by Laura Dower
The flight attendant came over and made sure Madison was okay leaving the plane. Of course, she was. After all, she wasn’t a little kid. The walk to the gate seemed to take an eternity. And then Madison strolled out under the bright fluorescent lights of the airport.
Madison made her way to the baggage-claim area, accompanied by a nice lady who worked for the airline. As Madison came into view, Dad and Stephanie waved madly. “Here! Over here, Maddie!” Dad shouted.
Madison broke into a grin and raced over to her father. The three of them squeezed together in a hug and then went to get Madison’s luggage. As they walked over to the baggage carousel, Madison searched the crowd for Wally. But he was nowhere to be found.
They got Madison’s suitcase and headed outside to the parking lot. The air was like mashed potatoes—sticky and thick. No breezes blew.
“Welcome to Florida in the summer,” Dad announced. “Not my first choice, but it’s a lot cooler by the water where we’re staying. We’re in this area where the Indian River meets the ocean. No matter how hot it gets, there’s always some kind of breeze. You’ll love it.”
“So, Madison, did you have a pleasant trip?” Stephanie asked.
“Yes,” Madison said. “I sat next to this really old guy. He talked a lot. But he was cool. Actually, he talked a lot about animals.”
“Did you tell him you were going to Camp Sunshine?” Stephanie asked.
“Why would she tell him about Camp Sunshine?” Dad interjected.
“Because,” Stephanie said. “She was making conversation.”
“Anyway …” Madison said in a cheery voice. She leaned toward the front seat a little bit.
“Hey,” Dad cautioned, “shouldn’t you have your seat belt on?”
Madison leaned back and buckled up. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“No,” Dad said. “I didn’t mean to snap. You hungry?”
Stephanie turned around. “You e-mailed your dad about going to that cool restaurant we were telling you about,” she said, “so we made a reservation.”
“The place is called Seashores,” Dad said. “You’ll love it.”
“Way cool,” Madison said, gazing out of the car window. She stared at the scenery as they drove away from the airport.
Madison saw rows of lush palm trees and bougainvillea. She saw brightly colored stucco homes and office buildings with enormous shutters. She knew that hurricane season was there, although Dad assured her that the forecasters had predicted no major storms for the month of August—at least not yet.
After a short drive, they drove up a long ramp on to an enormous bridge. There was water everywhere Madison looked. Off in the horizon she saw the ocean, foamy waves breaking at the shore. All along the edge of the water, set back from the beach, Madison spotted apartment buildings and mansions. She could see everything from way up there on the bridge. Dad slowed the car down and pointed to a small, overgrown island in the center of the river under the bridge.
“That’s called Pelican Isle,” Dad said. “I just found out about it. I think Camp Sunshine takes a boat trip near there.”
“Really?” Madison asked, nose pressed to the window.
“The more I hear about this camp,” Stephanie said, “the more impressed I am. In fact, your father and I were just taking a look at the camp brochure before we picked you up at the airport.”
“You were?”
“I want this to be a special summer trip for you,” Dad said, reaching back for Madison’s hand.
Madison took his hand and smiled.
“Thanks, Dad,” she said. “I know it will be.”
She let go of Dad’s hand and hunkered down again in the backseat. She stared out the window and counted the other small islands dotting the river. If only it hadn’t been so terribly hot there in Florida, Madison thought. She was grateful that Dad and Stephanie had the air-conditioning on high just then. It would take her time to get used to the temperature—lots of time.
Madison wished her laptop had been working better, or, rather, working at all. She’d tried it once on the airplane (when Wally had gotten up to stretch his legs), but it had just sizzled and gone off before she had had a chance to log on. If it had been working, Madison could have e-mailed everyone right now: Aimee, Fiona, Lindsay, and even Bigwheels, her long-distance keypal. If Madison’s pals couldn’t be there with her in the car, or at camp, then she craved the next best thing: virtual contact.
Dad and Stephanie drove north. After a while, they finally pulled the car into the jam-packed parking lot of the restaurant. Madison saw a huge sign in the shape of a swordfish. It said SEASHORES. A parking valet dressed in a flowered shirt and shorts took Dad’s car as the three of them headed inside.
Dad had told Madison that not only was the food at Seashores delicious, but also the restaurant was known as one of the best waterfront dining locations on the coast. The front of the restaurant was a designated waiting room, since the lines for dinner were always longer than long. Madison dipped her fingers into a tank full of skate fish and stroked the smooth tops of a few while she waited with Dad and Stephanie for their table. Then she gazed at an enormous lobster aquarium off on one side of the waiting area. Lobsters climbed all over each other in a kind of tank dance.
As Madison stared at the tank for at least five minutes, she imagined Aimee back home, dancing. She thought about Fiona, too, arriving at the Los Angeles airport armed with a soccer ball, her lucky stuffed bear, and her annoying twin brother, Chet. And she imagined Lindsay making her way through the London airport with her nose stuck in a book, as usual.
Were her BFFs thinking of Madison, too, at that exact moment?
She hoped so.
Although they were all so far away, Madison felt her BFFs close to her, like warm breath. They were as close as the green-black lobsters, the wide ocean, and the promise of the unexpected at Camp Sunshine.
Somehow, knowing they were out there—anywhere—made all the difference.
Chapter 4
THE MORNING AFTER ARRIVING in Florida, Madison awoke to bright sunlight pouring into her room at Dad’s rental apartment. The walls were painted salmon pink, so when the early light hit them, everything turned a sort-of-pink hue, too, including Madison’s skin tone.
Mmmm.
Madison sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Without a pug to nuzzle her toes in the morning, Madison felt a little lost, but she could hear the ocean, and that made up a little bit for missing Phin. Easy, pounding surf could be very calming and exciting all at the same time. The morning put a fresh face on everything. She was there! Camp was there!
Rereading the Camp Sunshine flyer in the car the night before had made everything sound amazing all over again. Madison had nearly forgotten about the planned bird-watching and manatee-watching and about spying on really big turtles. With so much to do, she’d have no time to stress out about her friends or to miss Hart, would she? And the previous night’s dinner at the seaside restaurant had sealed the deal. Just touching those skates in their aquarium had turned Madison from Far Hills computer girl to Florida nature girl like that.
However, when Mom had called to check in, Madison had expressed doubts about being in Florida. That was when Mom had reminded Madison about one of Gramma Helen’s favorite aphorisms: “Positive-think—and your ship won’t sink.”
Gramma Helen’s words of wisdom made Madison laugh. They were a lot like the words of wisdom Wally had dished out on the plane. Madison shut her eyes and tried to remember—word for word—what it was that Wally had said. She wanted to write a few of Wally’s wise words down for posterity. With her laptop on her lap, Madison smoothed out the coverlet on the bed, pressed the power key, and waited for something to happen.
When she saw the laptop light go on, Madison breathed a sigh of relief, although she wondered if the computer were simply giving some kind of great big show before it conked out again.
Would it be working when she needed it most? Or not?
Over t
he next two weeks, Madison would almost certainly have to pester Dad to let her use his computer when hers wasn’t working properly. And she would have to do it often—just so that she could check to see when and how many times her friends had e-mailed her from their different corners of the planet.
But for now … she had a file to write.
Summer Vacation (So Far)
Just one more day of free time before camp starts.
My gloom and doom prediction: RAIN for the first day of Camp Sunshine.
Oh! Am I just being bitter right now because a little, teeny piece of me misses Far Hills—and my crush—so much??? Aaaaaaaah!
Vacations are always this major conflict for me. I love trying new things (sometimes). But I love the warm, fuzzy, familiar things WAY better. It’s too bad there’s no one super special to share it with me.
Rude Awakening: Someone once said absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I wonder: does it make the Hart (as in Jones) grow fonder, too?
Okay, I’m being ridiculous. I haven’t even been here a full day and already I’m making a mega-drama about Hart and me being separated. I have to stop. All that drama queen stuff belongs to my mortal enemy, Poison Ivy, right? Not moi. LOL.
Dad’s apartment is roomy, to say the least. Ha! It’s MEGA! He and Stephanie rented it from some music producer guy (he owed Dad a favor, apparently). There is the best stereo system and ridiculously huge TV that takes up an entire WALL. It’s about twice as big as Dad’s place in Far Hills anyway. Plus, it has a lap pool outside and this huge patio.
Now that I am here, I’m nervous about camp. I’m hoping (fingers and toes crossed, natch) that the other kids will be cooler than cool. I mean, new friends in Florida won’t be half as cool as old friends back home, but
Madison paused and stared at what she’d written. She heard a knock, very soft, at her bedroom door.
“Maddie, are you up yet?”
Stephanie gently pushed the door open and saw Madison sitting there under the covers, laptop on her knees.
“I woke up and decided to check my e-mail,” Madison said with a wide yawn. “Before my laptop crashes again.”
“I should have known,” Stephanie said with a smile. She pulled the drapes open in Madison’s room, and even more light flooded inside.
Madison shielded her eyes. She snapped her laptop shut and jumped out of bed. There was a crystal-clear view of the pool and patio from her window.
“Your dad had to head out for an emergency business meeting this morning,” Stephanie said.
“He’s not here?” Madison asked.
Stephanie shook her head. “It’s just us girls, at least this morning. So I was thinking that maybe we could have a girls’ day out. We could take a long walk on the beach, maybe collect a few seashells?”
“A walk sounds good,” Madison said cheerily. She needed to do something besides sit inside and brood about Hart.
“I can show you the little beach town and we can stop for lunch at Lemon Drop,” Stephanie went on. “It’s this old rock-and-roll-diner-style restaurant downtown.”
“Sounds fab,” Madison nodded in agreement. “You always have good ideas.”
Stephanie left Madison to get dressed. They agreed to head out in a half hour—just enough time for Madison to grab cereal and for Stephanie to make herself another enormous cup of espresso. This apartment had one of those fancy coffee machines, too, of course.
It was only ten in the morning and the beach was already steamy-hot. The sun pounded down on the back of Madison’s neck. She could practically feel the sunburn happening. They walked for about half a mile along the beach, kicking around in the foamy tide and scanning the beach for colored shells and beach glass. Madison spotted a large piece of blue glass that was shaped like a heart. She shoved it deep into the pocket of her shorts.
I can give this piece to Hart, she thought. It was his favorite color—and the perfect shape, to boot.
Stephanie found a large conch shell. There was a chip on one side but it was, for the most part, intact. Madison held it up to her ear.
“I remember when I was a little girl, Mom told me that you could hear the ocean inside one of these,” Madison mused.
Stephanie laughed. “But you can!” she insisted. “Can’t you?”
Madison laughed, too.
There were not many other people on the beach. It was a little too hot, even for the locals. There was a slight breeze along the water, however, that made the temperature more bearable. Madison figured it was just a matter of getting used to things. After a short time, she was actually beginning to like the heat. It helped that Stephanie had lent her a large straw hat that kept the bright sun off Madison’s face.
Stephanie already had a flawless tan. She worked out at the gym every day, and her browned skin accentuated the look of her curves and muscles. Madison thought Stephanie looked a little bit like a model, especially in her white bikini and flashy green sarong. Sometimes Madison wondered how Dad could have married someone who was so different—who looked so different—from Mom.
Madison looked down at her own bathing-suit top. It was polka-dotted with a gold loop tied at the center. She’d found it on the sale rack at the mall just the week before, when Mom and she had gone shopping together for her camp stay. The bottoms were more like shorts than bikini pants. Madison liked the way it fit.
“Look!” Stephanie cried, pointing ahead of them on the sand.
A clear, corked bottle had washed up on the shore. Madison raced over to it and looked inside.
“Oh, wow!” Madison cried, breathlessly. “There’s something inside!” She fingered the cork, but it wouldn’t come out. Stephanie came over to help. She was able to wedge the cork out with a loud pop.
The two exchanged excited glances.
“What do you think it is?” Stephanie asked Madison.
“A note! A real note in a bottle!” Madison cried.
Stephanie stuck her fingers inside and grabbed the note with a long fingernail. Madison was so excited about the discovery that she started jumping up and down.
“What does it say? What does it say?” Madison asked.
Stephanie unraveled the note. It smelled a lot like fishy seawater, although it was as dry as a bone. The ink was not smudged, but the handwriting was very sloppy.
To someone else:
I am at the beach w/ my family and thought it would be fun 2 write in a bottle just like this. So here I am in the Bahamas and where r u? Send me a note back in a bottle 2, ok? I will be waiting.
Bye,
Jonas
“I’ll be waiting?” Madison furrowed her brow. “That doesn’t make any sense. Does it?”
Stephanie laughed. “Looks like someone was having a bit of fun,” she said. “I’ll bet Jonas is on vacation with his parents—and bored.”
“But he actually thinks someone will write back to him in another bottle?” Madison asked.
“Apparently so,” Stephanie replied. “Silly boy.”
Madison and Stephanie looked at each other and burst into laughter.
Although Madison was tempted to shove the note back into the bottle and toss the bottle back into the sea, she didn’t. Instead, she clutched it in one hand. She decided to keep it. She wanted to write about it in one of her files. Maybe the bottle was a good omen.
The sand felt gritty under Madison’s toes as she and Stephanie walked further down the beach. By now, they had collected not only a conch shell, the note in the bottle, numerous shards of beach glass, and smaller shells, but they’d also found thirty cents, an old silver barrette, and a lot of seaweed. They were careful to sidestep the little patches of tar on the beach.
An hour later, Stephanie suggested that they go on to Lemon Drop for some food and drink. Madison was parched. No sooner had they sat down than she drank an entire glass of water in one gulp.
The waitress took their orders and then brought two extra-large glasses of lemonade.
“I am
so glad you’re here, Maddie,” Stephanie said, “and I know your dad is glad, too.”
“Is that why he’s at work? On a Sunday?” Madison said. She hadn’t meant to sound snappish, but that was the way it came out.
Stephanie frowned. “It couldn’t be helped, Maddie,” Stephanie explained. “He’s in some negotiations with a client this week. You know that.”
“I know,” Madison said. She was used to both of her parents working all the time, overtime. But then again, Stephanie was there. That counted for a lot.
“You haven’t told me anything about what’s going on back at home,” Stephanie said. “I mean, you covered all the basics at dinner last night, but I want to know the real, undercover scoop. For example, how is that boy you like? Isn’t his name Hart?”
“Yes. Hart,” Madison said softly. “You remembered.”
“Of course,” Stephanie said with a nod. “How is he?”
“Same,” Madison said, giving hardly any answer at all. She always felt self-conscious discussing boyfriends and crushes with grown-ups.
“Maybe you’ll meet another boy at camp this summer,” Stephanie said.
“Maybe,” Madison said blankly. Inside her head, she was screaming, But how? There is no other boy for me!
The waitress brought their chicken-salad sandwiches with pickles and chips on the side.
“So, do you miss your friends yet?” Stephanie asked. She was hitting all the sensitive subjects.
Madison nodded. “I do.”
“When I was your age, I used to go away to camp during the summers in Texas,” Stephanie said. “My camp was called Home on the Range. Each summer I looked forward to camp for one big reason—and it wasn’t the horses.”
Madison giggled. “Was it because of a boy?” she asked.
“You betcha,” Stephanie said, putting on her Texas twang. “I spent three whole summers pining after this one cute boy named Jed. He was one of the best riders at camp.”
