CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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MADISON

He has a black eye.

Even her mother's lips part in quiet confusion and shock beore she catches herself. Mother turns to Mrs Hawthorne, with a polite, confused look. 

"Eleanor," she says in that cool, polite voice of hers that always manages to sound condescending too. Madison would wonder in awe, at how her mother would accomplish such a feat so delicately, but now she can only stare at Nick, fight to keep her concern from overwhelming her, and feel utterly embarrassed for everyone. "Is your son... quite alright?"

Mrs Hawthorne lets out an embarrassed little laugh, as she quickly reels off a quick, bumbling apology and excuses herself, lifting herself from her seat. Mother's gaze follows her, narrowing in thought. Madison tears her gaze away from the way Nick's mother fusses over him and turns to her mother. She relishes the little amount of time they have together and smiles softly.

"Mother," she asks. "What exactly is this meeting about? Why are the Hawthornes here?"

"You told me he was your friend," Mother says, texting. "And, despite his appearance now, he's the only boy, that I don't absolutely abhor on sight, of course, that can also work with the height difference."

Madison is so surprised at her mother's response that she can barely summon a response. Before she can even try to give an answer, her phone lights up with a new text. Mother's gaze flickers over to it curiously as Madison looks over the text briefly, before letting out a huff.

How are you, Madison? How is school? Do you want to meet up for a cup of coffee? I hear all the cool kids these days like Starbucks. My treat?

Her heart tugs a little but Mother is eyeing her coolly.

"Is it that man again?" Mother asks, taut and careful.

Madison swallows down her panic quickly. "Mother, I –,"

"I told you to block him," Mother says, and her voice is utterly cold and devastating as she reaches for Madison's phone. She scrolls through the mass of texts that Madison has not been able to make herself delete, her scowl perching at the edge of her lips. "He's been texting you for how long? Desperate son of a bitch." Mother's lip curls in disgust. "I thought we had established this, Madison. Your father is a disease."

"Yes, I know, but Mother –,"

"Then why do you still have these?" Mother asks, before she deletes all of the texts carelessly, to Madison's horror.

Madison swallows quickly before she attempts to make a careless, cool voice, like her mother. "He's not going away, Mother," she says, trying to sound as flippant as she can. "What does he want? Why is he here?"

Mother lets out a huff. "Your father is in some government job now," she explains. "He's high up but he's a leech, so he still wants our money. That's not going to happen. He left us. He forfeited his right to come back when he left. Right, Madison?"

Mother's voice is utterly shattering and her gaze is unyielding as she stares down at Madison. Madison swallows thickly before nodding her head, something oily and uneasy slithering within her stomach. Her hands are trembling so she puts them in her lap, attempting to make it look as though she's simply straightening her pastel designer dress.

When Nick comes to the table, accompanied by his mother, who has exhausted her efforts to clean up his face as best as she can, she and Mother make a concentrated effort to avoid looking at his black eye and his bruised face. Nick doesn't offer them the same mannerly courtesy as he reaches across the table, puts his elbows on the table, and eats everything before him like a starved horse. Mother's eyebrows climb higher and higher as Mrs Hawthorne's cheeks flush an embarrassed red, and Madison wants to either die of humiliation or reach across to put her heel into his neck.

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