A/N: This story was from the beginning written for the project CSI Case Files, a competition, on the site CSI Projects. The site is a place where you can chalenge yourself, and see how good author you really are. If you're interested and want to know more of this site, you can find it on There you'll be able to read stories for the different projects, read more of the whole idea with the site. I have only entered one project this far, but i recomend it very much. If you like any of the CSI shows, and like writing, then this is worth a try. Sorry, this wasn't supposed to be about the CSI Projects, but about this story.. Uh, well basically i didn't feel very well at the moment i wrote this, and i needed to express my feelings in some way. Like the title says, it's about Madison. The story is already written and finished, so the updates will come pretty fast; if there's someone who likes it and want me to update, of course!
Disclaimer: The characters that will be found later in this story with the names Becki, Meghan and Christina, are not mine. Or well, in this story they are, but the thing is: they do exist. They are friends of mine for real. And btw, i didn't put them in this story until i had got permission! Madison Keaton and Suzie Barnham is characters from CSI: Miami, and CSI: Miami is Jerry Bruckheimer's.
I sighed and looked around me. I was sitting in our garden, with a notebook resting in my knee. The pen in my hand was old and worn, but still I refused to use another pen. It might sound weird – but that's the way I am. If I have something that works, why buy a new version of it? It might sound weird and old-fashioned, but I can't help it.
It was a very warm day, even for Miami. No man left their houses if they didn't have to. But the warmth didn't disturb me. I like it when it is warm. You could think that people who live here should get used to this temperature. But for some reason they don't. It's the same thing every time. As soon as it pass hundred degrees everyone stays at home, as close to the fan as possible. But I'm used to it, and write best when it is this warm. The grass in our garden was yellow; because of the warmth no-one was allowed to use the water to keep the grass alive. Reasonable.
I had planned to write this story all spring, but hadn't had time to start writing it until now, during the summer holidays. I was planning to write a story about a girl who was moving once a year, because of her father's work. I know it doesn't sound much like this, but the story in my head sounded good, and I couldn't wait to start working on it.
So there I sat, out in our garden with the notebook in my knee. It was past one hundred and ten degrees, and I couldn't concentrate. It was disturbing, since I always had written best in the warmth before.
Irritated, I rose and walked out on the street. Not far away there was a town park, from which I usually kept my distance, since kids always disturbed my writing. Thinking that I hadn't been there for over a year, and that there probably wasn't anyone there a hot day as this, I slowly walked into the park. I could immediately establish I was alone, so I sat down at one of the benches, and with my notebook in my knee, I stared to write.
As soon as the pen touched the paper, it was as if I was in another world. All worries, all problems and everything I kept in my head disappeared, and all I could think of was the story and the characters I was writing about. The time past, and I didn't notice anything that were happening around me.
"Hello? Excuse me?" Someone said from a great distance. Or at least it sounded like a great distance. I looked up from my notebook, and only a few yards away, there was a small girl, with her hair in a cap looking at me. It looked like if she was about nine years old. Her pale face was covered with freckles, and she had small, read lips.
"Excuse me," she said again.
"Yeah?" I looked at and tried not to show I was irritated. "What do you want?" I sounded much more unpleasant than I intended to.
"My name is Madison… Can I sit here?"
'Couldn't she sit on another bench?' I thought irritated. There must've been about five benches in a distance of about 20 yards.
"Of course," I said and forced myself to smile. I moved a bit so she would have plenty of room to sit on, and then I turned my face down and put the pen to the paper.
"What are you writing?" She asked when I had written about three letters. I looked up again.
"A story," I answered shortly.
"What's it about?"
"Look, don't you have any friends to play with? There is a slide over there, why not go and play there?" I knew I wasn't very nice, but I wanted to be alone. I was surprised when I noticed she didn't look angry or insulted, just shrugged and said, "I don't like slides, plus I don't want to draw much attention to myself."
"Er… By talking to me you get much more attention than you would've got if you just had played silently on the playground."
"I don't like slides very much anyway," the girl said. "So what's your story gonna be about?"
"A girl who's being forced to move every year because of her father's work." I didn't know why I told her about it.
"I've always wanted to write a story…"
"Well, why don't go home and start writing?" I said, hoping she would leave.
"Nah, I've never had much talent. Can I read yours?"
"I've just started… It's just a few pages…"
"That doesn't matter. Can I read it?"
"Alright," I finally answered. I handed her the story, and waited to hear of her opinion. Not that it mattered. What did a nine-year-old know about writing?
"Your writing is amazing," Madison said. "But… I think you could need a
hand with the story plot. I could help you!"
"Thanks, but uh… I mean you're like… Nine years old? Shouldn't you spend time with friends in your age?"
"I'm eleven," she said.
"Eleven?"
"Eleven," she repeated. "How old are you then? Fourteen?"
"Fifteen."
"Exactly. You're just four years older."
"That's quite a lot, uh… Madison."
A distant sound made them both turn their heads.
"Madison!" Someone yelled from the street beside the park.
"Someone's missing you," I said.
"I got to go. Will you come with me and say 'hey' to my mom?" She made it impossible to say no.
"Alright," I said and sighed. I rose, and together we walked to a thin woman standing just outside the park.
"Madison! I told you to stay at home today!" She said with loud voice.
"You say that every day."
"I…" The woman noticed me, and turned to her daughter. "Go home, and stay there. This will be continued."
Madison gave her mother an angry look, and then walked away. Embarrassed, I turned to leave, but the woman who was Madison mother, walked to me.
"I'm Suzie, Madison's mother. I uh… I'm sorry if my daughter has disturbed you in some kind of way…"
"I'm Caroline. And no, she just talked a little. It's nothing to worry about," I hurried to say.
"I know this uh… conversation between me and my daughter must've sounded very… rough. But she was supposed to meet her doctor today. It's the second time she ran away."
"Her doctor?" I asked before I could stop myself.
"Oh… Well… Madison has leukaemia…" It felt like if she had hit me. Leukaemia? That little girl I had been so unpleasant towards? From that moment, I knew I was a terrible person. How could I treat a child with cancer like that?
And then I realized another thing; the small girl called Madison hadn't had her hair under the cap. She probably didn't have any hair at all.
"I'm… I'm so sorry. She didn't tell me. I'm very sorry."
"I hate being forced to be this rough towards her, now when she has just a few…" She stopped, with a terrified look upon her face, and then continued as if nothing had happened. "But she refuses to see the doctor. I think she's scared of what he might tell her…"
"I can understand that… Do you mind if I uh… followed you home, and talked to her? She asked if I needed some help with my writing, and I think I do…"
"You write stories? Madison has always loved to write! How lovely it would be if she could help you!"
I smiled weakly, and then followed Suzie down the street. It turned out they lived just one street from where I lived, but still I never had seen any of them.
"Oh, we just moved here. We lived in an apartment before. But since her cancer became worse again, I wanted to live nearer the hospital," she answered my question. The Miami Dade Memorial Hospital was very close.
"Just walk down the hall, then the third door on your left," she said when we came into the house, and I followed her instructions.
When I stopped in front of a door I knew led into Madison's room, I hesitated. The door was looking just like so many other girls doors did when they were in that age; with a big sign, reading 'MADISON's Room', and a few posters of people I never had heard or seen.
After hesitating another second or so, I knocked and then entered. The room was pretty big, with room for a bed, a desk and a shelf. On the desk, I could see a brand-new laptop. A Mac, from Apple. I had been dreaming of getting an identical computer all year. On the floor, there was a big cage, but I couldn't see an animal in it. I suspected it must be a guinea-pig that was living there, but probably hiding in the small house in the corner of the cage.
Then, after looking at all this, my eyes fell upon the girl who was lying in the bed.
"Hi," I said, and smiled to her. "I uh… I've been thinking a little of your offer to help me. And you're right. The whole idea of my story is really bad, and I could really need a hand with the writing."
She smiled, and then sat up. I could see there was laying a white and black guinea-pig in her knee.
"Mom told you, didn't she?"
"Told me what?" I asked. I have always been a terrible liar.
"About my cancer."
"I… Yes she did."
"So you're just doing this because you feel guilty for threatening a girl with cancer the way you did earlier."
"No, that's not the only reason, Madison. I could really need some help, and you seem to know quite a lot about writing." She didn't reply; just stroke her hand over the animal in her knee.
"What's his or hers name?" I asked.
"This is Jenna. She's not very fond of laying still, actually. And in the cage, sleeping, is Ron."
"Can I wake him up?"
"Of course. Ron loves to sit in peoples knees. Jenna is his opposite. She loves to run around in my room."
I bent down and moved the small house in the cage. In there laid a small, red haired guinea-pig. "Is it Ron, as Ron Weasley in the Harry Potter books?" I asked, thinking of the redhead in the books written by Rowling.
She nodded, smiling. "I love the Harry Potter books, and for some reason I thought of Ron when I bought him. So I named him like Harry's friend, Ron."
"I love the Harry Potter books too," I said, sitting down beside her. "Oh, Ron's gorgeous!" I said, when the small creature cooed happily.
Madison laughed. "No one really notices Ron when Jenna is anywhere near, because she is so fond of people and likes the publicity. Ron, on the other hand, prefers when it's calm and quite around him."
"They're both gorgeous." We were silent for a while; both attentions were directed on the small animals in our knees.
"Madison?"
"Mhm?"
"…You're mother told me about the leukaemia. I just want to say-"
"I don't wanna talk about it," she said and rose, with Jenna in her arms. She let her down in the cage, and then turned to me.
"You never told me your name."
"Oh, you're right. I'm Caroline. I live the next street."
She nodded. "So, you said you wanted some help with your story?"
"Yeah, well, it seemed like you knew a bit of writing, and maybe you could help me?" I knew I had to try to cover up for things I said to her before, but promised myself I would keep writing on the story I had started while home again. No matter what the girl said – it was a good idea and a good story. I just had to work on it a little.
"You want honest answer on what I think of your story?"
I nodded.
"The way you express people's feelings, and make descriptions is wonderful. And I'm not saying this to make you happy, because they whole way you write is really good. But the whole idea of your story, well… I don't think there are so many people who would like to read about a girl who was moving. I mean, of course that might be hard for those who have it that way, but all the same… Well, Caroline, there is no meaning in what you are writing. When I try to write – it does happen sometimes – I write about things that matters to me. Things that I think are of importance."
"Like?"
"Like… 9/11. How that day shattered families and the way it changed the whole world."
Even if it was hard to admit it, I finally understood that she was right about my story. The 9/11 was something of great importance, comparing to what I planned to write. Who cared of a girl who was being forced to move, when tragedies like 9/11 happens?
"You're right… My idea of that girl who is moving every year sucks." I was honest, but I knew Madison thought I said it just to make her happy.
"But what about writing some kind of mix of these two ideas? It can be about a girl who is moving, and maybe she spends one year in New York? Maybe they live in New York in 2001?"
"That's a very good idea," I said thoughtfully. "But how will we write it? Shall we write every second chapter? Or shall one of us write it? Or shall we write it together?"
"I think the result would be best if we wrote it together… And I think you should be the one who is holding the pen."
"Deal," I said, smiling.
"Shall we get started then?" She asked.
"Now?"
"Yes, now! Why wait?"
"Well… Alright then, I'll go and get my notebook in the hall." So I went out from the room, and hurried to the hall where I found the notebook just like I had left it. I went back to Madison's room, and we sat down beside each other on the bed.
We discussed how the story was going to start, and then I put the pen on the paper. As soon as I had started writing, I forgot everything that was happening around me. I forgot that Madison was sitting beside me, I forgot that I actually was spending time with a girl who was four years younger, and I forgot about the thing people call 'Time'.
I don't know for how long we sat there, close together with the notebook, and only talking when we decided what to write next. Except for our short conversations about the story, the room was entirely quite, and the only sound was the birds singing outside in the July evening.
A knock on the door broke the silence, and Suzie entered the room.
"Madison, Dr. Miller is here."
The reality hit me in the face, and I was abruptly dragged back to real life.
I felt embarrassed, as if I was rummaging in their privacy. In Madison's privacy.
"I better go," I said and rose hastily.
"Can't you stay?" Madison asked, and for the first time during my stay in their house, I realized how much younger she really was. She looked sad and disappointed that I was leaving, and the young child was shown in her face.
"No, I should get home now anyway. My parents probably wonder where I am, and I don't want to be in your way during your… appointment."
"Okay… But will we see each other tomorrow?"
I smiled to her, as she followed me out of the room. "Maybe. We'll see."
Isn't it funny how the world always seems to surprise you? The thing is; you never know if the surprise is a good one or not until it dances in front of you.
Feel free to leave a review. Next chapter will be here soon - if you want me to update.
