Chapter Seven Maddie #2
When I graduated college and took the LSAT at Gentry’s urging, I got into every law school I applied to but didn’t receive a single scholarship.
The tuition fees were astronomical. So I took out loans, because Gentry had made it very clear that his future wife needed a JD.
It was the formula for creating a political power couple.
I told myself that it wasn’t just for Gentry.
I really had been interested in going to law school.
But left to my own devices, I probably would have chosen one with a cheaper price tag than USC.
Then Gentry told me he was positive his parents would foot the bill for my law degree after we were married.
It was all part of the five-year plan. Graduate law school the same month Gentry wins his first primary.
He wins against his opponent in November.
He proposes at his victory party and we head to the state assembly as soon-to-be newlyweds. Goodbye, loans. Hello, perfect life.
And then three days before my first day of second year, I came home early from staying with my mom. Gentry was already at work, but there was a bra on the floor of the bathroom. One with a too small band and cups way too large to ever fit me.
He swore it was just the one time. That he was drunk. That he only did it because he missed me. He promised it would never happen again and I let myself believe him. Through the rest of law school. Until the minute Penelope Pike broke up with me on his behalf.
Sure, he might have been telling the truth about it only being the one time, but what did it matter in the end? Which was why I showed up here yesterday with an attitude the size of the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals.
While the muffins are in the oven, I go over sight words with Letty and Berry, and I quickly discover that Berry is unexpectedly competitive. (The quiet ones always surprise you.)
In fact, I’m sure my sweet librarian friend, Junie, has some secrets of her own if I could just get a few drinks in her.
Too bad I hadn’t met her at the bar my first night in town instead of Bram.
I’ve only hooked up with one other woman, but I do like them quiet and mousy.
So if she weren’t my sort-of friend, she’d be just my type.
And that would have been way less complicated than whatever the fuck is happening with me and Bram.
No, whatever is not happening. Because yesterday was a onetime slipup. Really, it was just half a slipup. It’s not like either of us came. In the moment, at least.
The scent of fresh-baked muffins lures Fern from her room, and the storm cloud hanging over her when I found her on the sidewalk has returned.
While the little ones take their snack plates and settle down for some predinner screen time, I pat the barstool at the island and pull up the plate of muffins.
With a truly impressive sigh, Fern joins me. There’s nothing more cathartic than the heavy sigh of a teenage girl.
“Okay,” I tell her. “Here’s how this is gonna go. I feed you muffins. You feed me gossip. I am very hungry.”
She rubs her hands over her eyes to reveal a pained expression.
And then I realize that—oh shit—I am the adult here, so I start my line of responsible-adult questioning. “Okay, wait. Are you in danger?”
She shakes her head.
“Does this involve anything illegal?”
She smirks. “You have no idea how boring I am.”
“Boring can be good,” I tell her. “And since there’s nothing putting you in a compromising position that would require me to narc on you to your father, consider this discussion covered by attorney-client privilege.”
“It’s my ex,” she blurts.
“I am genuinely triggered by those three words, but please continue.”
A smile twitches on her lips before she takes a huge bite of muffin and talks through a mouthful, which is really the elite way to unload about an ex.
“We dated through eighth, ninth, and tenth grade,” she says.
“Wow, that’s like—”
“A long time, I know. Last year, at my family birthday dinner, my dad’s friend Sloane, who is basically my aunt, told my ex—to his face!—that he was robbing me of my youth.”
“Boss bitch move,” I tell her. “I want an Auntie Sloane. Okay, so what’s this little shitstain’s name?”
“Simon. So he’s been class president every year since seventh grade. And I’ve always run as secretary . . . which is—”
“A grunt work job.”
“Exactly. But I like it. I like to keep track of the minutes and make sure we stay on task. I’m sort of anxious about details, so it’s worked for me. Especially since Simon was more . . . the personality, ya know?”
I nod slowly. “He was charismatic, so I’m guessing you were constantly cleaning up his messes.”
“Yes! And figuring out how to deliver on these impossible promises he would make.”
“Did you see him at your student-government interest meeting today?”
“I did. Samira, who was elected last May to be the student body president this year, transferred to a boarding school in upstate New York unexpectedly. So now there’s going to be a special election to fill her role and Simon decided that he wants to step down as eleventh-grade class president to run for student body president.
And he’s totally going to win and it makes me want to scoop my eyeballs out of my skull. ”
I tear a muffin in half and eat a small piece, like I’d learned to in the etiquette class I took last summer. (At Gentry’s mother’s suggestion.) “Well, we can’t have any kind of eyeball scooping.”
“He’s already soft launching his campaign and taking credit for all kinds of stuff that I did over the last two years.
Gender-neutral bathroom initiative in eighth grade?
That was me. Organizing other students to go speak at school council meetings about lunch debt?
Fighting against book bans? All me! He doesn’t even care about half of that shit! ” Her eyes cut to me. “Sorry.”
I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “As long as you don’t have the twins running around screaming shit over and over again, I don’t care.”
She laughs. “Trust me, they hear plenty of cursing from my uncle Leo* and uncle Joey.”*
“Oh, I met Leo,” I tell her as I recall the unnecessarily handsome and pompous piece of work who had followed Bram into my classroom. I resist the urge to say her uncle Leo strikes me as a fuckboy. Fuckman? Whatever. “Back to Simon. You have to run against him. It’s the only way he’ll learn.”
Her jaw drops and then after a moment of shock, she’s shaking her head. “No. No way. Maddie, I get that you’ve only known me for a couple weeks, but that’s legitimately the last thing that I would ever do. Or would ever want to do!”
“But don’t you get it, Fern? That’s exactly why you should run. No one will see it coming.”
“But what happens if I actually win? Unlikely, I know, but then I’d be stuck with a job I don’t even want.”
“It might not be the job you want, but it’s one you’re already doing from what I can tell, so why not at least take the official credit so you can add it to your college applications.
And you know what, Fern? Simon sounds like a politician, and just because you’re a good politician doesn’t mean you’re cut out for leadership.
Sometimes the people who are the least interested in being in charge make the best leaders. ”
She thinks for a minute and bites down on her lower lip. “It would really, really piss him off.”
“Just ignore me if this is too personal, but why did you two end it?”
Fern’s shoulders sink. “He dumped me just after spring break last year. He called it a break and said he needed to focus on himself.”
“I hate when people give you those little sound-bite excuses. What does that even mean?” I don’t know that it’s wise to trauma-dump on Fern, but I wish I could explain to her just how much I truly do understand what she’s going through.
It is also possibly true that I want her to enact the kind of revenge on Simon that I wish I’d been savvy enough to do myself with Gentry.
“Right? Well, apparently, focusing on himself meant hooking up with the class VP and then boning his way through the statewide student government summit back in July.”
“What a bastard,” I whisper so the twins can’t hear me.
Fern leans in and I can practically see the gossip endorphins hitting her system. “Our whole relationship was all about him to begin with. He was already completely focused on himself, because I can tell you that he certainly wasn’t focused on me.”
“Okay, listen. If I were a different person, I would tell you that you should keep your head down and dedicate yourself to things that will bring you joy. They go low, we go high, et cetera, et cetera. But sometimes when people are rats, you have to play dirty, and what better revenge than to take the thing this jackass wants most?” It is without a doubt the thing I would have done pre-Gentry, and a small part of me wants this just as much for me as I do for her.
Maybe her victory over this shit bag will chip away at the last four years of my wasted youth.
She chews nervously on the skin around her thumb. I resist the urge to pull her hand away from her mouth, because that is exactly what Penelope would do. Actually, she would bat my hand away like I’d been a bad dog, but still.
Fern shakes her head and I think I’ve lost her, but then she shuts her eyes and sucks in a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”
I squeeze both her hands and squeal with excitement. “I’m going to plan the shit out of this campaign with you,” I promise her. “Not only will Simon be sorry he ever let you go, but he will never forget the day he crossed Fern Loe for the last time.”
She shivers. “Wow. You make me sound way sexier than I am.”
I cringe a little. “Let’s go for badass over sexy.”
“Both things I’ve never been,” she confirms.
The door to the tiny mudroom off the kitchen whines as Bram walks in. He makes every door he walks through look like it’s the size of a doggy door.
It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since yesterday and his nostrils flare for a moment, his gaze trailing from my neck down to the V of my blouse.
“Daddy!” Letty cries as she flings herself against his legs and Berry quickly follows.
“Hey, I left a little early today,” he says, returning to the doting father I know him to be.
Fern pops up from her stool with a look of fierce determination. “I need a ride to the craft store,” she announces. “I need posters for my campaign. I’m running for student body president.”
“Okay,” Bram says, and then looks down at the twins. “All crafty hands on deck. We’ve got a campaign to win. But no loose glitter, okay?”
“Sure! Whatever.” Fern is already sprinting up the stairs, listing off everything she needs.
Bram glances back up at me, a pleased curiosity dancing at his lips. “You have something to do with this?”
I quirk my brow and lean back against the kitchen island. “You could say I’m a political visionary. And her ex-boyfriend sounds like a total shi—”
The twins preemptively giggle at me.
“A shih tzu,” I finish. “A very high-maintenance dog.”
“A real dog,” Bram agrees. Thank you, he mouths, and then, good girl.
My cheeks instantly warm and I give him a short nod. I like being his good girl. I like it far too much.