Judge

Chapter 6

"She said WHAT!?" I'm a bit too loud. But I don't care.

"I'm not her date! I only came because I was worried about MADDIE!" I storm off. My footsteps shake the house until I managed to cool off.

Christine, the master of timing, decides to greet me then. Her face is painted with blue eyeshadow and too much... I don't know. That skin color stuff. But anyway. She rushes up to me with two red cups and a smile that looks as plastered on as her make-up. Short, with dark hair, she might have been pretty once. She wears a low-cut white shirt with a back that's open. Only strings cover the dark blue bra visible through them.

"Hey! I was wondering when you would get here! I've been looking for you!" Now I know why Andy accented the word you. Her voice matches his mocking tone perfectly. It's all I can do to keep from busting out laughing.

"So I've heard." But then I remember. She spread practically slanderous statements about me. My mirth dissipates instantly as the smile melts off my face.

"I didn't think you were asking me as a date, Christine." I frown.

"Oh, that. What's the harm? It's not like you have a girlfriend or something. you even went in a group to prom!"

"Junior prom." I'm at a loss for words.

"Christine, that's wrong! So wrong! I'm going to tell them that I'm not your date. If you want to hang out, that's fine, but not a date."

"OK. Just be quick." She looks downcast. I feel guilty immediately, but I really shouldn't. She causes me too much trouble.

I rejoin her after spreading the word. She brightens up.

"I thought you weren't coming back!" I wouldn't miss it for the world. I need her info about Maddie. I want to get some background before I find her. I reluctantly accept the cup of red liquid and give it a sniff. It smells like vodka mixed with pineapple juice and something else. Maybe cherry juice. I don't drink it.

"You were wrong!" I force a smile. "How did Maddie tell you about this party?"

"Sent me a really, really short, like, super short clipped off text. 'Party. My house. Invite ppl.' So I did. Great party, because of the great people I invited." Her voice softens. She turns towards me. I'm looking down, thinking about Maddie. Why would she do this? Have a party? It's not like her. Slowly, Christine draws closer. Unfortunately, I don't notice. All at once, she pushes me into the wall and kisses me.

I pull away in a flash and freak out.

"What the HELL was THAT? I said it's not a date! I don't like you like that!" She shrinks back from the bark of my voice.

"Sorry!" She leaves in a hurry, but there's no mistaking the spring in her step. I glare in her direction as she flounces off.

God, that's a pain in the ass. My opinion of her just plummeted from dislike to hatred. I take a minute to compose myself, then walk upstairs.

If there's a shred of the Maddie I remember alive, I know where to find her. Her favorite spot. She's described it so many times that it's easy to find.

Her bedroom is covered with art. Drawings, done mostly in pencil. Posters of her Art Fair-winning drawing of the seashore and the runner-up, a drawing of my grinning face, stubble included. I had forgotten to shave that morning. I remember I had to pose for hours. It was so hard not to move. I kept cracking jokes about being a supermodel, so she had to scrap the serious pose and drew me smiling, red-faced, and haggard. The detail on both won her the distinction of Art Fair champion three years running.

But the room itself is not her spot. I look around and find a white door leading into a walk-in closet. The closet features an open window and a forlorn Maddie sitting on the roof outside with a red cup, looking at the moon.

I clamber through the window. It's a tight fit. My shirt catches on the brick outline. Maddie wears a white and blue half-sleeve baseball shirt with jean shorts (that actually fit her) and flip-flops. Probably to cover the mark. I try to tread softly. It doesn't work. My footsteps make a loud scritch-scratch sound on the roof. I bet even without turning around, Maddie knows it's me.

"Man, you're clumsy, Ari. You always were." Her voice shakes.

"Is it okay if I come sit down?"

"Sure. Do whatever." She rests her head on the top of her knees. She looks so vulnerable curled up like that. I walk across the sea of tar-paper shingles and sit down slowly, about six inches to her right. I decide to just sit in silence for a while. After about thirty seconds, I crack.

"I can see why you love this. I like my roof, but wow." I watch her closely for a reaction. She slides her forehead to the top of her knees, curling up even further.

"Yeah." The cracking of her voice on even just one syllable is too unbearable.

"Maddie, wha-"

"I should tell you." I'm mystified. Then I smell the alcohol on her breath. I don't know what to do with a drunk Maddie. It's never happened before.

"Ari, I...That guy...Secretary Dillman." She swings her head slowly and says his name in a childish pantomime. "He killed my mom." Maddie's mother had been a lieutenant fighting in Iraq. She was tall and beautiful, with red hair and a tough yet kind demeanor. She was also a brilliant engineer. She fell in love with her ensign, a weathered, blonde loafer turned soldier. They were married. Maddie was the only child. Then, two years ago, her mother was recalled to go to Pakistan on the U.S.S.Fogg II. Lieutenant Julia Rhodes was declared killed in action on July 30th, 2014. All I knew was that the circumstances surrounding her death were hazy.

"What?!" I'm completely dumbfounded.

"A friend of ours was watching the whole thing. He said they were arguing, and then she got in a patrol boat with two guys and headed for shore. Then the Secretary (another head swing and singsong voice) grabbed his lapel and spoke into it. Two snipers opened fire from the boat. They...killed her and the two privates. Then the ship was ordered to leave. The patrol boat was left there. It sank with her bo-." She starts crying outright as she struggles to say the word. I put my arms around her.

"Then,-" She sobs again, breathing hard.

"Then, our friend...He...got shot the next d-" She swallows and resumes crying.

"Alright, that's enough of that." I murmur as I take the cup from her limp, unresisting hand. It's pure acrid vodka.

"I'm so, so sorry, Maddie." I hurt for her. Mrs. Rhodes had always been friendly to me. She wore her hair back in a simple ponytail. She would sit us down and give us plates of cookies and milk as children. She would say, "Eat up. Do you think you can do that?" with a caring smile and a warm voice. Like any mother and daughter, she and Maddie were extremely close. At the funeral, I steadied my best friend as tears poured down both of our faces. The worst came when the flag was handed to Maddie's father. She almost collapsed.

"God, I had no idea."

"Ari...I..." She breaks off, still sobbing onto my shoulder.

"I know."

I hold her until she falls asleep from the alcohol.