The sight of her naked body standing in the bedroom doorway dropped Maddie’s mouth to the floor.
Tiffani wore a wide grin as she casually ran a towel through her short blond hair. She stood with her feet apart, slightly wider than shoulder width as if trying to allow more air-drying space for her nether region—except that area contained the anatomy of a boy.
Tiffani was a he.
“Surprise,” said the person Maddie knew as Tiffani, his voice transforming into a lilting sound. He strolled over as Maddie fought to reconcile what she was seeing in front of her.
“You’re not the only one with secrets. Except mine was forced on me.”
“Yo-yo-you’re a dude?”
He frowned. “No, I’m not. I’m a girl who was born with the birth defect of boy parts.”
The absurd comment forced a loud chuckle from deep in Maddie’s throat.
She expected another blow to follow due to her derisive response. The boy who had called himself Tiffani instead turned and strode over to the dresser and reached to one side of it. When his hand pulled back, it was holding a sheathed machete and an eight-inch rod with pink gripping. He put the rod in his other hand, then flicked his wrist to extend the rod into a baton.
“Yes, go ahead and laugh. My father, mother, and the rest of my family certainly did. They laughed then beat me when they figured out I was not pretending. Then shunned me, shipping me away before my father’s death to hide his shame.”
“But you’ve been here for years. You’ve been pretending all this time?”
This time a blow was delivered—a sharp rap to the side of Maddie’s leg with the sheathed blade. “Not pretending. Being myself. Being free to be who I am!”
“Which is only possible because you’re in America, asshole. You can’t get to Paradise being a girl when you have a penis between your legs.”
Not-Really-Tiffani pulled his arm back, as if he were going to deliver another blow but he held off. Instead, he drew a rueful smirk. “As my good uncle has told me more than once,” he said in response to Maddie’s comment about Paradise. “But he showed me the way, al-Taqiyya—deceiving nonbelievers so that we may strike when least expected. Those taken and my role in the plan would allow me to wash away my family’s shame. I would be able to redeem myself. But now, now I can take your life, the girl that got away, and bring even higher honor to my family’s name.”
Maddie heard the words but was barely listening. Even with the evidence—literally swinging in front of her—she could not reconcile this unexpected reality. The person she knew as Tiffani—his face was too soft, too delicate to be a boy’s. Her—or rather his—hair was too soft and shiny. Everything about him screamed female. He even had small breasts. And that’s when it dawned on her: Gym class.
“The needles . . . the ones you carry around with you. They’re not for some rare disease?”
“No. Estrogen injections.”
“What’s your real name?”
“Tiffani is the name I chose.”
“Your birth name,” retorted Maddie.
“Ihtisham is the name my parents chose. It is not who I am.”
This is why I hate Islamists. They’re totally irrational. Maddie did not understand how this pretend girl standing before her could reconcile redeeming his family and repenting for the “sin” of transgender delusion but still insist on thinking he was a she. Maddie may not have known much about Islam, but she knew repentance required turning away from your perceived sin in pretty much every religion. Before she could question Ihtisham, a hard, loud knock reverberated through the house.
Someone was at the front door.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Before Maddie could scream, the machete was pulled from its sheath and its edge placed under her chin.
“Make a sound, and there will be a funeral.”
Another pounding knock sounded off throughout the house. Holding one hand firm against Maddie’s throat, Ihtisham dropped the blade and stepped behind her. Maddie heard tape being unwrapped, then she felt a securing towel being forced into her mouth and wrapped in place with the tape.
“Just a minute,” Ihtisham yelled when the third series of pounding knocks carried throughout the house.
He left the room and stepped back into the bathroom to wipe any blood from his face. A moment later, Ihtisham restarted the shower before heading downstairs wearing a pink robe, shorts, and carrying the baton. “Hold your horses. I’m coming,” he yelled, his voice reverting to the singsong sound Maddie had grown to associate with Tiffani.
Ihtisham headed down the stairs, then looked through the door’s peephole to get a fish-eyed view of Aden and Dorete. Cursing, he composed himself, then he retreated to the home’s living room. He knew he had to open the door. Ihtisham also knew Aden would not leave without speaking with Maddie. Grimacing, he retracted the baton and placed it inside his robe’s large pocket. He also reached for a small pink Taser on a glass table. Ihtisham placed it into the robe’s opposite pocket, then checked to make sure neither item could be seen. There was no way to hide the fact that the pockets held something, but he doubted the pair would ask him about it. Satisfied, he returned to the door and opened it enough for his face to be seen.
“Aden? Dorete? What are you guys doing here?”
Relief flooded Aden’s face but did not stop him from pushing through the door. “We’re looking for Maddie. We’ve been calling her all day—”
His voice dropped off when he saw Tiffani wearing nothing but a robe. He glanced behind at Dorete, looking for help. She had remained outside but walked in quickly after seeing the look on his face. When she saw the robe, she raised a single eyebrow.
“Um, we’re assuming Madison is here . . . with you?”
“Yeah, she’s upstairs in the shower. We didn’t hear the phone ring . . .” He let his voice trail off, letting the two of them fill in the blanks. The lewd presumptions of American teens did not disappoint. Dorete’s mouth formed a large “O” a moment before bringing a hand to her mouth in sudden understanding.
“Oh,” she uttered. “Well, this is awkward.” She shifted back and forth on her feet, unsure whether to leave or stay. Finally, she shook her head and headed for the living room. She was not paying attention to where she was placing her feet and nearly tripped over Maddie’s backpack. “Yep, she’s here. Only she would have something this god-awful and ugly.”
Dorete plopped down on the couch, then reached inside the backpack. “What the hell is this?” She had pulled out the crossbow.
Ihtisham walked over and snatched it away from her. “She thought she needed protection or something. I don’t know. You know how she is.”
Dorete shrugged. “Tell her we’re here, so big boy over there can calm down. And that, you know, your secret is safe with us. Not that anyone would care . . . I don’t think.”
Aden had remained silent the entire time. He looked from the person he knew as Tiffani to Dorete, and up the stairs, where the sound of a running shower wafted down. The noise was clear, like would be expected if the bathroom door was open. He found it odd. Without realizing it, he took a step toward the stairs.
“Whoa, whoa, big boy,” Ihtisham said, stepping in front of Aden with a hand held out to his chest. “I don’t think Madison is quite ready for you to see her naked parts, even if she’s not on your team, so to speak.”
Aden snorted, his disbelief evident. “Maddie,” he yelled up the stairs. “Get down here.” When she did not answer, he frowned.
“Aden,” Ihtisham began, leading him into the living room, “I’ll go get her. Jesus. You’re freaking me out. How did you know she was here, anyway?”
Reluctantly, Aden allowed himself to be directed toward Dorete. “The pet thingies. Maddie lost hers, but yours is working.”
Ihtisham could not hold back a grimace. Maddie had another tracker on her. Perhaps it was not so ghetto after all. He flashed a dollar-store smile. “I forgot all about that thing. Let me go grab
her.”
Suddenly, a crash from upstairs boomed throughout the house.
Minutes before the crash . . .
As soon as Ihtisham left Maddie, she started considering her options. The chair she was restrained to was an office chair with metal supports for the armrests. Trying to break them would be a no-go. Her legs were also handcuffed to the bottom. The legs of the chair were plastic, which provided options if she could free her hands.
She felt along the handcuffs on her wrists. There was a little slack in them, but they were attached to the second pair of handcuffs. The restraints were set up in “T” fashion with the middle link securing the chains of the cuffs on her wrists and the support cylinder under the chair.
Maddie cursed. Ihtisham had seen her flexibility. The “T” formation of the cuffs were no doubt to prevent her from stretching her arms behind her and moving them in front. That would have made getting free or doing something easier. While that option was taken away, she had another—one she had just recently learned.
Double-jointed.
That is what Vaska had said when he tried to put her in a wristlock. The lock had brought her no pain because she was double-jointed in her wrists and thumbs.
Time was running short. Barely, she could heard what sounded like Aden talking with her captor. Yes, they tracked me! Aden would have no reason to suspect Ihtisham. He was Tiffani to him. He had fooled everyone for years. Aden was larger than Ihtisham but unware of the danger. There was no telling what Ihtisham might do. Still, Maddie needed to rush.
She took a couple of breaths, then twisted her wrists and wiggled her fingers to loosen them. Bringing her hands together, she slid the handcuff on the left arm to just past her wrist joint. She pushed down on the thumb to slowly force it toward the midpart of her palm.
Despite the “double-jointed” moniker, her thumb would not just slide forward like some sort of slot used when building IKEA furniture. Double-jointed was a commonplace misnomer used to describe hyperflexibility. In Maddie’s case, she needed to stretch her thumb as far as possible to allow her wiggle room to slip her hand through the cuffs.
When she felt she could not move her thumb any further, she tried to work her hand through the cuff. The joint at the base of her thumb, however, was still too high. She needed to stretch the thumb downward more.
“Maddie,” she heard Aden calling from downstairs.
She grunted loudly, desperately hoping he would hear her. The running shower, however, was too loud. Her grunt turned into a roll of frustration roiling from the bottom of her throat. Frustration and fear gave her focus, clarity. It did not matter if she had to break her thumb. It would be better than a dead friend downstairs and what was in store for her if she did not escape.
Maddie grunted again and this time pushed her thumb to the point of sharp pain—and kept pushing it. The pain was intense, but she felt some give. She could tell she was almost there. The millimeter of movement turned into a snapping slide forward. Burning pain shot through her as the cuff scraped a sliver of skin and stitches off as it slid off her hand.
Knowing how much she needed to push her thumb now, she ignored the pain and began working on freeing her right hand. The angle for stretching the right thumb was not good. She did not have decent leverage, so she would have to stretch the thumb from an awkward position. Nonetheless, she leaned in as much as she could, which, ultimately, dislocated her right thumb, but she was able to slip her hand free. Without a second thought, she grabbed her thumb and pulled it straight. The pain made the scrape feel like a pat on the back. Tears came to her eyes, and she could not help falling forward to the floor, setting off a racket as the chair upended.
There was no way it could have been missed, but rather than crying out her name, she heard Aden scream in pain.
The sound sent an adrenaline spike through her. She crawled over to the machete Ihtisham had left behind. She was in an awkward position and needed to orient herself and the chair she was secured to. Its plastic bottom would take too long to whack through. Maddie would have to break the chains on the cuffs. If she swung and missed, she would likely cut her foot half off. She would break free but would be bleeding to death. But she was out of options, and this was the only one she had. She moved her foot around to put as much space between the ankle and the chain as possible. Holding the machete two handed, she lined it up, then swung down. The thick blade hit the chain and a portion of the chair’s leg, which bounced back toward Maddie. Ignoring the ringing in her wrist, she lined it up again and swung. The result was the same, but she could see a deformation in the links. She dropped the blade, then pushed the cuff around her ankle against its twin, twisting the chains and scraping the sides together. A moment later, they snapped apart.
YES!
Grabbing the blade again, she positioned her other foot and swung down once, twice, and a third time. The added leverage of being loose and able to stand when swinging allowed her to skip twisting the remaining cuffs together. The links snapped apart. Maddie pulled off the tape that had secured the towel in her mouth and took a bit of hair with it. Finally free, she dashed from the room.
The moment Aden screamed, Dorete jumped up in shock. Being frozen in place was the only thing that saved her from getting bashed in the head. Ihtisham had flicked the hidden baton open and swung at Dorete. But his classmate was just out of range, and the metal rod only hit a glancing blow to Dorete’s shoulder.
It was enough to make her scream in pain, then scramble away. “What the hell, Tiffani?” Dorete shrieked.
No answer was forthcoming. Her friend stepped away from Aden, leaving him muscle locked on the floor. Now, Dorete could see the Taser in Ihtisham’s hand and the baton in the other. She backpedaled to grab picture frames sitting on the fireplace mantel and hurl them at Ihtisham.
He brushed aside the improvised missiles and swung the baton. The metal rod caught her hard in the side of her leg. Dorete screamed and fell down. The pain was immense but was forgotten when the Taser made contact with the inside of her thigh.
Dorete instantly stiffened as electricity coursed through her like a red wave, tossing her about but leaving her aware of what was happening. She screamed at her classmate, cursed her, and pleaded for her to stop.
Or at least she thought she did. In reality, only stuttering sounds reminiscent of someone with Tourette syndrome poured from her mouth. Then a snarling howl reverberated throughout the house.
Ihtisham released the Taser, spun around, and flung the baton out to block something. Eyes blinking, but otherwise unable to move, Dorete watched Maddie, who had made it downstairs, swing what looked like a sword. Ihtisham blocked the swinging blade, then stepped forward to strike Maddie with the Taser.
Maddie hopped backward and swung the blade again. Her eyes were wild, and her teeth were clenched in furious anger. It was the same look Dorete had seen on her fellow cheerleader’s face when she had jumped into the fight at the football game. The stakes here, however, were higher. Dorete had no idea what was happening, but she knew that if the girl she had been so disdainful toward lost this fight, the other girl she had known for years would do something acutely bad to her.
Ihtisham and Maddie paused and circled each other for a moment before coming to blows again. Maddie swung and hacked the blade she was holding like she was confronting a zombie horde. All she needed was darker skin, a dreadlock wig, and she’d be a mini Michonne. Much to Dorete’s surprise, the person she knew as Tiffani met each blow with a block and an attack of her own.
The fight looked over when the tip of the baton managed to connect against the inside of Maddie’s arm. Maddie dropped the blade, and Ihtisham rushed forward in another attempt at striking her with the Taser. Maddie shifted sideways, stepped inside the lunge, and grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the Taser. She pushed it away while swinging a sharp elbow into Ihtisham’s face.
Blood splashed through the air, and Ihtisham dropped the Taser. Maddie kicked it away, but doing so left her
unbalanced. Ihtisham shoved backward, causing Maddie to stumble into Dorete’s prone form and fall to the floor.
Ihtisham must have seen something in his peripheral vision because his eyes shifted toward Aden. Electing to not advance on Maddie, he instead backtracked. He grabbed the edge of the glass table and upended it toward Dorete and Maddie. Maddie rolled away, leaving Dorete to helplessly look at the table heading toward her. Then she felt her body yanked backward before the table struck the floor.
By some miracle, the glass did not shatter. Maddie jumped over the table, but Ihtisham had spun around and run out of the front door. Maddie started to follow but stopped when she saw her backpack on the floor. She bent down and reached into it to pull out a short arrow.
What the hell is this—Medieval Times theater? thought Dorete as she watched Maddie snatch the crossbow off the floor as well.
Maddie put the bolt in her mouth as she ran out of the house and cocked the crossbow to pull the string back. Ahead of her, Ihtisham was running toward a black van parked in the driveway, his robe flapping back and forth to expose his physical truth to any neighbor unlucky enough to catch the expanding spectacle. He elected to skip racing around to the driver’s side and instead pulled open the passenger door. Maddie quickly loaded the arrow bolt, took aim, and fired. The bolt struck home in Ihtisham’s shoulder a moment before he could pull the door closed behind him. A cry of pain echoed throughout the neighborhood, but the pain did not stop Ihtisham. He climbed across the passenger seat, started the van, and threw it into reverse. Somehow, he managed to get the van onto the road without hitting any parked cars. Maddie stood in the yard as a few people opened their doors at the screeching sound of the van racing away.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Maddie ignored the puzzled looks from the neighbors across the street. She ran back to the house where Aden was just reaching the open door. He was moving slowly but was erect.
The Madison Jennings Series Box Set Page 46
