The Madison Jennings Series Box Set

by Kiara Ashanti

  After a few minutes of ignoring each other, Maddie broke the impasse. “What did you want? I mean just now, not in general, though I guess that too.”

  “Nothing really. I just heard you crashing through the doors and thought I’d ask what was wrong. Though I did see that video, so I guess I don’t really need to ask, now that I think about it.” Inside, Aden cursed himself. He was babbling and had no idea why.

  “Why do you care?”

  The rude tone rubbed him the wrong way.

  “I don’t. Whatever. I was just being nice.”

  “Oh, so you’re the nice guy now?”

  “Jesus, you’re just like that chick Jessica Jones.”

  “What?” exclaimed Maddie. “That bitch from the Netflix show?”

  “Yup.”

  “So . . . you’re calling me a bitch?”

  Aden regarded her coolly. “No, I’m calling you Jessica Jones. You called her a bitch. You could have just as easily called her the ‘superhero’ from Netflix.”

  Maddie turned away with a disgusted grimace. “No real superhero is that annoying or bitchy.”

  “Well, you’re like her, so . . .” Aden let the conclusion hang in the air. Maddie faced him again, this time with a sardonic smirk.

  “So, you’re actually saying I’m a superhero. Cool.”

  Aden hung his head. That is so not what I meant. Before any more awkwardness could ensue, his father pulled up to the entrance. Aden ran to the car and jumped inside. Mr. Kent looked at his son, then in the direction of Maddie.

  “Does Madison need a ride?”

  Aden snapped his head up, horror written on his face. “Dad, drive the car. Pull away right now.”

  Mr. Kent raised an eyebrow and glanced back at Maddie. He could tell she was avoiding looking in their direction. Oh boy, Mr. Kent thought. It begins.

  Chapter Forty

  Cathy cursed as she rushed out of the woods. The impromptu afternoon party was rolling, but the guys were getting a little too grabby for her taste. She was wasted, but she was not stupid. That thought died in her mind as she reached the jogging path. The night was now darker than when she had bolted from the party, and she suddenly became anxious. She reached in her purse to grab her phone. “Shit!” she exclaimed when she saw the twin curses of no bars and one percent power left. She had taken too many Instagram selfies. She couldn’t call Uber now.

  Huffing, Cathy vaguely remembered a gas station on the same road as the park entrance. Walking would be hell in her four-inch-heeled boots, and there was no way she was walking back to the party.

  “Sure, Cat, let’s go party with tokers in the creepy woods. Good job, scream queen,” she said aloud to herself. Despite her fear as she walked down the dark path, she giggled at her self-imposed nickname. She totally felt like the blonde who gets it in the first five minutes of a slasher flick.

  Cathy powerwalked down the path. She was still high, so this was a recipe for disaster. Before long, she lost her balance, veered to her left, and stumbled into a bench. Pain screamed through her.

  “Fuck!”

  She crashed down on the bench to rub her leg. Dark or not, she needed a moment to catch her breath. As she rubbed her shins, the sound of footsteps approaching broke through her annoyance. Fear slid through her then dissipated when she saw a small female runner on the trail. She went back to rubbing her leg.

  “Are you OK?” said the runner, who jogged over to her.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just hit my leg on the bench.”

  The runner frowned, then glanced around the area.

  Cathy started giggling. The park bench was a good four feet from the edge of the path. “I sort of swerved to the side,” she said, moving in time with the words, “and then hit it. It looked closer than it does now.”

  The runner waited a beat before asking the obligatory question. “Are you sure you’re OK? Is anyone coming to get you or waiting for you in the parking lot?”

  “Well, ya know, if boys weren’t assholes, then maybe they would be. But the ones I was hanging with seemed to be a bit too interested in a different kind of party. So no, it’s Uber for me. Except”—she held out her phone and twisted it back and forth—“I got no battery charge.”

  “Well, sometimes boys aren’t very nice.” The runner looked around again, then nodded. “No worries. You can use my phone to call Uber. Here.”

  “Thank you very much. That’s majorly cool of you. Maybe we can party sometime—”

  She reached for the phone but got a sharp pain in her neck instead.

  “What was . . .,” she began but never finished. She fell forward into the hands of the runner, who simply leaned her back against the bench.

  The runner looked around again, then sent a phone text. She leaned back and waited.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Maddie pulled a long-sleeved camo shirt over her head, then plopped down on her bed. Today was judgment day. She was preparing to head out to a Habitat for Humanity home build as punishment for the fight with the school’s jocks. Aden and several other football players would be joining her. For some inexplicable reason, her mother had agreed to allow Mr. Kent to drive her there along with Aden.

  As punishments went, there were worse ones than helping a charity. But Maddie considered being stuck in a closed space as punishment enough. As she rose from her bed to grab breakfast, her computer pinged. She quickly locked her door before sitting at her desk and moving her mouse to activate the screen.

  What the hell is going on over there?

  Maddie stared at the question shouted by her cyberfriend. What are you talking about? she typed.

  I spent more than a few hours earlier this week scrubbing the web of some horrific video of a hillbilly freshman trying to dance on a cheerleading squad. Then I spent another hour scrubbing the sites about that same 14-year-old hillbilly.

  Maddie was speechless and confused, then the truth dawned on her.

  I tried to show them to a teacher but couldn’t bring them up. You’re the one who took them down?

  Yes. And seeing you like that was totally humiliating. I’d beg you to stop, but I’m more concerned about why you were on the net to begin with.

  Maddie did not know what to react to first—her cyberfriend seeing that painful video or that he must have been monitoring her. If it had been anyone else, it would have been creepy.

  Not my choice, she typed. It was revenge for something.

  Yeah, well putting someone’s boyfriend into the hospital tends to inspire vengeful thoughts.

  How does he know that? thought Maddie, but before she could type out a query, she heard her mother calling her.

  I have to go. Mother is calling me. Thanks though.

  It’s no problem, but stay off the radar. I need to concentrate on the important stuff. Not this.

  The response struck Maddie as odd, but she was out of chat time. She put the computer back to sleep and headed downstairs.

  Her mother stood in the kitchen sipping a mug of coffee. “Grab something to eat before you leave.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Tina rolled her eyes at her daughter’s sullen tone. “You know, if I gave you the silent treatment every time I was upset with you, we’d never talk again.”

  Maddie looked at her mother and shrugged, sending a clear message: Fine by me.

  “Such a drama queen. I should have had boys.”

  Maddie found her mother’s demeanor puzzling. Tina had never been one to hold grudges, so the fact that she would look past Aden’s behavior and his father’s indelicate remarks did not surprise Maddie. Maddie and her father were the bulldogs in the family. If it were up to Derek, he would have driven her to the home build himself, but Daddy Dearest was away at a conference.

  Maddie had not been around when Mr. Kent had called. She did not even know he had their number. Her mother, hell the whole family, were tightfisted with personal details. A life spent making sure you did not end up in the media would do that. St
ill, Maddie was willing to bet her mother had almost jumped at the opportunity not to have to choose either of two unpleasant options.

  “Madelynne, be careful today.”

  Habit almost evoked one of her standard sarcastic responses, but the look on her mother’s face, coupled with the usage of her real name, erased the impulse. “Mom, I know the drill by now. OK?”

  “Still, it’s a long ride and a long day. Mr. Kent may try and get to know you.”

  A pinch of annoyance flashed in Maddie. “He’s picking me up, not taking me on a date.”

  If her mother wanted to say anything else, it was forgotten at the sound of the doorbell ringing. Maddie grabbed her jacket, backpack, and cell phone, and headed for the door. She opened it to find Aden on the other side.

  “Good morning, Aden,” said her mom from behind her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Jennings. Thank you for letting Madison come with us.”

  Maddie stopped midstep and looked at Aden with a raised eyebrow. Once they were out of earshot and the front door was closed behind her, she spoke.

  “Why did you thank my mother?”

  “My dad told me to do it.”

  “You couldn’t just tell him you did it?”

  Aden wrinkled his face as they neared the car. “I don’t think that would have worked. He always knows stuff. It’s like he’s psychic or can read lips or something.”

  Maddie paused at the car and gave Aden a look.

  “Seriously, I can’t get away with half the stuff I used to with my mom or stepdad.”

  Even though they had not opened the car door and Aden was basically whispering, Mr. Kent chimed in.

  “And you never will again. Now get in. Daylight’s burning.”

  Aden opened the door and leaned into Maddie’s ear as she got in the car. “See, told ya.”

  Either by consent or pleading by Aden, there was little conversation on the drive over. Besides an initial hello, Mr. Kent was content just to drive. Aden stayed on his phone playing some sort of video game or looking at social media sites. Maddie sat in the back listening to a compilation of dubstep violin music. She was happy to not engage in conversation.

  The directions on Google Maps had the trip pegged at a forty-seven-minute ride. The map people must have had her mother in mind and not Mr. Kent. Engrossed in her music and the smooth ride of the Range Rover, Maddie never noticed just how fast Mr. Kent was driving. They arrived at their destination in just under thirty minutes.

  The lot for the home was in a typical working-class neighborhood. Signs of wear and tear appeared on many of the homes—mismatched tiles covered roofs, paint colors had faded with age, and several homes had air conditioners in their windows. But here and there, you could see the fight for urban renewal blossoming—freshly painted homes, repaired sidewalks, the architectural design of a modern home intermixed with older styles from the seventies.

  As they pulled past an empty lot, Maddie noticed two things. One: Some of the preliminary work necessary for a home had already been completed. The foundation was laid, and, she assumed, the necessary lower plumbing work was completed as well. Two: An American flag with the silhouette of a soldier carrying another soldier over his shoulder

  waved.

  “I thought we were working with Habitat for Humanity?” she asked.

  “We are,” said Mr. Kent.

  “Then why is there a Wounded Warriors flag here?”

  Mr. Kent parked the Range Rover, then shut it off as he turned to Maddie with a look of approval and appreciation.

  “Not all teenagers spend their time self-obsessively glued to their phones and social status, you know,” she blurted. A millisecond later, she realized how rude the comment was and slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “Hey,” said Aden from the front seat, “I’m not checking my social status. I’m studying plays.”

  “Yet the assumption that she was talking about you proves the self-obsessed part I believe,” said Mr. Kent.

  Maddie could not help but laugh at Aden’s expense.

  “Whatever. I’m just making sure that when I end up on the World Wide Web, it’s for something worth seeing.”

  The verbal jab hit home, and Maddie turned cherry red.

  “Let’s go,” said Mr. Kent, and they all got out of the car. As they started toward the lot down the street, he returned to Maddie’s question. “Today’s build is a joint project between Habitat for Humanity and Wounded Warriors. The father of the family served in the Marines. Lost a leg in North Africa.”

  “Fighting Khorasan or New ISIS?”

  The question stopped Mr. Kent in his tracks. Again, he appraised Maddie with a look and this time a definitive nod of approval. “I’m not sure. Got quite an interest in foreign affairs I see.”

  Maddie stared off in the distance, her mind elsewhere. “It’s good to know in case the foreign turns into the domestic.”

  For the third time in ten minutes, the teenager had impressed Mr. Kent. There was more to her than her spunkiness or quick temper.

  Maddie started walking, rolling her shoulder-length black hair into a tight ponytail as she did. A new demeanor took over her. She and Aden were about to spend a Saturday morning doing hard labor as punishment. They could not be happy about it, but knowing the build was to benefit a member of the military turned Maddie’s attitude around. They had served to keep her safe. She could do a little work to give a veteran a home.

  Mr. Kent continued to study Maddie as they checked in at the volunteer table. Aden had signed his name and moved over to speak to the other members of his football team, who were also being punished. Maddie, however, signed in and then went to every wounded warrior and veteran present. She gave them the same spiel.

  “Hi, I’m Madison Jennings. I’m here to help build the house today. I want to thank you for your service and for keeping all of us safe. Thanks for killing the bad guys.”

  Members of the military were used to getting “thank yous” from most people. Many of them took it in stride, not seeing it as anything special or often understanding that many people said the line “Thank you for your service” as a verbal reflex, like saying “How are you doing?” Maddie’s ending comment, however, raised some eyebrows.

  She finished her heartfelt thank yous by telling them all, “I want you to understand that this is not charity. We, every American, owe you so much. This is just a part of us repaying that debt.”

  Every veteran present knew this was no reflex platitude. Maddie had conveyed the sincerity and seriousness of her thanks. It was as solid as the hammers and saws they were using to build today’s home.

  For the next two hours, Maddie hammered, cleaned, and insisted on sawing two-by-fours. She was in constant motion, a busy bumblebee flitting from workstation to workstation. She asked the volunteers that had served questions about their boot camps, which was the top service unit, and where they thought politicians were screwing up.

  If the veterans were bothered by her questions and subject choices, they did not show it. They answered and ribbed each other in front of Maddie as if she had transformed into their own private mascot.

  As everyone broke for lunch, a grizzled veteran with flametop hair grimaced after taking a deep gulp of bottled water. “Man, I need something with a little more kick.” Seeing the raised eyebrows all around him, he immediately clarified, “Kick as in caffeine, not kick as in an adult beverage.”

  “There are some Cokes by the water station. I can go get you one,” offered Maddie.

  “Nah, that’s like watered down tea to me. I need a Monster or Amp or something.”

  Maddie stood up. “Well, if you’re that interested in having a heart attack, there is a store a couple of blocks away. Toss me a few dollars, and I will go grab you a couple of cans.”

  He smiled in delight, then reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet. “If the hajis in the sandbox, the mutant critters of South America, or the cake-eaters in the service didn’t kill me, then some
swill made in America won’t.”

  Maddie took a five. “I’ll get you an Amp. It’s better than Monster.”

  “An energetic and health-conscious teenager would know that how?”

  Maddie laughed and started walking away. Mr. Kent sidled up next to her.

  “I’ll drive you down to the store.”

  “Oh, that’s OK. It’s not even three blocks. I don’t mind walking.”

  “Yes, it’s close, but this neighborhood is unfamiliar.”

  “It’s perfectly safe,” she said, then shrugged. “And if not, have you forgotten how I ended up in this position today?”

  Mr. Kent frowned. “Fight when you must, but avoid it whenever possible.”

  “Jesus, you sound like my trainer.” Maddie regretted the slip of the tongue and tried to cover the statement up. “Well, if it makes you feel better, then just have someone come with me.” She looked past Mr. Kent to where Aden was helping paint the porch. “Aden!” she yelled. “Come go to the store with me.”

  The football players around Aden snapped their heads up in shock, causing Maddie to wince. She had not meant to bark like that. She was sure she sounded like a deranged and hungry Mrs. Wolowitz.

  Aden put his paint roller down, then jogged over to Maddie and his father. “Dad,” he said as soon as he reached them, “don’t men usually get a little something first before girls get to order us around?”

  If Aden had seen the look on his father’s face, he would have witnessed embarrassed shock morphing into amusement. As it was, all he saw was Maddie getting nose to nose with him.

  “Oh, so you’re a man now, huh? And just want a little something? What something do you think you should be getting?”

  As Aden’s paraphrased words were thrown back at him, the double entendre dawned on him. His face drained of color. “No, no I didn’t—”

  Maddie had already turned from him and started walking in the direction of the convenience store. Aden turned to his father in a panic.