by Laura Dower
The funny thing is that I called up Fiona and Aim and they both had a relapse, too. Fiona said she’s not moving out of bed and her Dad moved the TV into her bedroom. And Aimee’s mom made her these all-natural health elixirs from stuff like alfalfa and wheatgrass and chamomile. Gross.
Maybe I better listen to Gramma Helen next time she tells me how to get better.
Madison looked over at her bedroom clock. She debated whether or not to call Fiona or Aimee again, but decided against it since she’d already spoken to her BFFs twice that day.
Madison was starting to feel claustrophobic. She still had not changed out of the confetti-print pajamas from the night before, and her hair felt a little greasy. Being sick usually meant being lazy, especially when it came to clothes. Madison could live in the same T-shirt for a day…. or two … or more. But even she had to admit it was becoming grosser than gross. She’d take a shower later, she decided.
Madison was putting off the shower for the moment so that she could log on to her laptop again. Since she’d gotten sick, Madison had been spending a lot of her time online.
FROM SUBJECT
JeffFinn How’s My Girl?
Bigwheels Hope Ur Feeling Better
Madison was happy to see that Dad had sent a get-well-soon e-mail. She missed him.
From: JeffFinn
To: MadFinn
Subject: How’s My Girl?
Date: Fri 26 Sept 9:09 AM
How do you cure a headache? Put your head through a window and the pane will disappear—HA-HA-HA! Like I told you on the phone, I’ve been swamped at meetings the last 24 hrs or so. I’m off to see another client in a few minutes! But I miss you so much. I’ve been thinking of you. Stephanie says you haven’t called so I assume that means you and Mom and Gramma Helen have things under control. Good!
What did the doc say after your second checkup? I’m coming back after the weekend so we have to plan dinner and a sleepover at our place when you feel good. That way I can make up for not being there to give you TLC right now.
I love you so much. Give Phin a hug for me.
Dad
Bigwheels had sent e-mail, too. Madison couldn’t believe it when she opened it up. The note was short and sweet with an attached musical message. When Madison clicked on the message icon, the song “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” started to play while Bigwheels’s words scrolled across the screen:
I said to get better soon. So what happened?
Yours till the coffee cakes,
Vicki aka Bigwheels.
Madison chuckled. She was about to hit REPLY when a message popped up.
It was Lindsay. She was writing from the media lab at school. Madison guessed it was Lindsay’s free period.
Madison took a deep breath. She paused at the keyboard, unsure about what to write next.
Madison’s head whirled. She was beginning to wish her Hart crush were still a secret. Plus, she had a new guy on her mind now.
Josh.
She didn’t really know Josh, but a little voice inside Madison’s head told her that he was someone special. She imagined what they would look like together, walking down the street with their dogs. Having a ninth grader boyfriend would be cooler than cool.
Maybe even cooler than Hart, Madison thought.
Madison closed her eyes and tried to picture Josh hugging her. She pictured his brown eyes (that was a guess—she didn’t know his real eye color—yet), his broken-in sneakers, and his leather jacket. What kind of real date would they go on? Where would Josh take her? What would she wear?
Since she didn’t feel like writing back to anyone or looking up information for their optical illusions project, Madison perched on her window seat with her legs crossed, her eyes on Josh’s window. He would be home from school soon, Madison hoped. She waited and waited, hoping for a glimpse.
Maybe he had a tuba lesson? Madison snickered. She couldn’t picture that cute ninth grader stuck behind an enormous musical instrument like a tuba.
Madison glanced outside. She spotted someone headed toward the front porch.
Egg! Madison picked herself up and went downstairs to see what he wanted, but before she could intercept him, he had come and gone. She found Friday’s packet of homework on the porch with a simple note that said. Here you go. See ya. Egg.
Madison picked up the homework and dumped it on the hall chair. She couldn’t do math problems now. She needed to get back upstairs to spy on Josh. He’d be home soon.
She was about to head upstairs when she heard voices. Mom and Gramma were in the kitchen talking. Their voices seemed to get louder. Madison stood just outside the kitchen door, eavesdropping.
She was acting like a super spy now.
“Mother,” Madison heard Mom yell at Gramma. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything. I told you my work on this documentary is important.”
“As important as your kids?” Gramma asked.
“Kid,” Mom corrected her. “I have one.”
“And now you have to go out of town?” Gramma asked.
The room was silent. Madison wondered why Mom hadn’t answered. She peered around a corner.
“I hate leaving,” Mom said. “But yes, I really have to go.”
“I don’t understand you sometimes, Francine,” Gramma said.
“Well I don’t understand why you have to put me on the defensive, Mother! Can we just drop it?”
Madison’s stomach did a flip-flop. She hated arguments. It reminded her of the times just before Mom and Dad had divorced, when they had argued at least twice a day.
Madison popped into the kitchen. “Hi!” she said cheerily, trying to catch them off guard. It used to work well with Mom and Dad. It seemed to work okay with Mom and Gramma, too.
Mom grabbed the counter. “Oh! Maddie! How long were you standing there, honey bear?”
“Standing where?” Madison asked, playing dumb.
“We were just making dinner,” Gramma said, h
umming a little.
“Oh, yeah …” Mom said. “Dinner.” She moved around the counter and reached into a cabinet for a big pot in which to boil corn on the cob.
“Were you just outside?” Gramma asked. “I thought I heard the screen door slam.”
“My friend Egg dropped off my homework,” Madison said. “I saw him from the upstairs window. I saw you, too, walking Phin.”
“Oh, yes,” Gramma said. “This pug and I have become fast friends again.”
Phin let out a little whimper. He was curled up by his favorite place in the kitchen, which was next to the dishwasher during the drying cycle.
“I have to make a quick phone call, Mother,” Mom said. “I’ll be right back to help with the salad.”
Gramma nodded as Mom left the room.
“So … how are you feeling?” Gramma asked Madison.
“You don’t have to pretend,” Madison said. “I heard everything.”
“What are you talking about?” Gramma said, looking confused.
“I heard you and Mom arguing,” Madison admitted. “Mom wasn’t being very nice to you.”
“Maddie,” Gramma said gently. “Your mother is under a lot of stress right now.”
“She never has time for me,” Madison said.
Gramma’s face looked stunned. “Is that what you really think?” Gramma asked. “Because she has to work a lot?”
Madison nodded. “Sometimes,” she said.
“Hmmm,” Gramma said. “Well, that isn’t good. You can’t walk around being secretly mad at your mother, can you?”
“Why not?” Madison grumbled. “I’m sick.”
Gramma chuckled. “I guess you do. Maddie, try to understand that your mother is very busy right now. It doesn’t mean she loves you less because she isn’t here in the house all the time. Or because she sends for me when she has a work conflict. You do understand that, don’t you?”
Madison gulped and nodded. She did understand. It just bugged her.
Gramma gave Madison a squeeze. “I’m here right now. What can I do for you?”
Madison squeezed back. “Nothing,” she said.
Gramma started chopping up tomatoes. “Maddie, I think it’s time to take your medicine.” She handed her a little cup.
Madison took the pill and headed back upstairs to close her laptop and clean up her room a little bit. She hadn’t coughed in almost half an hour. It was like a new world record. She was glad that Gramma had brought her portable vaporizer. That was making a big difference.
Josh’s bedroom window was open. She didn’t see any motion at first. But after a moment, out of nowhere, Josh appeared.
Madison grinned. Could he see her again?
The answer was obviously yes. Josh pulled up a yellow cardboard sign with one big, black word.
WHASSUP?
Madison giggled. She was more prepared to communicate now than she had been the day before. Madison took a sheet of paper and wrote her own word back.
HELLO
Even across their two yards, Madison could see Josh’s bright, wide smile. He really was cute. Josh held up another sign.
NAME?
Madison grinned. She briefly contemplated calling herself something different and mysterious, like Natasha, but in the end she wrote her real name.
MADISON
Then she wrote another question.
YOU?
Josh frantically scribbled his reply. Of course, Madison knew that answer in advance.
JOSH
They wrote one- and two-word notes to each other back and forth for a few minutes, mostly joking around. As they “chatted,” the sun began to fade in the sky. Josh turned on his lamp. His room was flooded with yellow light. Madison walked away from the window for a moment to turn on her light, too.
When she came back. Josh was gone. His light had been shut off. His blinds were drawn.
This wasn’t a good sign.
Madison stared and stared so long that she thought her eyes might stay stuck wide open. Was he coming back again?
Phinnie barked. He chased his tail around in circles. He liked to do that sometimes when he was hungry. Madison played with Phin on the carpet, but kept glancing over at Josh’s window—just in case.
No luck.
After dinner with Mom and Gramma, Madison checked the window again to see if Josh might have been there. When she didn’t see any signs of life (or light), Madison crashed on top of the quilt on her bed and made a secret wish.
I wish that Josh Turner would fall madly in love with me.
Madison felt a little dizzy. Her eyes got heavier than heavy.
And soon Madison Francesca Finn herself was out like a light.
Chapter 8
WHEN MADDIE OPENED HER eyes it was Saturday morning. Gramma stood over her, fluffing pillows.
“You fell asleep on top of the covers?” Gramma asked.
Madison was only half awake. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled to Gramma. “I’m warm enough. Don’t worry.”
“Maddie, I’m here to worry!” Gramma insisted.
Gramma chased Phin out of the room so she could gather clothes from the hamper. She straightened the books on Madison’s shelf.
Slowly, Madison dragged herself off the bed. “I don’t feel so good, though,” she said. “I’m achy again.”
“Well, I’m not surprised,” Gramma said. “You probably caught a draft lying on top of the blankets instead of under them.”
“Gramma, I already told you, I’m warm. Mom has the heat up.”
“Tell you what! I’ll make you one of my super-booster smoothies this morning. There’s a load of vitamins in that shake.”
“Okay,” Madison agreed. “What day is it? Is it Saturday?” She’d lost track.
Gramma nodded.
“How’s about I run you a nice, hot eucalyptus bath?” Gramma asked, fluffing Madison’s pillows for a second time.
“Right now?” Madison shrugged. She’d never really taken a bath in the morning. “I don’t know, Gramma,” she said, walking over to her closet. She pulled her hair back into an elastic and slid into a pair of faded jeans and a comfy green T-shirt.
“Gee, if you’re getting dressed, I guess that means no bath,” Gramma said with a smile.
Madison smiled back. “Yeah. I guess.”
“Well,” Gramma fussed at Madison’s top. “I just want you to get well, young lady,” she said, poking at buttons and picking at a thread.
Madison squirmed. She hated the way Gramma was all over her this morning. And she dreaded the thought that her bronchitis was worse than before. That meant Gramma would keep picking and poking and running baths and vaporizers and …
“What else do you need, Maddie?” Gramma asked.
“Um …” Madison said. “I’m okay, Gramma, really.”
“But you just said you’re feeling worse,” Gramma said, touching the top of Madison’s head.
Madison wanted to run. Couldn’t Gramma just leave her alone until she woke up?
“Let me go put a load of wash in the dryer,” Gramma said. “Then I’ll make you a yummy breakfast. Your mother leaves this afternoon.”
“Whatever you say, Gramma,” Madison said.
As soon as Gramma left the room, Madison scooted over to Mom’s room.
“Help!” she said as she threw herself across Mom’s bed.
“What now?” Mom said, stuffing a sweater into her suitcase.
“Mom, I love Gramma so much, but she is driving me crazy,” Madison said. She blew her nose hard.
Mom chuckled knowingly. “Oh, Gramma comes on a bit strong sometimes,” she said. “But only because she loves you.”
“She wanted me to take a bath this morning.”
“That’s not crazy,” Mom said. “You’d probably feel better.”
“She doesn’t like it when I’m always online or e-mailing my BFFs,” Madison said.
“Really? She told me she thinks it’s great that you have such a close group
of friends,” Mom said.
“Yeah, but she thinks it’s weird that I have a lot of guy friends,” Madison said.
“She does not. You’re making that up,” Mom said.
“Mom! Are you on my side or what?” Madison exclaimed.
“Who said anything about taking sides? This isn’t a war, you know,” Mom said. “Not even close.”
Lying on her back, Madison crossed her arms and pouted. “Fine, then. Go. Have a nice trip.”
“Maddie…” Mom’s voice softened. “Is that what this is really about? Me going away when you’re sick?”
Madison shook her head. “No.”
“Then, what?” Mom asked.
“What am I supposed to say to Gramma when she’s giving me all these weird homemade medicines she likes to make and putting hot cloths on my head and cleaning my room? Mom, she was cleaning my room.”
“Maddie…”
“And I’m sick of soup,” Madison moaned.
“Soup? Honey bear, Gramma is doing us a huge favor by being here. Don’t let yourself get all worked up just because she’s being overly nice. You should be grateful. I know I am.”
“I love Gramma Helen,” Madison said. “I don’t know why she just bugs me sometimes.”
“Well, if there’s a moment when she bugs you, just call me on my cell phone,” Mom said with a wink. “I finally got it fixed.”
“Do you really mean it?”
“Just think! While I’m gone, you and Gramma can talk about how much I bug you,” Mom teased.
Kicking her legs into the air, Madison bounced up and off the bed. Mom had more packing left to do.
Madison hadn’t been away from her own bedroom for very long. But in that short time, Gramma had refolded sweaters, straightened papers (including postcards tacked up on Madison’s bulletin board), and made Madison’s bed. She’d put Madison’s teddy bears on display in a row by the pillows.
Madison hadn’t had her bears on display like that since she was ten.
Mom poked her head into Madison’s room. “Did you hear the doorbell?”
Madison shook her head. “No. Isn’t Gramma downstairs?”
At that moment, Gramma appeared in the doorway, wearing a giant apron and yellow rubber gloves. “Isn’t it good luck that I brought these with me?” she asked.
