“Oh bullshit!” yelled Maddie.
Mr. Y Leiro ignored her outburst. He pointed to Aden, who had raised his hand. “What is an honor killing?”
“It’s when a parent, usually the dad, kills a family member because they have brought shame to the family, like if their daughter was raped or gay,” answered Tiffani.
“That’s an oversimplification, Tiffani,” said Mr. Y Leiro. “There is more to it than that, but we are moving away from the central theme here. Whether we agree with the law or not, it is the law. It is clear that it is against the law there for women to consort with men they are not married to or who are not part of their family, just as it is against the law and their religion to work with men. When you visit a country, you should abide by their laws. I’m sure this was explained to all the students.”
“So, it’s their fault?” asked Maddie.
“Who else’s fault could it be?”
“The barbaric thinking of a society living in the Stone Age, perhaps?” queried Tiffani.
Mr. Y Leiro’s brows narrowed. “That sounds like colonialism-based thinking, or perhaps white supremacy—the idea that your society’s norms and conventions are superior to that of another society.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Y Leiro,” said Aden from the back row. “If some guy forces your daughter to have sex, it seems weird to want to kill her and not the rapist. I don’t know nothing about ‘white supremacy,’ I just know rape is wrong and sitting next to a guy in the middle of a crowd drinking coffee is trivial by comparison.”
“From an American point of view, yes.”
“Riddle me this then, teacher. All of these terrorists around the world, they want to kill us all, unless we turn to Islam and Allah. Is that not acting like your society is superior and you’re willing to kill to make it so?”
Mr. Y Leiro looked at Maddie. He shook his head in acceptance of her question, but his eyes told a different story. They flashed black and hard like obsidian. He did not like the tone or content of the question.
“There are extremists in all societies and religions. My only concern here is to teach you that our way, the American way, is not the only way. We are not better than, we are different than. If you wish to visit another country, you must follow their laws.”
“Like following our immigration laws,” quipped Maddie.
“I don’t care for your tone, Miss Jennings. Mind it.” He pointed to Tiffani.
“So, when they come to America, should they follow our laws? Their wives do not have to be covered or be accompanied everywhere by their husbands or fathers? They can be like us?”
“They are not allowed to cover themselves in many areas. They must show their faces, for example, if they want a driver’s license. Some places do not allow a full burka to be worn. It is biased, no doubt.”
“That is for safety, so we know they are not loaded with weapons,” said Maddie.
“No, no, Miss Jennings, you do not get to pull that card. I think it is what Mr. Bilson calls intellectual dishonesty. The dress of Orthodox Jews, Mennonites, and Pentecostal Christians all encourage women to cover themselves. They are not asked to dress down for security reasons.”
“That’s because we haven’t had Jews of any type commit terrorism.”
“The Palestinians might disagree.”
“Whose side are you on?” asked Maddie with an edge in her voice.
Another touch on her leg. This time she ignored Tiffani and kept her eyes bored into Mr. Y Leiro.
“Knowledge and understanding, Miss Jennings. I wish you all the knowledge and understanding you can get so that you can deal with other cultures and people with equal respect. Now then, we’ve wasted half the class on this current event. I want you to find three additional examples of Americans being punished in other countries for breaking a law specific to a country’s cultures, laws, and customs. No theft or murder. That is universal. Culturally specific only. That is your homework assignment. Now open your books to where we left off last class.”
“These jihadist jagoffs need to respect women and girls first,” muttered Maddie.
She did not realize she had said it louder than she had intended. Nor did she see the narrowed eyes of her teacher on her or Tiffani staring at her.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Maddie was so engrossed in looking at the clock that she did not notice Mr. Bilson walking over to her until he placed his hand on hers. His touch stopped the pencil she was tapping on the desk with extreme impatience. Her eyes jolted upward. A face full of disapproval stared back at her.
“Madison, that is a pencil in your hand, not a jackhammer.”
“Sorry, just waiting for the bell. Kinda hungry.”
“Sure you are.”
Mr. Bilson’s tone told her he did not buy it. Each of her classes had started the same way: a conversation about the students in Saudi Arabia. Most teachers had blamed the “ugly Americans” for not conforming. Maddie’s throat was raw from arguing the opposite. Worse, Maddie’s nerves were frazzled. She had snapped at fellow students and teachers alike—even Mr. Bilson, who was her favorite. She had lost all patience with everyone. She needed her lunch hour like a man in a desert needs water.
Mr. Bilson bent down to speak but was interrupted by the school PA system.
“Will Madison Jennings please report to the front office? Madison Jennings, please report to the front office.”
The class’s students broke out into hoots and hollers, an indication that they all thought Maddie was in trouble. She wrinkled her brow and fought the compulsion to give them all the bird as she rose from her desk. Instead, she said, “Calm down, losers. I haven’t beat anyone’s ass today, but the day is still young.”
“Zero tolerance on threats, Jennings,” said Mr. Bilson as she headed for the door. “And I want twenty words you could have used instead of that curse word on my desk tomorrow!”
“Yeah, yeah,” replied Maddie over her shoulder.
Maddie pulled her phone from her backpack as she hustled down the hallway toward the front office. She kept it on vibrate in class so Mr. Bilson wouldn’t confiscate it for ringing. She had not felt it vibrate, and true to her word, she had not broken any rules today. She could not think of why she would need to go to the office.
She glanced at her phone and did not see any missed calls from her mother or missed calls, period. Maddie’s steps faltered. She now had visions of the police at the office, looking to question her about the weekend fight. She stood in the middle of the hallway until the lunch bell echoed through the school, dissolving her fugue state.
She started walking again, but this time, more tentatively. At the end of the hall, she snaked her head around the corner. She looked through the front glass doors for a police car in front of the school. A long breath of relief flowed through her. Still, she crept up to the front office door.
She looked in the window and only saw secretaries and a man in a bright yellow-and-orange DHL uniform. Maddie’s eyes darted about before she stepped into the office. “Um, I was called down here. Madison Jennings.”
A secretary rose from her desk and sent a lopsided frown in Maddie’s direction. “We are aware of who you are and what you look like. Might as well put a desk in here, you’re here so often. Why are you having mail sent here and not your home?”
“Come again,” responded Maddie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You are Madison Jennings, correct?” asked the DHL guy.
“Yeess, but I don’t know why you’re asking for me.”
“Got a package here for you with explicit instructions to deliver it only to you.”
“It’s against school policy for students to have packages delivered to the school and rude to not hand them over to an adult when they are,” said the secretary, her end sentence directed at the DHL guy.
“Hey, I only deliver the packages, ma’am. Madison, do you have any ID?”
Maddie looked from the DHL guy to the secretar
y. Neither could believe what they were hearing. “Dude, I’m fourteen and a freshman in high school.”
The DHL guy just shook his head. “Like I said, I just deliver and listen to my instructions. I need to confirm your identity.”
Maddie huffed and reached into her backpack. “My nonofficial high school ID better be good enough, or I swear I’m gonna punch you.”
“She will, you know,” said the secretary.
Maddie handed over her Galvin High identification card. The delivery guy studied it like a customs official at the airport. Maddie put her hands on her hips and stepped toward him. He looked at her with a single raised eyebrow, then handed her the ID and a puffed-out DHL envelope.
“Sign here,” he said as he handed Maddie an electronic signature machine. When she finished signing her name, he handed her a small envelope. “Read this first,” he whispered, then promptly left.
With her face scrunched in confusion, Maddie looked at his retreating back, then back at the secretary. She opened the small envelope to find a card inside. It read, Do not open in the office. LD.
LD? Who the hell? Maddie could not think of anyone she knew with the initials LD. She shrugged, thanked the secretary, and headed for the cafeteria. Forehead furrowed, Maddie racked her brain trying to figure out the initials. The answer hit her when she reached the entrance to the cafeteria. Oh my God!
With the answer glowing in her mind, she rushed through the doors and ran to her lunch table. Lilly and company were waiting for her and well into their chosen lunches of French fries loaded with ketchup.
“Whoa there, Nelly,” said Tommy. “There’s nothing on the menu good enough to run here for.”
“What’s in the envelope?” asked Lilly as she popped a bright-red lollipop from her mouth.
“I don’t know. I think it’s a gift from my friend, Nerdboy,” said Maddie.
“Tommy bought you a gift?” said Allie, deadpan.
“Hey there! Not funny. And not a nerd,” Tommy retorted. “Madison, my dear, I assure you if I give you a gift, it will be under the moonlight, not in an ugly orange-and-red envelope.”
The comment stopped Maddie midway through tearing open the envelope. She gave Tommy a withering glare while Lilly and company made gagging noises.
Maddie went back to tearing the envelope open and reached in and pulled out a sleek, shiny black phone. Tommy’s eyes grew round as saucers. Without thinking, he snatched the phone from Maddie.
“Oh my God! Do you know what this is? Wait. What am I saying? Of course you don’t.”
“I could be wrong,” began Maddie, “but I think it’s a phone.”
“No. The phone I, um, that we gave you is a phone. This . . . this is a work of electronic art.”
“Please don’t have a nerdgasm in front of us, Tommy.”
“Too late.”
“Well, that’s an unwelcome image in my mind. Gimme that,” said Maddie as she snatched the phone back. Then she looked in the envelope to find another message written on a piece of paper: Power on the phone when you get it. Lockdown
Tommy continued unabated. “You don’t understand. That is a secure phone. I’ve read about them on the web. Totally encrypted. Fast as The Flash. It’s like the type of shit you’d give James Bond.” Tommy paused, then looked at Maddie. “What the hell are you doing with one?” Quick as lightning, he reached out and snatched the note from Maddie’s hand. “Who’s Lockdown? What kind of name is that?”
Maddie reached over and grabbed Tommy’s hand. Her grip was gentle but firm as she twisted his wrist around and took the note back. She ignored his shriek of pain.
“Don’t be a baby. I didn’t even do that hard. The ‘who’ you don’t need to worry about. It’s just a computer handle, like ‘Skype.’ If you look it up on the web, I will break your arm.”
Tommy responded with a crooked twist of the mouth. It was obvious to Maddie that he considered the threat laughable. He was the computer guy after all. She reached out again, placed her hand on his arm, and squeezed.
“You said this is some high-end, secret James Bond doohickey. You think you can hide an Internet search from someone who can send something like this to me? I will find out if you look.”
Maddie’s tone, more than her words, conveyed the message loud and clear. She missed the looks of surprise and alarm on the faces at the rest of the table. Her eyeballs were trained on the phone as she powered it on. Several screens with security protocols cycled through before it settled on the main screen. A moment later, it rang.
“Hello?” said Maddie, her voice tentative.
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m at lunch, in the cafeteria.”
“Are you by yourself?”
The question irked Maddie. “No, I’m not alone. I have friends.”
“Ooh, defensive much? I need you to walk away to someplace where you cannot be heard.”
Maddie glanced at her friends, then got up and moved away.
“If you have friends, why are you walking away from us? We’ll just bug you about the phone call later, you know!” shouted Tommy after her.
“Who’s that?”
“You, when you were five.”
“Oh, so he’s totally awesome.”
Maddie’s response was a roll of her eyes Rhee could not see as she navigated through the lunch crowd toward an empty corner. “You know, if you wanted to talk to me without people, George,” said Maddie, calling Rhee by another one of his nicknames, “you should have just sent me a message on my computer. How’d you do that anyway? It’s not connected to the web.”
“Actually, the Wi-Fi is just disabled. And I needed to talk to you, not message you. Plus, in the future, this phone will let you call me any time you want and is totally secure.”
“Is it unbreakable? ’Cause if my mom finds it . . .”
Rhee snorted. “I’m more than confident that you are able to hide stuff from your mom and dad. Now listen up. I checked into that girl you asked me about.”
A flutter went through Maddie, like the spike of adrenaline she got before a hunt. She knew it was irrational, but a part of her felt she was helping just by having someone other than local police look into Shalonda’s disappearance. “What’s going on? Are the police holding back?”
Rhee paused, a signal to Maddie that she was about to get an unsatisfactory answer. “Things are more complicated than lazy police. This girl has had some real troubles in the last few years—drugs, alcohol, arrested a few times for possession. She has gone off the grid more than once.”
“Yeah, but her mom said she always calls her or shows up quickly.”
“Doesn’t change the way the police look at these things. This fits a pattern. So, while the police may be holding back, it’s likely to be for a good reason.”
“What about the other ones?”
“That compounds the bad news. You weren’t kidding when you said there were a slew of overdoses. There have been a bunch—a little too many if you ask me, but considering all the other girls who are missing are also users, it’s not raising a flag.”
“How the hell—” Maddie didn’t finish her sentence. The last thing she wanted was a teacher or aide walking over to her. She lowered her voice. “You just said all the ‘other girls.’ How does a bad batch of drugs, if that’s what they are, choose only girls? Hello!”
“Don’t have an answer for you on that. All the info I dug into showed the only similarities as drugs and alcohol, missing for days, then showing back up. I personally think the police are relieved, because anything else would look like a serial killer.”
“Well, don’t I feel warm and fuzzy now.” Again, she paused. This was not the information she had hoped to hear. If she was honest with herself, she was not sure what she had expected. “Could it be . . . a serial killer or something?”
“I doubt it. I don’t know. Maybe. Serial killers have a pattern. None of these fit that. And the only—”
“Bodies,” Maddie f
inished for him. “Don’t be so worried. I have quite literally seen bodies in front of me.”
“Yes, Madison, I know. I saw it too,” responded Rhee, his voice tight. “The point is the missing women are users and runaways. Beyond their sex, there is no real pattern.”
“Not true. There is a pattern,” said Maddie, her voice bitter.
“And oh sage of ninth grade, what do you know that no one else does?”
“No one cares about druggies and runaways.”
“They do when one is the daughter of a prominent businessman in the Denver area. He’s putting pressure on one of the state senators to have the FBI get involved.”
“I haven’t heard anything on the news.”
Rhee laughed really loud, forcing Maddie to hold the phone away from her face.
“You wouldn’t have. A rich donor pressuring a senator to intervene in ways not available to the Shalondas of the world is not something you want on the nightly or cable news. It’s managed to stay hush-hush because there is nothing there. It’s a strained relationship, and the girl travels all over the country partying hard. The FBI does not think it’s an abduction either. Sorry. Though I’m not exactly sure why I’m apologizing, seeing as you’re in high school and not a cop.”
Maddie huffed deeply, then bit her lip. “All of it sounds janky to me. So many in the last few months, regardless of the miles between them, is weird.”
Rhee sighed. “It’s actually more.”
“Huh?” said Maddie.
“Madison, hundreds of kids and people go missing in cities every day. Thousands per week. Throw in drugs, and it rises exponentially. I’m afraid to tell you that it’s not all that uncommon, but that you are concerned says a lot about you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Right now, I feel like you’re patting me on the head and telling me to go back to class, little girl.”
“I’m not doing that. Promise. One other thing though: Try not to get into any more trouble. One of the cops at that fight tried to access your records.
“Shit!”
“Don’t worry, I was able to erase the query, and I got Mako to have a chat with someone at Homeland Security. So, you’re good. I promise.”
The Madison Jennings Series Box Set Page 27