6. Maddison

Maddison

I t’s been an hour, and the envelope Bethany gave me is currently sitting on my bed, unopened. I’ve been distracting myself by calling up friends of my mother’s and a few bar owners to see if they’ve seen her. Every answer is the same.

“Sorry, Mads, but I haven’t seen her,” the owner of a bar my mother frequently hangs out at tells me. “Have you tried Larry’s bar? She’s been going there lately.”

I pace the living room. “Yeah, I tried there already, and no one’s seen her.”

“I’m sure she’ll show up eventually,” he assures me. “She always does.”

He’s right, but she also stole almost two thousand dollars from me, and that’s more money than she’s ever had in her life. She could be doing all sorts of crazy things. Hell, she could’ve left the city.

“But if I do see her,” he says, “I’ll have her call you.”

“Thanks.” I hang up and slump into the lumpy sofa, weighed down by defeat.

To distract myself, I call up the police department to see if I can persuade the receptionist to divulge who paid my bail because it’s been driving me absolutely insane.

“I’m sorry, hon,” she tells me. “I can’t give out that information since the person who paid for it wants to remain anonymous.”

I blow out a frustrated exhale. “Fine, but can you at least tell me when my court date is?”

Click. Click. Click. I hear her typing on the keyboard.

“Sorry, it’s not in the system yet,” she replies. “But you can try to call back in a few days. Our systems are slow here.”

“Okay, thanks.” I hang up and rake my fingers through my hair.

Why would anyone do this for me? Who would do this for me?

I think about the lady who showed up on my doorstep, wondering if the two could be connected. I could open the envelope, but I’m still hesitant. Instead, I check my emails, but that only leaves me in more of a downer mood due to the email I receive from Royal City Community College.

Dear Maddison Averly,

It has been brought to our attention that you’re currently on probation and, unfortunately, we can no longer award you with the high achievement scholarship. We’re a school that prides itself on bringing in outstanding students who excel both in school, in athletics, and their personal lives. You will still be able to attend as a regular student. However, you will have to pay the tuition fees by Aug. 15 th or you will be dropped from the classes you’re currently enrolled in …

I drop my phone as shock whips through me. They took my scholarship away? Are they kidding me? I can’t afford to pay for class. And it’s bullshit because I know people who have been on probation who have gotten scholarships there.

Everything I worked so hard for is crumbling into a pile of dirt right in front of me, like the layer of dust coating the shaggy orange carpet. Well, maybe it’s not crumbling. Perhaps I’m being shoved in a different direction.

Getting up, I go to my room, pick up the envelope, and tear it open. Inside is a piece of paper trimmed with inky gold and shimmering glitter.

Dear Maddison Averly,

We are pleased to accept you into the Royal Academy, where our goal is to give you the best education possible. We’re ranked as the best college in the entire country. Upon accepting this invitation, you will be given an advisor to guide you through the next four years until graduation.

I stare at the letter for a while, wishing I had someone to talk to about this. When I was younger, I used to talk to my aunt Ellie about my problems. Before she moved out of the country, she’d stop by and visit at least once every two months. Her visits were something I looked forward to because she’d bring me food and sometimes even a present, like the necklace she gave me. It’s a crown-shaped pendant with a black diamond embedded into it. It’s old and scratched up, but I still love it.

“Where did you get this?” I’d asked because it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.

“I’ve had it for a while,” she replied. “But I don’t wear it anymore, so I thought you’d like it.”

I was beyond excited as I fumbled to get it on. “Thank you, Aunt Ellie.”

“One day, I’m going to get you out of here, Maddy,” she said as she helped me clasp it.

“How?” I wondered, wishing she could do it but feeling hopeless that something that wonderful could ever happen.

“I’m not sure yet,” she told me. “But I promise you I will.”

I haven’t heard from her in about a year, and the last time she checked in, the conversation was short. She sounded nervous, telling me that she might be canceling her phone service, and she’d let me know if she did. Being uneasy wasn’t completely uncommon for her, and I often wondered—still do—if she did something illegal for work since she was always so vague about her employment.

I’ve tried to call her a few times, but the number has been disconnected. I attempted to get her new number from my mother, but it was clear she had no clue her sister had changed her number.

Still, feeling desperate, I dial the last number I know belonged to her.

“ I’m sorry, but this number has been disconnected ,” the recording tells me with a beep .

Gritting my teeth, I hang up the phone. If I could get a hold of my aunt, I know what she’d say.

“Take it, Mads,” she’d tell me. “Because opportunities like this are a rarity in this world.”

Before I can chicken out, I pick up the law firm card and dial Bethany’s number.

“Hello, Bethany Mapleton, how may I help you?” she answers.

I summon a deep breath, knowing what I’m about to do will change the course of my life forever. “Hi, this is Maddison, and I’d like to accept the offer.”

It should feel fantastic, and yet, even after all my research, doubt plagues my mind that this is too good to be true.

But I have no other choice except to hope it’s just that.