Friday morning is a breath of fresh air, after the stifling week of exams that they've had.

This exam is the last one of the week and they've only got a few left, scattered throughout the few weeks, but at least the worst is over. Becky flits about the place, organising things as she snaps out crisp orders to the servants.

"Good morning, Becky," Madison says, as she smooths down her school skirt. "Remember that I have a full day today, which means Windsor has to be with you for the weekend. Does he still need his bed or is he alright now?"

"Good morning, Miss Madison," Becky says easily, as Madison drinks the glass of water she gives. "Windsor is good now, but I think it's best to take the bed. Thank you, Miss Madison. My niece does love playing with him." Madison continues to drink, so she doesn't have to reply. "A package came for you."

"Is it from Mother?" Madison asks, and she can't keep the note of eagerness out of her voice.

Becky lifts her head and her eyes are bright, her lips drawing into a soft curve.

"Maybe, Miss Madison?"

"Thank you, Becky. Please tell Louie to wait, while I open this," Madison says, and her heart cannot contain herself, with the excitement running through her veins.

She is almost shaking as her fingers unwrap the boxed gift tentatively, caressing the pale tissue paper as it crinkles under her touch. Madison hasn't ordered anything lately, she doesn't think, and there's no name or note, so it could still be Mother. When she opens the box, to her confusion, the paper tearing, within it lies a ...cupcake?

Mother would never send her a cupcake.

Disappointment sinks within her, threatening to swallow her whole.

Clearing her throat, Madison fumbles around the box, putting the cupcake on the table, a little away from her with some care. It's from a Redwood bakery, she realises, her brows furrowing together as Madison's gaze turns back to the cupcake.

"Becky?" Madison calls.

The housekeeper turns her head.

"Yes, Miss Madison?"

"Did you see who left this here?"

"No, Miss Madison," Becky says, shaking her head. Her gaze falls on the cupcake and she breaks out into a soft smile. "It could be your boyfriend, Miss Madison."

Madison almost chokes.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she snaps, but unbidden, Nick's face pops up in her mind.

His stupid handsome face and his stupid smug smile, she thinks and shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Miss Madison," Becky says quickly. "I just meant to say that it's a nice gift. Looks homemade, too."

It is a nice gift, Madison admits.

It's a perfectly sweet chocolate cupcake, lavishly spread with thick cream and decorated with a glacé cherry on top. The cupcake sits harmlessly on the table and Madison's mouth waters at the sight, her control slipping from her fingers.

Her fingers reach out before she can stop herself and Madison plucks the sugared cherry, rolling it between her fingers. Becky is still standing there, but there's something like a warmth and hope lingering within her features.

"I shouldn't eat this," Madison says to Becky, her voice slightly thin. "I'm on a diet."

"Of course, Miss Madison," Becky says, and Madison's stomach clenches.

She's so hungry.

There have been many moments when she thought that she would quite genuinely faint, in the middle of everything. Madison had actually seen blackness seep across her vision, but she usually clenches her own fingers, until her nails dig into her flesh. The pain brings her back and it's a brief distraction against the gnawing, aching hunger that claws into her stomach.

Even so, her gaze is drawn to the sumptuous cherry, the glint of the candied fruit reflecting softly.

Madison's breath catches, and for the strangest reason, she wants to cry.

"But," Becky says, and Madison turns her face to her housekeeper, letting out a breath. "Miss Madison, if you wouldn't mind me saying."

"What is it?"

"It is just a cupcake," Becky says, and when she looks at Madison, her gaze turns softer, her eyes bright with concern. "You've been fantastic with your diet, but I am... I don't think it's healthy for a growing girl to be sticking to salad once a day. You didn't touch your food on Monday, and that was because you missed the one o'clock mark."

Madison lifts her head and shakes back her hair.

"I don't think you quite understand, Becky," she says, and her voice is curt. "My mother is depending on me. I cannot sully our good name at this charity ball."

"Of course, of course, Miss Madison," Becky says quickly, and her lips part. "I just - I worry sometimes."

"About the diet?" Madison blinks. "You can tell my mother that I am adhering to it -,"

"No, Miss Madison," Becky says, and her voice is so shocked that Madison stares. "I worry about you."

She's so startled that when Becky hurries to perform another task, Madison can barely summon the voice in her throat. Something within her throat sticks and she lets her gaze linger after her housekeeper, whose face is set with determination, her stomach clenching. Madison feels her bottom lip quiver and feels the terrible, familiar urge to burst into tears, just as she had done with Louie, in the car.

Her eyes fall to the glacé cherry within her fingers and before she can stop herself, she puts it in her mouth.

The fruit is crushed between her teeth, the sweet, sticky juices pouring into her mouth, and Madison inhales sharply. It's glorious as anything and the saccharine flavour spreads across her tongue briefly, for the most magnificent of moments.

It hasn't been bought from a shop, that much Madison can tell. No, she thinks, as she turns to the cupcake, this is the real homemade stuff. And it's beautiful.

She is already reaching for the cupcake before the call of her phone stops her.

It's like a sharp slap to the face.

What is she doing?

Madison recoils in horror against the cupcake, as though it is some monster from the deep, sent to torture her. How could she have been so stupid? To let herself be lulled into some stupid food coma, with one glacé cherry?

As she pulls out her phone, she tells Becky to take away the offending cupcake and notes the rather worried look flitting across her housekeeper's expression. Madison picks up her schoolbag, to walk to her car, as she checks her phone.

It's her father.

God, she thinks, already rattled and angered. Why can't he just take the hint?

*

"I can't even remember what exam this is," Lula is saying frantically, rummaging through the textbooks.

Madison turns her head and fishes the science textbook out of her fingers, replacing it with the computing textbook.

"Computing," she tells Lula, and Lula lets out a startled, horrified exclamation.

A low chuckle from Elliot makes Madison's lips purse together.

"I know what you're going to say, Madison," Elliot says, raising his hands. "But if I'm going to live, I may as well do it happily. I don't see exams as a route to my happiness."

"You have to keep your options open," Maria tells Elliot, even as Madison opens her mouth to thoroughly rebuke him. She is so startled that someone, other than her, is agreeing that Elliot is stupid that Madison turns her head. "It's all very well having a company to fall back on, but what if you want to do something else?"

"Says the girl who wanted to be a singer since she was three," Elliot points out.

But Maria shakes her head and Madison realises she looks more serious than she has ever seen her. Maria's dark eyes are filled with a brimming tension.

"Yeah, and I still do," she tells them, her gaze flickering over to Madison. "But if that doesn't work out, I still want to have something to fall back on. And we can only do that if we pass these exams and graduate." She looks thoughtful and lifts her head. "Madison, can I talk to you?"

Even Audrey's head snaps up, her eyes sharp and bright with interest, as Lula's jaw drops. They none of them say anything as Madison nods, her mind a dizzied, heavy blur, and she feels the heaviness of Elliot's gaze lingering at her back as she moves to speak with Maria. Madison clenches her fist again and she feels the flesh of her palm break apart with the sheer effort it takes to stop herself from keeling over.

"Is something wrong, Maria?" she asks, and she's glad that her voice sounds rather normal.

Maria bites her lip and stares at her.

"Madison, look, I didn't mean to call you a control freak," she says bluntly.

"But you still did."

Madison tries not to bristle, tries not to show how hurt she is, how hungry she is.

The Spanish girl furrows her brows together.

"It doesn't mean that you're not one," she says, and Madison's lips part, hurt. "I just - I didn't mean to make you hurt." She tilts her head towards her. "And you are a little bit rude, you have to admit it, Madison."

She's so hurt she can barely breathe, feeling the horrified urge to burst into tears and break apart right before Maria. The words cut through her like a blade to her heart and with every word Maria speaks, it is as though she drives the blade deeper and deeper.

"If you're trying to apologise to me," Madison says, and she bites out her words bitterly, blinking furiously, "you're doing a crap job, Maria. Here's a hint. You're supposed to take back the cruel names you called me. You're supposed to say sorry."

God, she sounds like she's going to cry.

Maria shakes back her hair and looks distraught.

"Madison, for God's sake," she says, and she huffs, the sound cutting Madison to the core. "You're not getting it. Yeah, I was drunk, and I shouldn't have said those things. But that doesn't mean that they're not true. And it doesn't mean that it doesn't affect all of us."

Something sticks in her throat.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Madison snaps out, her voice too harsh in her defiance and defensiveness.

"I mean," Maria says, and she lets out a deep, bracing breath, "that you're rude to all of us. We're your friends and you're not supposed to treat us like that. Plus, God, you need to relax, sometimes! You're so controlling, it exhausts me! It's like you can't let one thing go, like you have to control everything."

For the briefest of moments, Madison feels as though she is going to break apart.

She feels it within her, feels the shattering of her pounding heart crash against her ribcage, feels the thick barrage of tears bury up within her, building up to burst through her like a waterfall. Her fingers are trembling, and her breaths are shaking and Maria stares at her as though she is some stupid, stuck thing, and Madison wants to cry.

Is this what she is to her?

Is this all that she means to her friend?

"I'm not rude," Madison bites, and she calls back her own control, bit by bit, gaining a hold of herself tightly. She breathes out hoarsely and continues. "You didn't think I was rude when I saved you from the scholarship girl's stupidity, when I saved Audrey, when I saved Lula, of all people. When I attended all of Elliot's dinners and everything you all pulled me in to, even when I didn't want to. You didn't think I was rude when I called in favours to get us tickets to the Victoria's Secret shows, when I had them put Audrey on the catwalk, and you sing a song."

"Madison -,"

"And so, I like a bit of control. I don't see how it affects you, Maria, and I think you're utterly ungrateful and rude yourself, to judge me for everything that I am," Madison says, shaking back her hair angrily. "How dare you think you can judge me? How dare you be such a bitch to me, when I've done so much for all of us, when I've done more than anyone else in this group alone?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Madison - you don't understand -,"

"No, because I'm a rude control freak -,"

"Friendship isn't favours, Madison! Just because you do stuff for us doesn't mean that you should," Maria says, and lets out a breath.

Madison turns her head to her friends, who are, predictably, listening in. Her gaze narrows darkly towards them.

"And I suppose the rest of you hold this sentiment, too, except you're too much of cowards to actually say anything," she says, her voice thrumming with fury.

Lula opens her mouth.

"Madison, we're -,"

"Being rude and ungrateful brats," Madison bites out angrily.

The examiners are calling for them to enter the exam hall, but Madison is so taut and tensed and hungry and angry that she can barely breathe. She scoffs at her friends and reaches for her bag angrily, turning her back on them.

When she walks away, her heels clattering pointedly against the floor, some part of Madison wishes that they would follow.

She is already in some empty corridor of the school when her phone rings. Madison fumbles for it, blackness beginning to seep across her vision as her stomach grumbles painfully. She feels like she's going to burst into tears, going to shatter apart right there, but Madison holds herself taut, refusing to let herself rest. She reaches for her phone, before realising that it is her father, once again.

She's so distraught and angry and so alone that she can barely breathe. Madison is huffing, gasping for breath, as she stalks down the corridor. Her fingers are shaking and she's hot and cold all over and everything is so awful, and it hurts so much -

I can do this, she thinks to herself firmly. I have control over myself. I am control, I am everything -

I am not hungry, I am not hungry, I am not -

All in an instant, blackness sweeps across her and Madison sees no more.

*