and proper conflict resolution. I don’t want to see you fighting again.”

  “Then you better get rid of all the bullies in this high school. I’m not going to stand by and do nothing if I see it. I don’t care what you do or tell me.”

  “Don’t test me, young lady.”

  “I’m not testing. I’m telling.”

  The principal sat back in his chair with a dumbfounded look. A slight curve of the lip followed. Just a flash. There and then, it was gone in less than the blink of an eye. Whether it was in admiration or a sneer, Maddie could not tell.

  Beside her, the heat of her mother’s stare bored into her.

  “Madison—” Maddie’s widening eyes stopped Tina cold. She swallowed, then continued. “Madison Jennings, you sit there and remain silent. Principal Devin, this will not be a problem again.”

  “No, it won’t,” proclaimed Mrs. Maier, “because if this thug of a girl comes near my boy again, I will have her arrested and make sure she is expelled from this school.”

  “Bitch—” Derek began.

  “Derek!”

  Maddie’s eyes bugged out wide and round as her mother’s voice sounded off like a thunderclap. For the first time, Maddie glimpsed the anger her mother was concealing. A flutter echoed through Maddie’s stomach, and her cocksure attitude cracked.

  Principal Devin spoke into the silent void. “Mrs. Maier, I will make these decisions, not you or any other parent. I’m perfectly within my rights to expel both Madison and Aden.”

  Mrs. Maier rose from her chair and leaned forward against the desk. Her eyes staked Principal Devin to the back window. “And I’m within my rights to sue this school and this—”

  “That will not be necessary, Sophia,” said a voice behind everyone.

  Mrs. Maier whipped her head around. Aden’s head followed a fraction slower. Maddie saw him do a double take. His eyes were wide. Throughout the meeting, Aden had held a simmering anger that matched Maddie’s. Now the anger evaporated, leaving Aden with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights face.

  “What are you doing here?” The ice in the query from Aden’s mother made her earlier demeanor seem balmy.

  Maddie turned to see what the fuss was about. A man stood in the doorway of the office. He was tall with square shoulders. He wore a well-crafted suit that managed to accent his athletic build. His blue-black hair was cut short and styled to the left. If living models for comic book heroes existed, this man would be first on the call list. The shape of his nose and his blue-green eyes gave him away.

  Maddie knew that nose. She had punched it not an hour earlier. She looked over at Aden to confirm, and there was no doubt. This was Aden’s father.

  A flustered receptionist stood behind him. She snaked past him and handed a piece of paper to the principal. “I’m sorry, sir. He would not wait.”

  “That paper means nothing,” said Mrs. Maier.

  Principal Devin took a moment to peruse the paper. He raised an eyebrow as his eyes followed the words written on it. “Mrs. Maier, this court order says that Mr., um, Mr. Kent?”

  “Nooo way!” said Maddie, unable to help herself. She turned to Aden. “That would make you an alien from another planet.”

  A curl of the lip from Maddie’s mom and a slight cough from her dad signaled their shared amusement. Principal Devin was less so.

  “Young lady, you have been asked more than once to remain silent. You seem hard of hearing, so . . .”—Principal Devin slammed his hand on the desk, sending the pen holder into the air—“shut up!”

  Silence.

  “I’m sure you think you’re amusing. You are not. I’ve seen a hundred smartass kids stroll through these doors. It’s unoriginal. It’s tedious. Things I find tedious don’t remain in t
his school for long.”

  Maddie mimed zipping her lips shut, then folded her hands in her lap.

  “Now then,” the principal continued, “Mrs. Maier, this is a court order saying that Mr. Kent has full custody of his son, Aden. That means all matters related to school are to be handled with him. With his permission, I’ll allow you to remain here as we finish with this matter.”

  Mr. Kent stepped into the room and extended his hand to Tina. “I’m Aden’s father. I apologize for what happened this morning.” He then turned to Maddie. He looked her over, then turned to look at Aden with a raised eyebrow. Aden swallowed and looked away.

  “There is nothing to apologize for. Our son was attacked,” Mrs. Maier said with heat.

  “Sophia, please,” said Mr. Kent. “I think we both know that the incident at summer camp is not only why I have custody, but means our son is not innocent in this matter.” A casual wave of his hand dismissed any further argument. He turned his attention back to Maddie. “This will not happen again. I can promise you that. Principal Devin, whatever punishment you deem appropriate is fine by me. However, considering this unfortunate start to the year, and the . . . transition Aden will need to make as I take over his care, I would like him to be excused for the rest of the day.”

  “That would be fine. My secretary will fill you in on the necessary information and get you the forms we will need regarding this other matter.”

  And just like that, the contentious meeting was over, cut short like a football game caught in a blackout. Principal Devin suggested that Maddie be excused as well, a suggestion her mother was a little too quick to accept. As she walked with her parents to their car, she could not stop glancing in Aden’s direction. He shuffled more than walked toward a Range Rover. Next to him, his mother hurled words at Aden’s dad, wild hands gesticulating to underscore points of contention. Mr. Kent kept a steady pace, granting the walking ice storm the attention an ant gets from a horse.

  Aden opened the car door, looked at his parents, then looked toward Maddie. She expected to see a sour or angry face. Instead, Aden’s look conveyed the feeling of a million teenagers the world over—one that overcame all arguments and disagreements: pure unadulterated embarrassment. Maddie sucked in a breath.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him, little girl,” said her mother. “Your ass has problems of your own.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Silence sat like an uninvited passenger as Aden and his father drove through the streets and byways of town. Aden, in the front seat, squeezed up against the passenger door. He tried not to look like he was doing it, but he wanted to be as far away from his dad as possible. He stared out the window, content to watch the stores, buildings, and businesses whoosh pass.

  They drove a full twenty minutes before pulling into the empty lot of a rustic brick office building. His father pulled into a parking space, then spoke for the first time. “It looks like I was right to come early.”

  Aden snorted. “Yeah, how’s that?”

  “Because it’s obvious you did not learn your lesson this summer.”

  “And what lesson was I supposed to learn?” Aden continued to stare out the window, but he knew his father was looking at him. He turned and gave him a defiant stare, but the steel in his father’s eyes wilted the defiance.

  “Get out the car.”

  Without a word, Mr. Kent exited. He did not slam the door shut, but there was enough force in his swing to convey the message: Aden had better be out of the car and walking behind him.

  Mr. Kent marched to the door of the building, unlocked it, and swung it open as he looked behind him. Aden was a couple of steps behind, shuffling along.

  “Pick up your feet, boy.”

  Aden switched from a shuffle to a walking jog and entered the building. Soon as he was inside, he stopped in his tracks. They were in a wide-open space. A small desk complete with a hutch and cubicle walls around it were to the right. Set off from it was a leather couch with a table in front of it. A few filing cabinets stood against the wall. To the left of the large office stood a treadmill and a complete powerlifting station. But what made Aden stop in his tracks was a square, roped-off area. Aden looked at it and then at his father. He began sweating.

  In front of him stood a makeshift boxing ring. Aden took a step back—right into his father’s hands. A hand clasped the back of his neck and pushed him toward the ring. “The boy you bullied? He was smaller than you, correct? Just like the boys at camp, right?” When Aden did not answer quick enough, the fingers on his neck squeezed tighter. “Answer me!”

  “Yes, yes he was smaller.”

  “Like how you’re smaller than me?”

  Aden endured the tightening fingers. He knew the pinching pain was better than what was to come. His father bent down to his ear. “Get in.”

  Aden had little choice but to obey as his father lifted a rope and all but shoved him into the ring. He followed Aden, pausing to take off his suit jacket and each of his shoes. “Do you remember what I told you last summer?”

  “Adrian—” Aden began but was cut short by a quick cuff to his head.

  “That’s not what you call me.”

  The comment brought some of Aden’s earlier fire back, and he stood up straighter. “It’s all you should be called.”

  Mr. Kent answered with another quick strike to Aden’s face, then another to the side of his head. Neither of the blows was hard enough to do any serious damage but were snappy enough to sting. “And what should a big boy like you, who picks a fight with a small boy and a girl, be called?”

  Another swing came toward Aden’s face but this time ended with a sharp finger pluck to the side of his nose.

  “Stop it!” yelled Aden.

  “Stop? How many times did today’s victim yell stop? Did you stop when he asked you? No, no I bet ‘stop’ is what you yelled to the little girl who kicked your ass.”

  “She didn’t kick my ass!” Aden roared and launched himself at his father.

  The attack did not last long. One moment he was swinging, and the next he was looking at an upside-down flashing image of the desk and couch. Then he was hitting the floor square on his back. The impact knocked his wind away like a deflated balloon. As he struggled to regain his breath, his father stood over him.

  “No, you gave as much as you got by throwing her around like I just did you.” Mr. Kent bent down and lifted Aden up by his shoulders. “Stop trying to breathe in fast. Breathe in slow through your nose. That’s right, nice and easy.”

  Aden breathed in and out several more times before Mr. Kent repositioned himself to look his son dead in the eye.

  “There are two types of physical people in the world: the strong and the . . .?”

  “We, we, weak,” Aden stammered.

  “No. There is the strong and the less strong. Picking on or fighting someone smaller or weaker than you does not make you strong. It does not prove your strength because you’re picking on someone who cannot fight back. It shows your weakness because you took the easy way to victory. It shows your cowardice. Cowards prey on the weak. I have not always been here, though I wanted to be. But, I am your father, and you are now my sole responsibility. It’s up to me to raise you, and you better get two things into your head, or I will knock you around in this gym until you do.” Mr. Kent paused and put his hand under Aden’s chin, his eyes burning with intensity.

  “No son of mine will be a coward, and he will not be a bully. Are we clear?”

  Aden turned his head away but nodded his assent.

  “Aden, look at me.” Aden did as he was told and moved back in alignment with his father’s face. “You see this look on my face?” Again, Aden nodded. “When you see this face, and I ask you a question, you answer ‘Yes, sir.’ Now, are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Kent nodded, stood, and walked over to his suit jacket and shoes. “Aden,” he said over his shoulder, “two other things: If you call me Adrian again, I’ll smack
you in the mouth hard enough to need tooth implants. Second, would you like to know what a strong person is?”

  “I guess.”

  Mr. Kent scowled. “Don’t be wishy-washy. If you don’t want to know, say so. If you want to know, then say that.”

  Aden had little interest in the answer but was too curious not to ask. “What is a strong person?”

  “Someone who protects those weaker than themselves.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dr. Gillian Croft sat across from the pensive teenager, her hands folded in her lap, waiting. Thus far, the wait was moving into a full five minutes of silence. It was a tactic she often used with, or on—depending on whom you asked—her patients. As a clinical therapist specializing in grief and post-traumatic stress disorder, she found that starting a session in silence was an excellent way to allow the patient to bring up what was bothering them most. Few people could stand empty silence.

  Little Madison Jennings, or Madelynne Collins as Dr. Croft knew her, was not most people.

  The silence was a warm blanket for her. She sat across from Dr. Croft, twiddling her thumbs, looking at items in the office she had seen a dozen times. She did not avoid Dr. Croft’s face; she had made full eye contact several times in the last five minutes. Each time she had, Dr. Croft noted a gleam of challenge—no, that was not the word. Challenge and rebellion were not what she saw. She had known the young girl long enough to recognize both plain as day. This was something else.

  Tina Collins, now Tina Jennings—she needed to remember that—had called frantic, begging for an emergency session for her daughter. Despite a full appointment roster, Dr. Croft had made the time. She knew the facts, as Maddie’s mother understood them anyway: a fight on the first day of school, a boy who was bullying—then it clicked in Dr. Croft’s head. She knew what she saw when she looked into Maddie’s eyes.