Madison was right in the middle of telling Avery about her night with Carson when her cell phone rang. She groaned when she saw whom it was, knowing exactly why they were calling.

“Hey Mom,” she greeted, forcing herself to be upbeat. “How’s work?”

“Your father said you left the house.”

“I did.” She shifted away from Avery, her neck turning to the side. “I asked permission and he said I could go.”

“You’re supposed to be grounded.”

“I realize that but—”

“There’s no ‘but’ here, Madison. You’re grounded. Period. End of story.”

“But Dad said I could—”

“Rules are rules. I’m very disappointed in you. I let you go to the dance and this is how you repay me?” A frustrated sigh came over the line. Madison imagined her shaking her head and rubbing her temples as she paced the precinct. “I thought we’d made some progress the other day but clearly you’re determined to rebel against everything I say.”

“That’s not true,” Madison insisted.

“Then what is this, if not some teenage rebellion? Explain it to me Madison, because from where I’m standing, it seems you always do the opposite of what I say or want.”

Her mother’s tone made her teeth grind together. “Not everything is about you. I didn’t leave the house today as some sort of petty temper tantrum. Carson and I are working on an article later this afternoon. And before you say anything, we made these plans way before I was grounded.”

“And why are you at Avery’s house?” she asked, accusation seeping into every word.

“I got up early this morning and finished all of my chores. I mowed the lawn. I vacuumed the house. I cleaned both bathrooms and I washed my car. When I was done, Dad said I could visit her, but only for an hour.”

Her explanation was met with stony silence. Madison drew her legs up and banged her forehead against her knee—repeatedly. Talking with her mom was so frustrating. It wasn’t as if she’d left the house without telling anyone. Her father approved the whole thing! But was that good enough for her mom?

Nooo.

She theorized what was rolling around in Madison’s brain and insisted she was right, regardless if Madison said otherwise. For once, she wished her mom would listen, really listen, to what she had to say. Madison’s voice, her feelings, her opinions, was always brushed aside. They never seemed to matter in the great scheme of things. So why she bothered now was beyond her.

“I’m sorry I left the house even though I was grounded,” she said in a flat tone. Giving her mother what she wanted seemed to be the easiest solution.

“I’m not the bad guy here, Madison. I don’t enjoy making these phone calls. And I certainly don’t appreciate you putting me in these types of situations.”

She had no response to that—at least none that were appropriate. Using the same even tone, she asked, “May I still meet up with Carson this afternoon so we can work on our article? Or should I cancel?”

It seemed like eternity before her mother answered. “Fine. You can go, but I want you back by dinnertime. And we’ll be discussing this further when I get home tonight.”

“Understood.”

After they said goodbye and hung up, Madison flopped onto the floor and spread her limbs out. Staring at the ceiling, she wondered if her mom would actually be home tonight.

“You’re meeting up with Carson?” Avery asked.

“In half an hour. We’re meeting at the school.” She wasn’t lying when she said they had already made plans. Carson wanted to visit a few of the FEC victims so he could interview them and take pictures. She was conflicted over the matter. Part of her was eager to see him again, the first time since the dance, but the other part was wary. Interviewing these people seemed like a bad idea. It could easily go south for Madison with no way out.

She spent a few more minutes with Avery before packing up her stuff and departing. Carson was waiting in the school parking lot when she arrived. He opened the door for her after she shut off the engine and unclipped her seat belt.

“You ready to go?” he asked, grabbing her things and heading to his car parked a few feet away. “I called Mrs. Kline and Mr. Duval. Both are willing to speak with us.”

“Great.” She hoped the enthusiasm she injected into her voice was believable. “I can’t wait to talk to them.”

 “Me too,” he said, grinning at her over the top of his car. “I have a feeling this article is going to turn out better than I imagined. I bet we’re going to find out some pretty interesting stuff today.”

“I hope not,” she muttered under her breath as they slid into the seats.

He pulled out of the lot and entered the freeway. His eyes flickered to her before he cleared his throat and said tentatively, “So, the dance was pretty fun right?”

“It was.”

“I mean we had a good time and everything. Um, you know, dancing…and stuff…”

She looked out the passenger window so he couldn’t see her amused grin. Curious to see where he was going with this, she stayed silent and let him ramble.

“I mean at least I had a good time. Did you have a good time? Because it seemed like you had a good time.”

She decided it was time to put the boy out of his misery. “I had a good time, Carson.”

“Oh. Good. Good.” He swallowed hard. He shifted in his seat and tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “So I was wondering if you have plans Wednesday night?”

She thought of the study group, but quickly dismissed it. They weren’t stealing any more so why meet? “No, I don’t plans. Why do you ask?”

“Well, we have another track meet and I was wondering if you would come. And afterwards, I thought I could take you out.”

“On a date?”

“Yes. On a date. I would like to take you out on a date, Maddy,” he repeated. Nervous tension rolled off of him, clotting the air.

She stared at him in amazement. Not because of his question, but because this self-assured, award winning writer, was so anxious he couldn’t talk straight. Didn’t he know she was crazy about him? It was pretty obvious considering how long they kissed in that dark corner at the dance. By the time they were done, her hair was in complete shambles and her lips were red and swollen.  

“I’d love to,” she answered truthfully.

He let out a pent up breath and grinned, a flash of white teeth against tan skin. “Had me worried there for a second.”

“You have no reason to be worried.”

He gave her a knowing look. “If I recall, you’ve turned down every offer to hang out since I met you, including going to Homecoming with me. I think I was well within my rights to have a bout of panic.”

“I see your point,” she conceded. Then a thought slammed into her. “Oh no,” she whispered, remembering her grounding. There was no way her mother would let her go. Especially since the outing wasn’t related to school or the newspaper.

Carson glanced over at her, concern etched on his face. “What? What is it?”

“I-I….” Her hands welled up into tight fists as she closed her eyes. Her face contorted, screwing up as if she was in pain. “I can’t go. I forgot that I’m grounded. I’m so sorry Carson.”

Disappointment clouded his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck and murmured to himself, “Thwarted again it seems. Every damn time.”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

He sent her a rueful smile. “It’s okay. Not your fault.”

It sort of was in way. After all, she was the one who behaved badly in order to get grounded. But she didn’t say that. Instead, she suggested, “How about next week? I’m not grounded then.”

He reached over the center console and grasped her hand. Bringing it to his lips, he said, “Next Wednesday you’re mine.” He kissed the back, then matted their fingers together and rested it on his lap.

Before she knew it, Mr. Duvall’s house loomed ahead of them. The two-story log cabin was situated near the top of the mountain, surrounded by trees and foliage. A porch ran along the whole house, giving the occupants a three hundred and sixty degree view.

Mr. Duvall, a gruff man with thinning gray hair, opened the door and invited them inside. Introductions were made along with a few pleasantries—mostly on Carson’s side, Mr. Duvall just grunted—before Carson got down to business.

“When did you notice the watch was missing?”

“The day after my wife’s birthday party. I went to put it on after my morning shower but it wasn’t on the dresser where I usually store it. I searched the whole house, even moving the bedroom furniture aside, but it was gone.”

“In your statement to police, you said it went missing on July 4th. How can you be so sure it wasn’t stolen before then?”

“Because I wear that watch every damn day, boy,” Mr. Duvall declared, his voice booming over the walls. “My son, Rick, gave it to me right before he deployed. I’ve been wearing it ever since.”

Madison noticed a row of picture frames displayed on the mantle. She picked one up and studied it. A young man dressed in a white Navy uniform proudly smiled for the camera. “Your son?” she asked, holding up the picture.

The harsh edges Mr. Duvall’s face smoothed as he stared at his son. “Yes. That’s Rick. He joined the Navy right after college.” His chest puffed out in pride. “He just got promoted to Chief Petty Officer.”

“How long has he been deployed?” she asked.

“A year,” he replied brusquely. He looked over Madison’s shoulder to where a calendar hung. Red X’s were marked over past days. “I’ve worn that watch every day since he left, counting down till he returns. That’s why I’m so angry it was stolen. It’s not just a watch; it’s a reminder of my son.”

Madison felt sick. She knew who did this. She asked the group when Carson first mentioned his name. Avery admitted to being here that night. Mr. Duvall was a business associate of her father’s. During the party, she slipped into his room and took the watch, hiding it in her purse. It was now locked up in the library, sitting with countless other stolen items.

She looked at the photo again. Avery hadn’t just stolen an object—she stole a memory. A precious memory that Mr. Duvall desperately wanted back. She thought of Avery’s secret chest brimming with items. How many memories were stored in there? How many people were begging for the chance to have them back?

Her conversation with Avery rushed back to her. She told her the stealing was all right, but it wasn’t. It was wrong. So horribly wrong. How could she condone Avery’s behavior? Hell, how could she condone her own?

Guilt pierced her conscious followed by the searing heat of shame. She thought she’d been so clever stealing from Mr. Perez. After all, it was only a medal. It wasn’t particularly valuable or expensive. Mentally, she berated herself. How arrogant of her. How utterly selfish. Someone worked hard for that medal and she took it without a backward glance. She wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out.

As Carson continued to ask questions, Madison sat quietly in the corner. Occasionally, she would speak or murmur a response, but for the most she just sat there and wondered. Wondered how the hell she was going to fix this mess. The wheels in her mind turned and turned, trying to form a plan, but nothing seemed right. In every scenario she came back to the same question.

Which was more important—doing the right thing or protecting her friends?