Me – Still a go! You’ll ride with Tatum. Dress wise, I’m not sure. I’m guessing Tatum will want to go shopping. What’re you doing after school?”
Tillie – Today?
Me – Yes.
Tillie – I can come.
Me – Okay, we’ll pick you up from school.
I haven’t been to Tillie’s school before. Never had a reason to. But suddenly, I want to see it. There’s so much to Tillie I still don’t know, but she fits in with Tatum and me like the missing puzzle we need. The day goes slow, and I pass my science test, even though I didn’t study for it. I’m walking out of class at the end of the day, when Tatum catches up to me, clutching her books and out of breath.
“Shit, bitch, slow down next time.” She huffs.
I giggle. “Maybe we should start exercising.”
We both pause and look at each other, then start laughing. “Maybe not.”
I nudge her. “Hey, we have to pick up Tillie. She wants to go shopping for this weekend.”
“Yes!” Tatum says, rolling her shoulders like she’s gearing up for war.
I stop. “What? Now you want to exercise your shoulders?”
“Of course,” she mutters. “Dad’s black card is about to get a workout.”
Walking out the front of the school, we wait for Sam to pick us up. Sam is my dad’s other driver, but she’s more my driver when Dad is away and takes Harry with him.
Since yesterday, I’ve ignored Nate and his wanting to give me rides to school. I have nothing really to say to them, and I don’t trust any of them, even less since they kidnapped me. Which Tatum still doesn’t know about.
We slide in, and Sam smiles at me in the rearview mirror. “Have a good day?”
I shrug. “Could have been better.”
“But...,” Sam prompts, knowing what I’m like. Sam has been our driver since as long as I can remember. She’s a fifty-two-year-old African American woman who has practically raised me since I was a child. Her and Jimmy both did. Jimmy is almost sixty, and I’ve been trying to get them together for years. If you ask me, I’d say they’ve been sporting a bit of a crush on each other for years now, but neither of them wants to act on it.
Tatum interrupts, “But she has boy trouble.”
“Oh,” Sam quips, pulling out onto the street. “What kind? The kind I’ll need a shovel and an alibi for, or the kind I should make pie and threaten to cut his balls off until he forgives you kind?”
I giggle and Tatum laughs. “No, neither. I don’t want you making pies for any of them.”
“You be careful, baby. I know you think you don’t care and you shut all your feelings out, but one of these days, it could bite you in the ass.”
“What?” I snort, leaning back in my seat. “Like I might start caring too much?”
Sam shakes her head. “No, baby girl, more like you might not be able to ever switch it back on. You’re too young. Live, feel, have sex—don’t tell your father I said that—but don’t ever not feel. That’s what makes you Madison.”
“I feel, Sam,” I whisper, looking out the window. I can see Tatum staring at me out the corner of my eye, no doubt brewing her hundred and one questions she’s going to slam me with. “I just try to choose where I direct my energy and who deserves it.” Sam knows about my past and what happened there. She’s the only person walking this earth who knows, and that’s how I like to keep it. The only reason she knows is because I came home drunk from a party one time and spilled everything to her.
“Hey.” Tatum nudges me. “What’s up with you spending so much time in the library anyway?”
“I don’t know. I’ve always loved books.”
“Nuh-uh,” Tatum says. “There’s something else.”
Sam looks at me with a smile. “Madi has always liked books. We used to read her everything when she was a little girl, and she was reading chapter books when she turned six. Smart girl, in some aspects.”
We pull up to the house and I slide out. “Thanks, Sam. Can you tell Jimmy that me, Tatum, and Tillie will be home for dinner tonight?”
“What about Nate?” Sam asks, just as I’m getting out of the car.
“Fuck Nate.”
“Madison Maree Montgomery!”
“Oh, you did not just triple-M me, Sammy!” I spin back around to face her with a grin on my face as I walk backward toward the house. “You take that back!” Triple-M is my initials. I despise the fact that my name starts with an M all three times. I think it was my mom’s way of punishing me just a little bit more. I used to joke about that when she was still alive, but now that she’s dead, the thought just makes me feel guilty.
“Don’t swear at me, little lady!” Sammy doesn’t like swearing, and her hackles go up anytime someone cusses around her. That’s probably why she and Jimmy never worked, because the Italian has a foul mouth. Which is one of the many reasons why I’ve always loved him. He sometimes swears in Italian, and for a long time when I was younger, we would both swear in Italian around Sam so she didn’t know. “Scopare questa merda!” Sammy wouldn’t know what the hell we were talking about. It was funny.
I walk inside with Tatum on my tail, and head into the kitchen, opening the side cupboard to get out the car keys. I take the GMC keys, and we both walk out to the garage.
“You know...,” Tatum starts, as we both slip into our seats. “How was Bishop in bed?”
I laugh, firing the car up. “I don’t kiss and tell, Tate.”
“Ohh, sure you do.”
I shake my head and laugh, pulling out of the long driveway. “I really don’t.
Pulling up to the curb of Hampton Beach High, Tatum whispers, “I haven’t been here in a while.”
“It’s not that bad. I expected a little more on
