Diamonds in the Rough. Michelle Madow
other hand, was doubling up on her junior year sciences by taking both advanced genetics and AP chemistry.
“Of course,” Madison said as Mrs. Amy passed out the supplies. She did most of the work when she did labs with Oliver, but she didn’t mind. Science labs were fun, and this one would be easy. All they had to do was prick each other’s fingers, put a few drops of blood on the card provided with the kit and analyze their results.
As they prepped for the experiment, they talked about their plans for the night. Their group was going to dinner at the Terrace restaurant at the Gates Hotel, and from there Oliver had reserved a center cabana at Luxe, the main club at the Gates, where Calvin Harris would be DJing. Cabanas at Luxe were one of the perks of Oliver’s dad owning the Gates, although Madison had been best friends with him before his dad had built the famous Vegas hotel a few years ago. They’d become close in second grade, when they’d been assigned seats next to each other, and she’d helped him learn his multiplication tables. And here she was today, still helping him in science and math.
“Ladies first?” Oliver held up the lancet he would use to prick her finger, his eyes gleaming like he couldn’t wait.
Madison held her hand out to him, turned her head and covered her eyes. “Warn me before you do it.”
“You want to be a doctor and you’re afraid of blood?”
“I don’t mind other people’s blood,” she said. “But I hate when it’s my own.”
“I’m going to count to three,” he said, holding her index finger in place. “One, two…” Then he pricked her finger, and Madison jumped, taking an audible breath inward.
“Way to not say three.” She glared at him. He smirked, apparently amused, and she couldn’t help but smile back.
“You survived.” He held out his finger. “Now do me.”
She grabbed the lancet and pricked him without counting off. “Payback,” she said gleefully.
Oliver shook out his hand and cursed. “That hurt,” he said, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.
“Now for the experiment.” Madison squeezed her finger to push out the blood, ready for the fun part of this lab. A few years ago she’d been watching a television show with her parents about a group of people lost on a deserted island, and one of the characters had needed a blood transfusion, but he hadn’t known his blood type. Her dad had said the character needed a universal donor with O-negative blood, like himself, to make sure he didn’t reject the transfusion. At the time, Madison hadn’t thought to ask about her own blood type, but the current unit in class had made her curious.
She mixed her blood into the designated spots on the card and waited a minute for the results. Once it was ready, she picked it up and studied it.
“This can’t be right,” she said, mixing the blood some more. But the results didn’t change.
“What do you mean?” Oliver glanced at her card. “It looks like you’re AB positive. That’s one of the rarest ones, right?”
“Mrs. Amy?” Madison raised her hand. “I need another card. There’s something wrong with mine.”
“Are you sure?” Mrs. Amy walked over from where she was helping another student, her eyebrows knitting in confusion. She picked up Madison’s card and examined it. “This looks fine to me.”
“It’s not.” Madison pushed back her shoulders and looked at her straight on. “May I please have another card? Just to double-check my results.”
Mrs. Amy bit her lip like she was about to say no, but she must have seen the determination in Madison’s eyes, because instead she said, “There are a few extras on my desk.”
“Thank you.” Madison rushed to the desk, picked up another card, and brought it back to the lab table. She squeezed the tiny puncture on her index finger, glad when fresh blood popped up.
“Are you sure there was something wrong with yours?” Oliver sat on the table, watching as she redid the experiment. “I’ve never seen you mess up on a lab before.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Madison explained, mixing up the blood on the new card. “My first card was just faulty.” She set it down and waited a minute for her real result.
But it was the same as before—AB positive.
She set her hands down on the table and glared at the card. They’d been studying blood types for a week, and she fully understood the unit. These results were impossible. She must be doing something wrong.
Mrs. Amy walked over to Madison’s lab table. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t think I’m doing the lab correctly.” Madison’s cheeks flushed, and she could barely bring herself to meet her teacher’s eyes.
“Let me take a look.” Mrs. Amy picked up both blood type cards and examined them. Madison’s heart pounded while she waited for her opinion, and she drummed her fingers on the table. “Nothing’s wrong with your results,” she said. “You did the lab perfectly, as always.”
Madison’s lungs squeezed so tightly that she could barely get any air. Normally, she expected her teachers to praise her in science class. But those results couldn’t be accurate.
Everyone in the class was staring at her. Not wanting to cause a scene, she swallowed and forced herself to take a few steady breaths. “Thanks,” she somehow managed to reply. Luckily, another student raised a hand and asked Mrs. Amy a question, which moved the attention away from Madison.
“Is everything okay?” Oliver asked once Mrs. Amy had walked away.
“I’m not sure.” Madison’s hand trembled as she picked up the card and stared at it blankly. “But I think I’m going to have to cancel on our plans tonight.”
* * *
Madison’s parents were working at the hospital and wouldn’t be back until later that night, so she watched movies by herself as she waited. She had what she called the Trifecta of Movies to Watch When in a Bad Mood—Pride and Prejudice, Titanic and Moulin Rouge. Whenever she watched those three movies, she forgot about her life and focused on the lives of the characters, drawn into their worlds and problems.
Her friends had texted to ask why she wasn’t coming out, but they’d stopped bothering her once she told them she wasn’t feeling well. Which was the truth, because her head had been pounding ever since she’d done the genetics lab. And when she’d gotten back home to the condo in the Diamond Residences—although sometimes it still felt strange to think of the three-bedroom penthouse as home, since they’d moved there a few months ago—she’d done something she’d resisted for months and ordered Dominos pizza. Sure, the condo had a room-service menu full of food from the five-star restaurants in the Diamond, but Madison loved Dominos.
After devouring the entire large by herself, she’d crawled into a baggy sweatshirt so that she wouldn’t have to be disgusted by her bloated stomach rolling over her jeans. She would have to go on a fruit-and-veggie cleanse for the next two days to remove all that grease and fat from her body.
She’d finished watching Pride and Prejudice and was halfway through Titanic when her parents walked through the door, still dressed in their scrubs. They worked at the same hospital—her dad as the head of neurology and her mom as an anesthesiologist—and got similar schedules when they could. They were chatting as they walked inside but quieted when they saw Madison slouched on the couch with a movie on and an empty pizza box on the coffee table. She paused the movie, the food swirling inside her stomach as she thought how to begin the conversation she had to have with them. She felt so nauseated that she worried she might throw up—which, after how much she’d eaten, wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“Madison,” her mom said, placing her purse on the kitchen counter. “What are you doing home on a Friday night? Don’t you have plans with your friends?”