A Little Deleted Scene of Madison's Childhood
Below is a scene I wrote for the first draft of Band of Scars...back when the novel spanned four years and included a long (probably way too long) chapter on the childhood's of the bandmates. Anyway, below is the raw, unedited scene of Madison's childhood. Hope you like it!
“Ma, I got the milk!” Makayla called as she walked in the door to the small, two-bedroom ranch that she shared with her mother and younger sister, Madison, on the south side of Kingstown, Damore. Their neighborhood was one of the more impoverished areas of Kingstown, filled with run-down houses, gas stations with bars on the windows, and rusted-out cars that had seen better days.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Gina said before kissing her eldest daughter’s sun-kissed forehead. She turned to her youngest daughter, Madison, and said, “Come over here. You have to learn to cook eventually.”
“Why?” Madison asked, sounding more like a whiny five year old than an eleven year old headed to middle school in just a couple of days. She had little desire to learn to cook when she could be writing another song. Cooking, or really any hobby relating to the house, never interested Madison. Quiet and introverted, she focused her energy on the arts: writing music, singing, playing instruments, songwriting, choreography, and dance. Her affinity to the arts was how she got a scholarship at Palm Beach Academy when she was in kindergarten.
Palm Beach Academy was a prestigious school for students of the arts. The tuition was steep—far more than Gina could ever afford—but the full-ride scholarship, academic rigor, and strong focus on the arts made Palm Beach Academy the perfect school for Madison. It was on the beach on the north side of Kingstown, surrounded by mansions of the wealthy elite of Kingstown, homes of students who grew up with silver spoons and trust funds. People who, Madison believed, would never understand her lifestyle and childhood. Her fellow students drove to school in luxury cars—Teslas, Maseratis, Ferraris—while Madison biked to the nearest subway station, took two subways, then a bus, and biked another three blocks to get to school.
“Because I may not have much to offer you or your sister, but I can cook like nobody’s business. It’s the one gift I can give you: teaching you to cook,” Gina answered with a smile.
Makayla shot Madison a warning glance, begging her to keep silent and accept Gina’s cooking lesson. For eleven years it had been just the three of them; their dad walked out when Madison was born and Makayla was just three years old, but the girls didn’t know any different. As far as they’re concerned, Gina was their mom and their dad, and she’s doing the best she could.
“As long as you teach us to make your famous chili?” Makayla chimed in with a winning smile. At just fourteen years old Makayla had been forced to step up as a surrogate parent to Madison—filling in when Gina worked late, helping with the cooking, cleaning, and Madison’s homework.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gina said. “Now, Madison, come help.”
“Fine,” Madison grumbled, laying her guitar aside and crossing their tiny family room to a kitchen that would be better suited as a closet.
“Stir this for me, please,” Gina commanded, handing Madison a wooden spoon and stepping aside from the stove. Carefully, Madison took the spoon from her mother and stared into the pot of chili, hating to cook but loving the smell emanating from the pot. Gina kissed her musical daughter’s forehead then turned to take a wine glass from the cabinet.
“So, Ma, tomorrow is War of All Wars Remembrance Day,” Makayla said. “Felicia and her family are going down to the boardwalk to watch the parade and listen to the king of Damore speak. She asked if I wanted to go with her. May I?”
Gina studied her daughter, soon to be a freshman in high school. The War of All Wars Remembrance Day was so important to Damore—more important to Damore than any other province on their small, island nation of Plyno. She should let her go. After all, six generations ago—when the War was fought—it was three teenaged girls who helped to put a stop to the slaughter. The War of All Wars was a massive interspecies battle fought throughout all of Plyno, but the bloodiest battle was in Damore—their home province. The battle was fought just outside of the residence of the royal family of Damore in the city of Orcho. The country was still healing from the wounds of that war, trying their best to give every Supernatural equal rights and opportunities.
“Please, Ma,” Makayla begged, green eyes pleading with Gina.
“On one condition,” Ma prefaced, stung by Makayla’s look, so similar to their father’s.
“Anything. I’ll do anything!”
“Tell me the cause of the War of All Wars and depending on your answer, I’ll let you go,” Ma smiled.
“Easy,” Makayla boasted. “Supernatural species, such as giants, firestarters, werewolves, shapshifters, and mermaids believed they were being mistreated and taken advantage of by humans and mages. All supernaturals were forced to pick sides. Eventually the tensions grew too strong and battles erupted throughout the thirteen independently ruled provinces, except the City of Origins because it is the sacred city of the true monarchs who govern all of Plyno, and the wall around the city kept the battles from brewing inside. The Chosen Three—Queen Eleana of Damore, Queen Aerin of Origins, and Lady Alexandria of Zar—stepped in and eased the tensions enough to have a conversation.”
“Good!” Ma beamed at Makayla.
“So if there was a conversation then why are some species still not given the same rights as others?” Madison asked, briefly she laid down the spoon to pull her deep brown nearly black curls into a ponytail. “Because Ryan complains all the time that as a werewolf he’ll never have the same respect I have in society.”
“Not sure,” Makayla shrugged before meeting Madison’s confused green eyes. “Maybe one day everyone will be equal, but not yet.”
“Poor Ryan.”
“I guess. So Ma, was that a good enough answer? Can I go?”
“You can go!”
“Yes!” Makayla whooped.
“Ma, I got the milk!” Makayla called as she walked in the door to the small, two-bedroom ranch that she shared with her mother and younger sister, Madison, on the south side of Kingstown, Damore. Their neighborhood was one of the more impoverished areas of Kingstown, filled with run-down houses, gas stations with bars on the windows, and rusted-out cars that had seen better days.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Gina said before kissing her eldest daughter’s sun-kissed forehead. She turned to her youngest daughter, Madison, and said, “Come over here. You have to learn to cook eventually.”
“Why?” Madison asked, sounding more like a whiny five year old than an eleven year old headed to middle school in just a couple of days. She had little desire to learn to cook when she could be writing another song. Cooking, or really any hobby relating to the house, never interested Madison. Quiet and introverted, she focused her energy on the arts: writing music, singing, playing instruments, songwriting, choreography, and dance. Her affinity to the arts was how she got a scholarship at Palm Beach Academy when she was in kindergarten.
Palm Beach Academy was a prestigious school for students of the arts. The tuition was steep—far more than Gina could ever afford—but the full-ride scholarship, academic rigor, and strong focus on the arts made Palm Beach Academy the perfect school for Madison. It was on the beach on the north side of Kingstown, surrounded by mansions of the wealthy elite of Kingstown, homes of students who grew up with silver spoons and trust funds. People who, Madison believed, would never understand her lifestyle and childhood. Her fellow students drove to school in luxury cars—Teslas, Maseratis, Ferraris—while Madison biked to the nearest subway station, took two subways, then a bus, and biked another three blocks to get to school.
“Because I may not have much to offer you or your sister, but I can cook like nobody’s business. It’s the one gift I can give you: teaching you to cook,” Gina answered with a smile.
Makayla shot Madison a warning glance, begging her to keep silent and accept Gina’s cooking lesson. For eleven years it had been just the three of them; their dad walked out when Madison was born and Makayla was just three years old, but the girls didn’t know any different. As far as they’re concerned, Gina was their mom and their dad, and she’s doing the best she could.
“As long as you teach us to make your famous chili?” Makayla chimed in with a winning smile. At just fourteen years old Makayla had been forced to step up as a surrogate parent to Madison—filling in when Gina worked late, helping with the cooking, cleaning, and Madison’s homework.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gina said. “Now, Madison, come help.”
“Fine,” Madison grumbled, laying her guitar aside and crossing their tiny family room to a kitchen that would be better suited as a closet.
“Stir this for me, please,” Gina commanded, handing Madison a wooden spoon and stepping aside from the stove. Carefully, Madison took the spoon from her mother and stared into the pot of chili, hating to cook but loving the smell emanating from the pot. Gina kissed her musical daughter’s forehead then turned to take a wine glass from the cabinet.
“So, Ma, tomorrow is War of All Wars Remembrance Day,” Makayla said. “Felicia and her family are going down to the boardwalk to watch the parade and listen to the king of Damore speak. She asked if I wanted to go with her. May I?”
Gina studied her daughter, soon to be a freshman in high school. The War of All Wars Remembrance Day was so important to Damore—more important to Damore than any other province on their small, island nation of Plyno. She should let her go. After all, six generations ago—when the War was fought—it was three teenaged girls who helped to put a stop to the slaughter. The War of All Wars was a massive interspecies battle fought throughout all of Plyno, but the bloodiest battle was in Damore—their home province. The battle was fought just outside of the residence of the royal family of Damore in the city of Orcho. The country was still healing from the wounds of that war, trying their best to give every Supernatural equal rights and opportunities.
“Please, Ma,” Makayla begged, green eyes pleading with Gina.
“On one condition,” Ma prefaced, stung by Makayla’s look, so similar to their father’s.
“Anything. I’ll do anything!”
“Tell me the cause of the War of All Wars and depending on your answer, I’ll let you go,” Ma smiled.
“Easy,” Makayla boasted. “Supernatural species, such as giants, firestarters, werewolves, shapshifters, and mermaids believed they were being mistreated and taken advantage of by humans and mages. All supernaturals were forced to pick sides. Eventually the tensions grew too strong and battles erupted throughout the thirteen independently ruled provinces, except the City of Origins because it is the sacred city of the true monarchs who govern all of Plyno, and the wall around the city kept the battles from brewing inside. The Chosen Three—Queen Eleana of Damore, Queen Aerin of Origins, and Lady Alexandria of Zar—stepped in and eased the tensions enough to have a conversation.”
“Good!” Ma beamed at Makayla.
“So if there was a conversation then why are some species still not given the same rights as others?” Madison asked, briefly she laid down the spoon to pull her deep brown nearly black curls into a ponytail. “Because Ryan complains all the time that as a werewolf he’ll never have the same respect I have in society.”
“Not sure,” Makayla shrugged before meeting Madison’s confused green eyes. “Maybe one day everyone will be equal, but not yet.”
“Poor Ryan.”
“I guess. So Ma, was that a good enough answer? Can I go?”
“You can go!”
“Yes!” Makayla whooped.