I know that a handwritten letter is more personal, but you KNOW how bad my handwriting is, and when you read this again 10 years from now, I want you to actually be able to read what I wrote. You may make me laugh more than anyone else I know, and I know you are smiling right now about me admitting that. I know how much you enjoy when I laugh at your jokes (even if they aren’t really all THAT funny). I will definitely miss your corny jokes and silly personality. And most of all, I will miss the amazing friend that you are to me. Brooke, if there is one person I know I can always count on for anything, it’s you. You are kindhearted, caring, compassionate, and trustworthy; all valuable characteristics of a friend that any girl would be lucky to have. When someone is upset or something goes wrong in any situation, you are always first to the rescue. Your selflessness is so admirable, but don’t forget it is necessary to put yourself first sometimes. We still have so much room to grow and mature but I am so happy to say that you have played a huge role in the person I have become today.
I will never forget all the crazy times we spent together starting in the third grade on the Americans. Ever since that young age, I knew I could count on you 100 percent, whether it be in the goal and on the field or just in everyday situations. When it comes to soccer, you are the most determined and team-oriented person. Without you on the field/in goal, we would not have had the same amazing success. You’ve grown so much as a player and I expect big things from you at Holy Cross. I cannot wait to come watch you and Claire play. Ever since you were little, you’ve always been fearless and courageous, and you’ve only become stronger and braver over the years. If you ever need someone to shoot on you, I’m still your girl I loved warming you up before every NHGS game. And who knew that those warm-ups would lead to 48 WINS IN A ROW!?!?!?!?! Together, we’ve created a legacy at Highlands, and we should be damn proud of it. You were the starting goalie for a 2 year undefeated state championship team. That is freaking awesome. I would also like to award you as the most frequent Netflix viewer to ever live—hahahaha I know that will piss you off. Also when you read this in 15 years I wonder if you’ll still be obsessed with your iPad… hahahahahaaa love you. Even though Madigan definitely doubted us at first, we exceeded her expectations and surprised everyone this season. There is no better feeling than playing and winning games with my absolute best friends. I know how much NHGS has always meant to you, and your obvious passion and love for the team quickly rubbed off on everyone else. It was contagious, and we can all attribute your passion as one of the reasons why we were so successful the past two seasons. I will never forget your absolutely amazing pasta parties. What food DIDN’T Sharon make?!? She is legitimately bomb. And I will miss little Nicholas and Bridget and Richie. I cannot wait to see what they’ll grow up to become when they are older. Tell Bridget she can go to any very smart school besides Harvard. Harvard sucks. And hopefully Richie can pull the Highlands Football team together… hahaha that’d be a miracle.
There is no one I’d rather spend gym class and health class with. How I met your mother??? Yes, you are obsessed. Can’t believe you watched every single episode every season. Hahaaaaha you really do crack me up. Silly Brookie.
I know friends tend to drift apart after high school, but I hope that never happens to us. IM TRYNA BE FRIENDS FOR LIFE OK!!!! That is, if we both survive college. I have confidence that we will… well, you will. I hope you know how much I care for you and that I will always be here for you no matter what. You already had an incredible high school career and you’ll only be more amazing in college.
Another reason Maddy’s friends weren’t concerned about her appearance over break: she had started losing weight before she left for Penn, so the change wasn’t drastic. It wasn’t as if Maddy had left for college looking one way and returned another; the progression seemed steadier, less easy to identify as a red flag.
During track season in her senior year, Maddy was particularly focused on her diet, because now she knew she would be running track in college. Running was a different beast than soccer, a spectacular balancing act. A runner is always attempting to control everything—time, energy, form, workouts, food intake, hydration—yet simultaneously conscious that she shouldn’t become controlled by any one variable. She is the agent. It’s as if each discipline is a necklace, and a runner must know when to put one on, when to take one off, when she can handle more than one, when she can’t. If runners lose this talent for calibration, they end up wearing all the necklaces at once, and they sink. In other words, the art of elite running is often about the negative space. It’s less about knowing when to run; more about knowing when not to.
At a track meet during senior year, a local photographer came up to the parents of one of Maddy’s friends and asked about Maddy. For years, this woman had snapped pictures of Madison at Northern Highlands meets. She had a daughter who had run in college and who struggled with an eating disorder. That day, as she followed Madison inside the small black circle of the lens, with all outside influences closed off, she noticed a difference in the young woman she had spent hours watching. “I cannot believe the change in Madison,” she said. “Crap—she got skinny.”
No evidence exists, besides conjecture, to suggest that Maddy had an eating disorder. But plenty exists to suggest that she was, even before she left for Penn, attempting to control the uncontrollable. She wanted to hold water.
CHAPTER 7
Snow Falling