[2022 Wattys Winner] When love cynic Madison Watson starts university, she vows to follow three simple rules.
One: Work out at least twice a week.
Two: Get an internship.
Three: Stay away from men.
But after a chance encounter with th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"What did you just say?" someone asked.
Me.
Our little huddle of people stilled on the lawn. The ducks were long gone, the breeze suddenly cool on my skin.
I lifted my chin, my eyes narrowed at Joanna. Red. All I saw was that murderous, bruising shade of red.
I cocked my head. "Say it again."
Noah put a hand on my arm, his expression tense. "It's fine, Madison. Joanna's just joking."
It wasn't. And she wasn't.
"Say it again," I challenged. "Louder."
Joanna just blinked. I thought she might have swallowed. Thought her smile might have faltered. But she didn't do as I said. Didn't acknowledge that I'd spoken up at all.
Her condescending brown gaze zeroed in on me, scanning my outfit from head to toe—like she could sense the plated glamor of my jewelry.
"Come on, Madeline." She tilted her head, the gesture utterly serpentine. "Please tell us we're not alone here. What did you write about for your personal essay?"
As if they were her clones, Joanna's friends took a sip of champagne at the same time their master did, shooting me twin glares that glistened with condescension. It was almost enough. Almost unnerving.
But I, Madison Jane Watson, wasn't about to be unnerved by a trio of pretentious, overdressed rich kids who didn't even bother to learn my name.
"My dad," I started, raising my chin a fraction. "I said that he left my mother, sister, and I for another woman two years ago. No warning, no notice. Just up and left one morning."
"Ah." One of Joanna's minions chuckled, sharing a knowing glance with the other two girls. "The classic parent-cheating-on-parent story. I almost went with that one."
I nodded slowly, biting my lip before deciding to continue. "I said that we should've seen it coming. That he'd been unusually moody and reclusive for weeks. That he'd put all of his assets on trust. I said that my mother hired a private investigator, because she couldn't accept the idea of dad leaving her for another woman. They were just so happy, so in love." I ran a finger along the rim of my drink, peering at the reflection of my vapid expression in the golden liquid.
"I said that she was right." My throat tried to close up, but I pressed on. "That the P.I. discovered that my dad was diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer one month before he left. And it was only three weeks later that he died." I paused, sipping my drink, the cool liquid soothing my dry throat. "I guess he thought that driving us to hate him was kinder than letting us mourn him."
A long-repressed aching resurfaced in my heart. I forced it back with another mouthful of champagne.
