by Laura Dower
Madison started to pack, but instantly became overwhelmed. She fell on to her bed and stared up at the ceiling.
“Oh … what should I bring, Phin?” Madison asked.
If dogs had really been able to talk—i.e., speak English—Phin probably would have woofed, “Bring me!” Unfortunately, Madison had to leave the dog in Far Hills. And he had no fashion tips.
Madison decided she didn’t have time to contemplate her wardrobe anymore. She was in a race against the clock. Madison plowed through the closet, plucking one or two sundresses off their hangers. Shorts! She grabbed some denim shorts, then black, olive green, navy, and a new pair of orange ones, and folded them together, placing them in a side section of the suitcase. A handful of white, pink, blue, and yellow T-shirts completed the pile. Then she packed a white, eyeleted top she’d gotten from Boop-Dee-Doop’s online catalog but never worn, a blue baby-doll top with spaghetti straps, a pair of faded jeans, a long pair of linen pants (perfect for dinner out with Dad and Stephanie), and a dozen or so other tops and bottoms, including a pair of shocking-pink capri pants that she loved to wear—even if she probably would have to endure being compared to a flamingo at some point during the trip.
Madison wondered what the other kids at Camp Sunshine would be like. Since there was no stringent prerequisite for admission to the camp except for a basic love of science, Madison guessed that the group of kids she met would be just like her—only from different parts of the U.S. Or would they? The more she thought about leaving the comfort of Far Hills for the sticky, slimy heat of Florida in summer, the more Madison began to doubt.
For starters, how could she make it without her BFFs so far from home? Could she last two whole weeks without her beloved Phinnie? Way back in the spring, when Dad had suggested the camp stay—to coincide with a short business trip and a vacation that he and Stephanie were taking in Florida—Madison had been thrilled to sign up. She had relished the idea of beach walks and long talks with Dad under the palm trees. But now—now that camp was really and truly here, she wasn’t so sure. The only thing she was certain to get in Florida was sunburned.
Madison climbed on top of her stuffed suitcase and pushed down hard so she could zip up the side. It was a delightful sound, that final zzzzzzzip, and she was happier than happy finally to be packed. After shoving a pair of flip-flops and a pair of sneakers into one of the outside pockets, Madison gave herself a thumbs-up. The hardest part was done.
Madison had only two hours before her departure.
She turned once again to her laptop, frantically checking to make absolutely sure that she had all the e-mail addresses and other information she needed to keep updating her files during the two-week trip. Then she logged on to TweenBlurt.com. To Madison’s surprise, her e-mailbox was no longer empty.
FROM SUBJECT
JeffFinn C U Soon
BalletGrl I luv u more than ballet
GoGramma My new e-mail address
The first, from Dad, was about the trip, of course. Madison hit REPLY.
From: MadFinn
To: JeffFinn
Subject: Re: C U Soon
Date: Sat 7 Aug 12:45 PM
Dad, you are sooooo funny. Quit making me NERVOUS writing to me right before I get on the plane! :>) Yes, I remembered to pack everything the camp requested that we bring. (I have the checklist in case we need it.) I have one fat suitcase and I’m carrying my sleeping bag as a carry-on along with my orange bag and laptop. BTW: Thanks for reminding me about the security at the airport. I’ll wear rubber-soled sandals so I don’t set off the machines. Duh I almost forgot when I did that last time and U got so freaked out when they pulled me aside and opened all my bags. As if I was some kind of security risk, right? Guess it’s better 2 B safe but still …
OK I am so rambling. FYI I will be in West Palm Bch around 8 PM I guess or sooner. You better check. Will Stephanie come 2 the airport? Can we go to dinner @ that cool place u told me about?
See you at the baggage claim. Don’t be LATE :>)
xox
Maddie
Madison clicked SEND. Then she looked at the next e-mail, from Aimee. She laughed to herself when she reread the subject line.
From: BalletGrl
To: MadFinn, Wetwinz, LuvNstuff
Subject: I luv u more than ballet
Date: Sat 7 Aug 12:49 PM
Seriously!!! I do!!! OMG that was THE BEST sleepover EVER, Maddie. Right? U know it’s totally not me to be the mushiest of the BFF group but I am feeling sososososo sad AND 100% mushy right now knowing I won’t see ANY of u for like 2 wks. OMGOMGOMG! I’m crying right now I swear. My brothers think I am the hugest LAME-O. But u understand, doncha? I so wish I wasn’t the only one sticking around here in Far Hills. *sigh* E ME from the airplane! LOL J/K.
LYLAS,
Aim
There was an e-mail from Gramma Helen, too, but Madison had only just clicked on it when she heard the doorbell downstairs. She stopped to listen.
“Hello,” she heard Mom say; her voice was friendly, but faraway. Madison couldn’t hear anything else she was saying. She figured the person at the door was someone from Budge Films, or maybe just the mailman or the delivery guy.
“Maddie?”
Madison pricked up her ears. Mom was calling her. Maybe Aimee was there? That would be just like Aimee to write a sappy e-mail and then dash over to Madison’s house in person so she could embarrassingly take it all back. Chuckling to herself, Madison leaped off her bed and went into the hall.
“Did you call me, Mom?” Madison asked from the top of the stairs.
“I sure did,” Mom said, coming into view. “You have a visitor.”
Madison grinned and bounded down the stairs. “I know who it is,” Madison said with a smile. “Aimee, you just couldn’t stay away, could you?”
All at once, Madison stopped. It wasn’t Aimee.
It was Hart. Hart.
“Sorry to just come over like this, Finnster,” Hart said. “I tried e-mailing you, but it kept coming back to me. I think my e-mail account is messed up. Sorry.”
“Um … that’s okay.”
Madison didn’t know what else to say—she was that surprised. Her mind was spinning like a hamster’s wheel. All she could think about was how cute Hart looked in his skater T-shirt and long shorts. His hair was growing out a little bit. He had one of those dreamy tans. She hadn’t really noticed it until just then.
“Anyway,” Hart went on, “I forgot that I wasn’t going to see you for a few weeks. I didn’t want you to leave without saying good-bye.”
“Oh,” Madison bowed her head down. “That was so nice.”
Hart reached for Madison’s hand. She gave it to him and he squeezed it. But then Mom walked back into the room and they both let go—right away.
“So, Hart, are you staying? Should I make a snack?” Mom asked. It was a little after two-thirty in the afternoon.
Madison hoped he would say, “I’m totally here for a snack, and in fact, I’ve decided that I’m following Madison to Florida, because I can’t bear to be without her. …” As usual, she was letting her imagination run wild. But Hart wasn’t really saying anything like that.
Hart shrugged. “I can’t really stay that long,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to … um … you know … um …”
“What?” Mom crossed her arms.
Madison took a breath. Why wasn’t Mom going back into the kitchen and leaving her and Hart alone? Just her presence was making Hart super nervous.
“Yeah. So …” Hart said, turning to Madison.
“So …” Madison said.
“So?” Mom said. She still didn’t get it. Madison wanted to wail—loudly.
“Okay. Well. I better go,” Hart said. “I just wanted to say, like I said, I wanted to stay, I mean, say …”
Mom looked at Hart. Then, as if hit by a lightning bolt, she finally—finally—got it. She glanced at Madison, who made a face that said, Please, please leave ri
ght now, Mom, so I can be alone with the boy I have had a crush on for as long as I can remember.
“Oh, my goodness, I just remembered I left something on the stove,” Mom said quickly.
Good lie, Mom.
No, it was a great lie. Mom disappeared back into the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry,” Madison stammered. She smiled at Hart. “Um … you were saying …”
Hart reached for her hand again right away.
“What I was saying was …” Hart looked around nervously. “Is your mom gone for real or is she gonna jump out from behind the couch?”
“She’s gone,” Madison reassured him with a laugh.
Hart appeared convinced. “What I wanted to say was that … well … I want to remember you, you know, just like this, right here,” Hart said.
Madison felt her stomach flip-flop.
“You want to remember me standing here in my hallway?” Madison joked nervously.
Now his fingers were both squeezing and pulling. Was Hart pulling her toward him?
Madison froze.
Hart leaned forward. What was she supposed to do now? Madison was way too freaked out to register what was going on. The word kiss popped into her head, but she chased it away. This couldn’t be it, could it? Their first kiss? The moment she’d dreamed about a hundred times? Now?
“Rowwrororooooooooooo!” Phin barked. He leaped out of nowhere, right up on to Hart’s leg, nearly knocking him to the floor.
A very superstitious Madison had to take that as a sign.
Not now.
As Hart straightened up again, he clutched Phin in his arms. “Anyway,” he muttered, “you will E me, won’t you, Maddie?”
“Of course. I’ll E you every day,” Madison gushed.
She desperately wanted to throw herself forward and plant a big, fat kiss on Hart’s lips. That would have been a real movie move. But wanting to do something and actually doing it were two completely different things. This wasn’t a kiss moment, not even in slow motion. This was freeze-frame—all the way.
After another silence, the moment was completely gone.
Hart walked over to the front door. Madison followed like a puppy, and the real puppy, Phin, followed, too.
“Thanks,” Hart said for no reason. “Um …”
“No. Thanks to you for coming over. It was a total surprise. Wow.” Madison tried to fill in all of the quiet between them.
“I never expected …” she said. “Well, you know. It was so nice. You are so nice.”
“You, too. But you know that. Look, have a good time at camp,” Hart said at the doorway.
“And have a good time being a lifeguard at the pool,” Madison said.
Phin dashed over and began licking Hart’s leg. Madison tried to grab the pug, but his curlicue tail slipped through her fingers.
Hart grinned a wide grin. “I really will miss you, Finnster,” Hart said. “Really. And I’ll even miss Phin, too. Right, buddy?”
Phin panted extra hard, as if he understood.
Madison smiled at them both. “Good-bye, then.”
“Yeah … bye … for real, now,” he said, walking down the porch steps. He gave Madison a little half-salute before stuffing his hands into his cargo-shorts pockets and heading back down the street in the direction of Fiona’s and her twin brother Chet’s. Madison figured he must be going there to play Wiffle ball or video games or just to chill and talk about boy stuff, whatever that might be. She turned around and closed the front door. Her skin was all prickly—but in a good way.
“I can’t believe that just happened!” Madison gasped out loud.
Mom raced out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. “What happened?” she asked with a little wink.
“Mom!” Madison said, looking embarrassed.
“I hate to put pressure on you, honey bear, but we need to get going in the next twenty minutes or so,” Mom said. “We may hit traffic on the way to the airport. You can’t miss this plane.”
Madison glanced at the clock. It was now after three. She still needed to finish the packing and the laptop prep and go. The race was on.
Lucky for Madison, the Hart Jones butterflies still fluttering in her stomach had the power to lift her into the air, up the stairs, and right into her bedroom. That was what it felt like, anyway.
As Madison pulled together the final items for her two-week trip, she tried to imagine how Camp Sunshine could possibly make her feel any sunnier than she felt right just then.
Chapter 3
SINCE SHE WAS STILL under thirteen and flying solo, Madison needed to be escorted on to the plane earlier than the other passengers. She hated the way everyone waiting at the gate stared as the flight attendants helped her aboard. It made her feel like a little kid.
But it was very cool to board a plane that was completely empty. The air was cool, fresh. The seats were empty. She walked a short distance to the sixth row in coach. She had the window seat, as she had requested. If she was lucky, Madison would be able to catch a glimpse of the New York City skyline as the plane took off.
Slowly, after Madison had sat down, placed her carry-on bag in the overhead compartment, and made herself (and her laptop) comfortable, a steady stream of passengers entered the plane. Everyone stared again as they passed by Madison’s seat. Madison tried her best to ignore them. After a few minutes, an older man with a boarding pass in one hand and a hardcover novel in the other stopped at Madison’s row of seats.
“Excuse me, but are you in the right seat?” he croaked.
Madison grabbed her boarding pass and held it up.
“Oh, yeah,” the man sighed. “I got the aisle again. I told that travel agent I wanted the dang window. Golly.”
“I can switch if you want,” Madison said softly, trying to be nice.
The man’s face lit up. “Why, aren’t you a dear, sweet thing?” he said, clearing his throat at the same time. Then he waved her off and sat down in the aisle seat. “Not to worry. I’ll make do with the aisle seat.”
Madison giggled nervously, hoping that the man wouldn’t say anything else to her on the long flight.
But of course, that was not to be. The man, whose name Madison later discovered was Walton (or Wally, for short), was some kind of scientist. He studied wildlife. Or was it sea life? Madison wasn’t exactly sure. He was on his way to Florida to meet his wife and the rest of his family. They lived down there for part of the year. The only other thing Madison wound up knowing for sure about him was that Wally loved to talk. She listened for almost two hours to Wally’s war stories: about trips he’d taken to places like Antarctica and about really, really big fish.
It was not what Madison had expected. By the time the plane neared Florida, her ears were tired. But she listened some more anyway. She didn’t want to be rude.
“Listen to me prattle on,” Wally said as the pilot announced the initial descent to the West Palm Beach airport.
“I like it,” Madison said. “I mean, I liked your stories. I want to be a writer one day. I think. Well, a writer and a vet. And maybe a biologist. I’m not sure which.”
“Those are big dreams,” Wally said. “Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
“So, tell me something else.”
“Tell you something else?” Madison crinkled her brow and shook her head, not sure what he wanted to know. “Like what?” she asked. She felt the plane swoop down a few thousand feet more. They were almost there.
“You know, you remind me of my wife, Myrtle,” Wally said. “And my great-granddaughter, Myrtle Junior, of course.”
“Myrtle Junior?” Madison asked with a smile. “That’s different.”
“How old are you, anyway. Sixteen? Seventeen?”
Madison burst into giggles. “I’m twelve, sir,” she said.
“Ah, yes.” He waved Madison off. “These days it’s all the same to me,” he muttered, almost to himself. “When you get to be my age, everyone under sixty seems like a baby.�
��
“How old are you?” Madison asked casually, not wanting to offend him.
Wally looked at her and smiled. “Eighty-one,” he said proudly.
“You remind me a little of my Gramma Helen,” Madison said, “only older.”
“So, I guess that means we’re practically related,” Wally said.
Madison laughed again. Wally was like a lucky charm. He’d changed her mood, made her forget any airplane jitters she had had, and—most importantly—helped her get over the sadness of leaving Far Hills, her BFFs, and Hart.
The flight attendant came by and asked everyone to buckle up and prepare for landing.
As the 747 pulled up to the gate and attached itself to the proper jetway bridge, the plane began to buzz with the sounds of people shifting in their seats, unbuckling seat belts, and moving bags. Cell phones appeared like magic. Everyone seemed to have someone to call.
Wally shook his head and leaned over to Madison.
“Don’t ever let yourself get caught up in all this craziness …” He pointed to the people standing around with phones at their ears.
Madison nodded. “Oh, yeah?”
Wally squinted at her and lowered his voice some more.
“If you just stop and listen, you can change the world, you know,” he said, and Madison knew he meant it. “You’re an excellent listener. I can tell. You notice things. Things that other people don’t. I can tell.”
“So, I can change the world, huh?” Madison asked.
“You bet. All it takes is one. That’s what I always told my Myrtles,” Wally said. “You just have to understand that we’re sharing the world—all of us—the people, the animals, the water. It’s for sharing, not taking.”
Madison thought Wally sounded a little like one of the Zen philosophers Aimee’s mom liked to listen to on her meditation and yoga tapes. She was glad she’d met him.
Wally collected his things and headed for the exit along with everyone else. He gave Madison a little salute before fading into the flow of people; his gesture reminded Madison of Hart’s salute back in Far Hills. Madison’s chest tightened. Did good-byes ever get easy?
