Madison wanted the help. Mostly. Her worst thoughts were encouraging her to reject help, to keep the feelings to herself. The creature seemed to want to convince her that she needed to find a solution on her own, that she was becoming burdensome to those around her, to her family.
Mackenzie was a junior at Highlands; Brendan was a freshman. Just as, one year earlier, Madison could not comprehend why Ashley was unhappy at Penn State, Mackenzie could not fathom why Maddy was so miserable at Penn. Wasn’t college all Madison had talked about? When they were growing up, every time she yelled at Mack for borrowing one of her tops or a pair of her jeans, Maddy would talk about how she would soon be out of the house, off to somewhere much more exciting and interesting, where she wouldn’t have to deal with such an annoying little sister.
As much as it seemed from the outside that they were always fighting, that was only because they were so much alike. Beneath the fa?ade of feuding sisters, they had laid the groundwork for a great friendship. Before Maddy left for Penn, she wrote Mackenzie a letter:
Mackenzie
I am so thankful to call you my sister. You are gorgeous (yes I admit it), talented, mature (for the most part), responsible, modest, and so fun to be around. I know these aren’t things you hear from me often but they are the honest truth. And I know I yell at you a lot but most of the time I don’t mean to, it’s just what I’m used to… so I’m sorry for that. Can’t believe you’re 16 years old and I also cannot believe we won’t be living together anymore in just over a month. The thought of not being under the same roof as each other is actually scary to me. Not going to lie, I’m already a tad bit nervous. You better be prepared to visit me frequently because as much as I hate to admit it, I will miss you a lot. I’m proud of the person you have become and how much you’ve matured over the years. The amount that you’ve changed just since you started out at Highlands is insane… Remember to always keep your head up no matter how many times people try to put you down. “You’re braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” There’s a lot I will miss about you when I go off to college. I will miss singing (belting out) country songs together. I will miss watching the Voice together and having you yell at me every time I speak. I will miss making fun of Jimbo together. I will miss our trips to Starbucks every Monday and Friday before school. I will miss trying to break into Ashley’s closet to steal her clothes. I will miss your annoying and infectious laugh. But I can’t wait to come back home and hear about all of the latest Highlands gossip. Maybe when I come home you will actually have a BOYFRIEND. That’d be cray now wouldn’t it ;). I know you are only halfway done with high school but I’m telling you, embrace every second of it because it’s over in the blink of an eye. Stay focused throughout Junior year in regards to schoolwork, tennis and track but live it up as well. Don’t party as hard as I did (do?) but it’s ok to go a lil crazy at times. Even though I’ll be in Philly and away at college, I’ll always be here for you. LOVE YOU YA CRAZY SKANK RASCAL HOE MUNCHKIN.
Love, ur fav, obviously… Madison.
A week before unexpectedly taking the train home, Maddy had texted with her younger sister, seemingly trying to connect, to share her pain. But Mackenzie couldn’t quite grasp how college—that place of adulthood, freedom, dreams—could be making her sister unhappy. Like many such connection failures, this was actually a failure of imagination. Mackenzie and others pictured college in one way; Madison experienced it in another.
Mack: How is it
Maddy: How is what
Mack: Penn
Maddy: It sucks Mackenzie
Maddy: It sucks so much
Mack: What are you doing rn
Maddy: Going to dinner
Mack: With who
Maddy: My friend Eleanor. I can’t do this anymore
Maddy: I hate this place
Mack: Why r u so miserable
Maddy: It’s everything especially track
Maddy: I hate it so much
Mack: Do u have fun at party’s
Maddy: Not really
Mack: Do u get with people
Maddy: Not rlly
Madison had to return to Philly for a few days to finish finals and to complete first semester. Jim and Stacy reassured her that her time in Philly was temporary, and that she would be back home the following week, with an entire month to figure out what was happening. All she needed to do was manage for a few days, and then she could come right back to Allendale. “In high school, everything that could go right for Madison, did,” says Mackenzie. “High school wasn’t a struggle for her, so it was hard to understand how college had so quickly gone bad. With track, she got to be the best because of how hard she worked. She got a 4.0 in school because she studied so much. And she was even partying less in college. I wanted to visit her, and she said that she only goes out one night a week in college. I was surprised. She started going out less, started doing everything less.”
All Alone
The first night I started writing this book, I spent ten hours in front of Madison’s computer. I had driven the hour from Brooklyn to Allendale that afternoon, to the Hollerans’ home, where Ashley was waiting for me, MacBook in hand. Madison’s computer was Brendan’s now, but her account had been preserved and was just a few keystrokes away. Thankfully, Brendan was willing to part with the device for the weekend.
On the TV that night was Thursday Night Football: Denver vs. Kansas City. I remember glancing at the New York City skyline and feeling a burst of gratitude, a frequent emotion of mine, that I lived in such a dynamic place. At another point, I remember reaching over to rest my hand on the leg of my girlfriend. Other than these two brief moments, I lived inside a screen. Time passed imperceptibly, the way it does when you zone out while driving, the miles rolling along, and then the gas light dings and you can’t remember having covered a long stretch of road.
On Madison’s computer I looked through photographs. I accessed (with the help of her family) her Gmail and University of Pennsylvania accounts, scrolling back through years of messages. As I carefully looked through everything, the blue iMessage icon containing all Madison’s text messages loomed on the dashboard. The icon seemed to radiate energy. I was saving it for last. Or maybe I was avoiding it—scared of what clues it might or might not contain.