Madison’s World Redux Season 3 Episode 39

The footfalls were what Greg heard first. 

Multiple sets of shoes came careening through the front door, stomping in from the cold like a herd of water buffalo. The sound projected through the house, bouncing off the walls and rattling through the familiar spaces until it reached McKenzie’s room. 

Teenage laughter followed. 

Loud. Bright. Careless. 

A group of voices overlapped each other, all talking at once, each one fighting to be the funniest, the loudest, the most heard. Then the front door slammed shut with enough force to make Greg flinch inside the habitat. 

He stood near the front of the little enclosure McKenzie had made for him, resting on the couch as he turned off the movie he was watching on LittleFlix. 

Madison was home. 

Not just Madison. 

Her friends too. 

Down the hall, inside Madison’s room, Cindy heard it as well. 

She lifted her head from the tablet, where Brooklyn’s science notes were still open and highlighted in miserable little sections. The laughter traveled through the house with the ease of something that belonged there. 

Cindy slowly rose and crossed to the front of the habitat. She peered through the glass toward Madison’s bedroom door. 

It was sickening how little control she had now. 

Once, this house had been hers. Every room had answered to her in some way. The kitchen, the living room, the upstairs hallway, even Madison’s bedroom, though Madison had always argued that point. Cindy had been the force that set the tone. The schedule. The rules. The standards. 

Now she was reduced to a squeak behind glass. 

The teenage giggling downstairs made her tense. 

She tried not to think about Madison’s arrival, but that was impossible. Madison’s presence changed the temperature of the house now. When Madison came home happy, Cindy might have an easier evening. When Madison came home irritated, Cindy braced herself. 

And Madison had already been irritated all day. 

Cindy hated that her house had turned into a hangout spot for Madison and her friends. Worse, she hated that it had always been one. Before Smallara, she had taken it as a compliment. Her home was safe. Welcoming. The girls felt comfortable here. They raided her pantry, sprawled across her furniture, left shoes in the entryway, and treated the Wessen house like an extension of their own lives. 

Back then, Cindy had told herself it meant she had built something warm. 

Now it felt like occupation. 

She knew better than to say anything. 

Trying to act like she still ran anything would, at best, make the girls laugh like she was performing a bit. At worst, it would end with Madison punishing her, correcting her, or letting the others ridicule her until Cindy remembered exactly where she stood. 

“Do you have any Pizza Rolls? I’m starved,” Krysi’s voice cut through from downstairs. 

Cindy’s jaw tightened. 

Of course Krysi went straight to the kitchen. 

Even before Smallara, Krysi had done that. She was Madison’s closest friend, and Cindy had once been oddly proud of how naturally Krysi made herself at home here. She would walk in, kick off her shoes, call out a greeting, and head for the fridge like she belonged. 

Cindy had thought it meant Krysi felt safe and secure in the Wessen home. 

Now she heard the freezer open and felt nothing but irritation. 

“Check the big freezer,” Madison called from somewhere near the entryway. “I think Kenzie got some.” 

“Bet,” Krysi said. 

A second later, Brooklyn’s voice carried through the living room. “Are you gonna fetch Greggy?” 

Greg’s stomach tightened. 

Greggy. 

He hated when Brooklyn called him that. It was too casual, too teasing, too comfortably disrespectful. But complaining would only make it stick harder. 

From the sound of it, Brooklyn had thrown herself onto the sofa. Greg could picture it perfectly, because he had seen her do it a hundred times before. She never sat like a normal person. She launched herself, stretched across cushions, claimed space without asking. 

There was a muffled thump, followed by Brooklyn groaning dramatically. 

“I’m dead. School actually killed me.” 

“You say that every day,” Madison said. 

“And every day it’s true.” 

“Oh, I’ll grab Cindy,” Evan said. “Hang out here, Charizard.” 

Greg moved closer to the habitat wall. 

Cindy heard it too all the way in Madison’s room. 

Her hands tightened at her sides. 

Downstairs, Evan’s voice softened, the way it often did when she spoke to Charity. “Sit tight. Brooklyn’s right here, okay?” 

“Yes, Ms. Evan,” Charity answered softly. 

There was a small sound from the coffee table, probably Evan setting Charity down. Then Brooklyn said, “I got her.” 

“Don’t let her wander.” 

“Evan, she’s not a hamster.” 

“She’s tiny and anxious, so close enough.” 

“Rude,” Brooklyn said, but there was no real bite in it. 

Charity did not answer. 

Cindy could imagine her sitting on the coffee table, small and careful, while Brooklyn lounged across the sofa like the house belonged to her. The image made Cindy’s stomach twist because Charity was down there. Charity got to be with them. Charity got to be trusted on the coffee table, included in the after school chaos, present in the room where things happened. 

Cindy was upstairs waiting to be collected. 

In McKenzie’s room, Greg heard footsteps start up the stairs. 

Two sets. 

Madison’s and Evan’s. 

He knew Madison’s gait now. Quick, impatient, slightly heavy when she was in a mood. Evan’s was lighter but just as careless, her voice carrying upward as she continued talking. 

“I still think you should’ve seen Dayton’s face when I splashed her with water,” Evan said. 

“I saw enough of Dayton’s face this morning,” Madison said. 

Brooklyn shouted from downstairs, “Do not summon her!” 

Madison laughed, but it had a brief moment of trepidation like Dayton could pop out of somewhere.  
 

A few moments later, Madison pushed open the door to McKenzie’s room. 

She saw the habitat Kenzie had made for Greg sitting on the desk, the little apartment arranged neatly inside like some tiny luxury condo. It was cute. A bit overkill, but Madison knew McKenzie always went overkill for Dad. Even at Christmas, McKenzie had to get him the best gift. The most thoughtful one. The one that made everyone act like she had won daughter of the year. 

Madison pushed that thought away. 

“Hey, Dad,” Madison said warmly as she crouched down to look in at him. “You will not believe what happened today.” 

Greg had been resting on the little couch, the LittleFlix movie paused on the tablet across from him. He stood when he saw her, and Madison opened the habitat. Instead of reaching in and grabbing him right away, she set her hand inside for him to climb onto. 

Greg looked at her hand for a second before stepping onto her palm. 

The warmth hit him immediately as Madison lifted him out of the habitat. She carried him over to the bed and sat on the corner, holding him carefully in both hands. 

“I started the day so bad,” Madison said. “You probably heard us come in. Sorry. We were super loud.” 

“I noticed,” Greg said with a small smile. 

Madison gave him a look. “Okay, don’t say it like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like a dad.” 

Greg chuckled. “I am your dad.” 

Madison looked down at him for half a second, and for once she did not correct him. 

“Anyway,” she said, settling him more comfortably in her palm. “I ran into the Shark. You know Dayton Harris, right?” 

“Yeah,” Greg said. “You’ve mentioned her before. Pointed her out a few times too. I even remember you ducking down under the car window when you saw her uptown one afternoon.” 

Madison’s mouth fell open. “I was not hiding.” 

Greg raised an eyebrow. 

“I dropped something,” Madison said. “And that’s the story I’m sticking to.” 

“Of course.” 

Madison rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. “Well, I was distracted this morning because of the whole McKenzie thing, and I just careened right into her. It was my fault, fine. But if it was literally anyone else, it would not have been a big deal. But it was Dayton, and she had Ezra, and now it’s like I committed a federal crime.” 

Greg’s expression shifted. “Ezra is her Little, right?” 

“Mr. Rhys, yeah,” Madison said. “He was fine. I didn’t hurt him. I didn’t even really hit him. I just bumped into Dayton while she was holding him.” 

“That would scare anyone, Madison.” 

“It scared her for like half a second,” Madison said. “Then she went full Dayton.” 

Greg studied her. “What does full Dayton mean?” 

Madison made a face. “That thing she does. Like she’s calm, but also somehow making you feel like you’re the dumbest person alive.” 

Greg nodded slowly. “Ah.” 

“And she already has this whole thing against Charity because of Sarandipity, so anyone who even looks like they’re on Charity’s side is basically team enemy.” 

Greg tilted his head. “There may be more to that story than you know.” 

Madison groaned. “Dad.” 

“I’m just saying.” 

“Charity and Sarandipity had some fight or whatever, but Dayton acts like everything has to involve her. Like, get over it. It doesn’t even involve you.” 

“Have you tried talking to Charity about it?” 

Madison gave him a look. “Charity lost her phone before Evan got her, and Evan is, like, very Evan about Charity stuff. And Sarandipity is one of the biggest streamers right now. It’s not like I can just Google her number and be like, hey, what’s your drama with this Little at my school?” 

Greg smiled faintly. “Fair point.” 

“Exactly. Dayton just wants a reason to make things about Dayton. Everything has to be about Dayton.” 

Greg was quiet for a moment. 

Madison noticed. “What?” 

“People like Dayton are always going to exist,” Greg said carefully. “People who walk into a room and somehow the room changes around them.” 

Madison huffed. “Yeah, because everyone is scared of her.” 

“Maybe,” Greg said. “Or maybe because she believes in herself so strongly that other people react to it.” 

Madison frowned. “Are you defending her?” 

“No,” Greg said. “I’m not defending her. From what you’ve told me, she sounds like she can be a bully.” 

“She is.” 

“But,” Greg continued, “the thing that bothers you about her might not just be that she’s mean. It might be that she doesn’t look away from what she thinks matters.” 

Madison’s expression shifted, uncertain now. 

Greg looked down at his hands, then back up at her. “I looked away too much. Before all this. With your mom. With the way people talked about Littles. With things I should have questioned because they didn’t affect me directly.” 

Madison went quiet. 

“I went along with what was easy,” Greg said. “And I let myself believe that not being the one saying the worst things meant I wasn’t part of it. But that’s not really true.” 

“Dad,” Madison said softly. 

“I know I’m probably the last person who should be giving Guardian advice,” Greg said. “Littles were never my thing, and now, ironically, I am one. But your mom wasn’t right about everything. I should have done more to make that clear to both of you.” 

Madison looked away. “I’m not one hundred percent Mom.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m not,” she said again, more firmly. “Some things she said were good, but a lot of it I don’t do with you.” 

Greg smiled gently. “I know. And I appreciate that.” 

Madison looked back at him. 

“I just want you to learn from my mistakes,” Greg said. “If that makes me a hypocrite, then I guess I’m a hypocrite. But I want you to be better than I was. I want you to be the kind of person who does not look away from what matters, even when it would be easier.” 

Madison swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable with how serious everything felt. 

“I’ll try,” she said. 

Greg smiled. “That’s all I can ask.” 

Madison looked at him for another second, then cleared her throat. “Okay, emotional damage. We should go before Brooklyn sends a search party and Krysi eats all the Pizza Rolls.” 

Greg laughed. 

Madison stood, still holding him carefully. “Maybe you can have one. I know they’re your favorite.” 

“Are they still my favorite at this size, or are they just entire meals now?” 

“Both,” Madison said. “Also, I know McKenzie sneaks you people food here and there, so don’t act innocent. You’ve been double dipping from both of us.” 

Greg put a hand to his chest. “What? I would never, Ms. Wessen.” 

Madison smiled at the playful use of the title. “Sure you wouldn’t.” 

She lifted him closer and kissed the top of his head. 

For a brief moment, wrapped in the warmth of her hand and the familiar affection of his daughter, Greg forgot the habitat. Forgot the size difference. Forgot the rules and titles and all the strange new lines between them. 

For that one second, Madison was just Madison. 

His daughter. 

Then her voice dropped back into its usual teasing tone. 

“Come on, Dad. Let’s go before Brooklyn starts calling you Greggy again.” 

Greg sighed. “I was hoping we could avoid that.” 

Madison grinned as she carried him toward the door. 

“Not a chance.” 

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