by Laura Dower
Luckily, the time in Mrs. Wing’s technology lab zipped by. So did the rest of the day’s classes. Madison even survived her third-period math class in spite of not having completed her homework. When the final bell of the day rang, Madison rushed to her locker.
“Look out!”
Madison stopped just before colliding with Hart Jones, her longtime crush at school.
“Hey, slow down, Finnster,” Hart said, touching her arm. Lately, he’d been showing some serious signs that the crush might be mutual.
“Hi, Hart,” Madison said quietly, pulling her arm away.
“I saw you earlier today,” Hart said. “I guess you didn’t see me.”
“Oh?” Madison said. “No, I guess I didn’t. I’ve been a little preoccupied today. Sorry.”
Hart smiled. “So, what’s up? Why are you preoccupied?”
“Yes,” Madison said.
“Huh?” Hart said.
“I’m fine,” Madison said.
Hart sighed. “Actually, what I asked you was—”
“Do you ever watch Crime Time?” Madison blurted out. Sometimes, when she couldn’t think of anything else, Madison would just say the first thing that came into her head. This was one of those occasions.
“You mean the TV show?” Hart asked.
Madison nodded.
Hart shrugged. “Sometimes I watch it. When there’s nothing else on.”
“Oh,” Madison said. “There was a marathon over the weekend. I’ve seen every episode at least once.”
But Hart didn’t seem very interested in the fine points of Crime Time. In fact, he’d turned completely around and was staring in the opposite direction. Madison bit her lip. Was she boring him? She needed a better topic of conversation. Fast.
“What did you do this weekend?” Madison asked. But before Hart could answer, Poison Ivy appeared from around the corner.
Once upon a time, Ivy Daly had been Madison’s best friend. But that had all changed in third grade. Now Ivy was her number-one enemy. To make matters worse, it seemed as though Ivy always appeared when Hart was around.
“Hiya, Hart,” Ivy said, smiling sweetly. She turned to Madison and sneered.
“Hello, Ivy,” Hart replied.
“So…” Ivy said in a singsong voice. She cocked her hip, waiting for Hart’s next comment. “So?” she asked again.
But Hart didn’t say anything else. He just stared.
“I like your sweater,” Ivy told him. She batted her eyelashes.
Hart grunted a little. “Uh-huh.”
“Do you like mine?” Ivy asked, looking down at her own lavender short-sleeved top.
Madison wanted to yell, Who cares about your ugly sweater! Instead, she gritted her teeth and bit her tongue. She couldn’t lash out. Madison didn’t want Hart to think she was being mean.
Ivy was still pushing for a compliment from Hart, but he wasn’t offering any.
Madison decided to set a little trap for Ivy. She would work some reverse psychology on the enemy.
“Gee, Ivy,” Madison crooned. “Your hair looks different. What did you do?”
Ivy fell for it. She tossed her hair and grinned. “It is a great haircut, isn’t it? And my hair looks good with this outfit, doesn’t it?” she said.
Hart snickered.
Ivy glared at him. “I’m sorry,” she asked Hart. “Is something funny?”
His eyes opened wide. “Oh, no,” he said, smiling and staring straight ahead.
Madison couldn’t believe it. Usually Hart was the one who acted nicer than nice. But this time, he couldn’t seem to keep a straight face. He had snickered! He had smiled! He was giving Ivy the total brush-off.
“Okay, well, that’s okay…” Ivy stammered. “Are you leaving school now? I’ll walk out with you…”
She reached for Hart’s arm. Hart backed away.
“Actually, I was just talking to Madison here…” Hart said.
Madison almost fainted when he said that. She watched Ivy squirm, nibbling on her lip, very confused. Was Poison Ivy going to start foaming at the mouth? Madison hoped so. It would have made a great picture.
“Well… ?” Ivy said. She’d run out of ideas.
“See you later,” Hart said.
Ivy held her book bag to her chest and pouted, glaring in Madison’s direction. “Later?” she said. “Sure. Whatever.”
As she strutted away, Hart made a funny face. “Ivy is so weird sometimes, like she’s queen of the school or something,” he said, and paused. “But she doesn’t have a clue.”
Madison couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Hart’s putting Ivy down was the next best thing to Hart’s actually telling Madison that he liked her—almost.
He accompanied Madison to her locker. As she opened it, her flute case fell onto the floor, and he picked it up.
“I didn’t know you played flute,” Hart said.
Madison grabbed the case from him. “I don’t play as much as I used to.”
“You know, I play piano,” Hart said.
“Really?” Madison said. She turned toward him. They were standing so close she could almost feel his breath.
“Maddie!” Aimee yelled from down the hall. Madison jumped as Aimee and Fiona raced up to her and slapped her on the back.
“Hi, Hart,” Fiona said.
Hart looked flustered and stepped away from Madison. “Hey, Fiona. Hi, Aim.”
“Hey, Hart, how’s the puppy?” Aimee asked. When her dog Blossom had had puppies, Hart’s parents had bought one of them for him. He’d named it Bones Jones.
“Bonesy ate the rug in my dad’s study,” Hart said.
Madison giggled. “Whoops,” she said.
Hart laughed. “He’s cute, though. How’s Blossom doing?”
“Blossom is still recovering from having pups. She spends most of her time with the two babies we kept,” Aimee said.
“What did you call them?” Hart asked.
“Yin and Yang!” Fiona interrupted. “Can you believe it? Aimee’s mom is so New Age. Hey, has anyone seen Egg around? I wanted to talk to him before soccer practice.”
“I think he went to the gym,” Hart said.
“Yeah, he’s Mr. Workout these days, isn’t he?” Madison said sarcastically.
“Oh! I have to go, then,” said Fiona, reaching into her own locker and stuffing her bag with books for homework. “I’ll E you later,” she called out to Madison and Aimee.
Madison waved. “E you later,” she repeated, hoping that Aimee might disappear, too, and leave Madison alone with Hart once again.
But it was Hart who left next. He said his goodbyes and headed down the hall to meet with a teacher.
“You and Hart make a cute couple,” Aimee said when he was gone.
“Aimee!” Madison shouted. “You’re embarrassing me. Quit it. We are not a couple. We’re friends.”
“Yeah, right!” Aimee said, making a face.
“Want to walk home together?” Madison asked.
“Can’t,” Aimee said. “Dance class.”
“Bummer,” Madison said.
Aimee leaned in and whispered. “So, what were you and the Hunk talking about?”
“The what?” Madison laughed.
“You look pretty today,” Aimee said.
Madison blushed. “Oh, no, I don’t. And we were talking about nothing, as usual. I get so tongue-tied when we’re alone together. It’s dumb.”
Aimee shrugged. She slung her ballet bag over her shoulder. “So what? He still likes you. Even if you are boring!”
Madison whacked Aimee’s arm. “I’m going to get you for that!” she cried as Aimee jogged down the corridor.
“Later!” Aimee cried.
Since no one was available to walk with her, Madison turned back to her locker, got her stuff, and headed out of school by herself. It was a warm afternoon, so she tied her thick red cardigan around her waist and walked along the sunny side of the street. The air smelled like
autumn, a perfect mix of leaves, burning firewood, and damp mud. Trees that had worn full coats of red and gold only a few weeks earlier had shed them in piles along the road, and their branches were bare.
As soon as she arrived home, Madison headed upstairs to finish up the math homework from the night before—along with new math problems from that day’s class. She curled up in the corner of her window seat, surrounded by her math book, her notebooks, and, of course, her laptop. She needed to finish typing the file she’d started before dinner started. But when Madison reached into her orange bag, she couldn’t locate the flash drive she needed. She dumped the bag’s entire contents onto the floor of her bedroom. Everything landed with a thud.
Madison looked frantically through the paper, books, and pencil shavings spread out on the floor.
There was no flash drive to be found.
“Maddie!” Mom called out. “Have you seen my keys?”
“No!” Madison called out. “I’ll be right down.”
When she came downstairs, Madison saw her mom looking around for the missing set of house and car keys.
“Where did you have the keys last?” Madison asked.
Mom frowned. “In the car. When I opened the door. I can’t remember. I think I left them here on the hall table, but…”
“You never lose stuff,” Madison commented.
“I know,” Mom said. She shuffled through the pile of newspapers on a hall chair and then moved into the kitchen. “Maybe I left them on the counter?”
Madison and Mom both searched the kitchen from top to bottom. Madison looked under tables and chairs. Mom fished in the pockets of the coat she had been wearing.
Nothing.
“Rowrrooooooo!” Phin howled from the kitchen floor. He wanted them to pay attention to him, not the missing keys.
Madison threw Phin a chew bone to keep him quiet. He grabbed it between his teeth and trotted away. A few moments later, he returned. In his mouth was a fuzzy green slipper.
“Phin!” Mom yelled. “Were you in my room again?” she asked.
Phin dropped the slipper and trotted away.
When he came back a second time, he was playing with Madison’s flash drive. He held it between his paws and licked it.
“Phinnie!” Madison cried. “Noooo! Where did you get that?”
Phin dropped the drive on the floor and looked up. His curlicue tail wagged very fast, as if he knew he had done something wrong.
Madison leaned over and retrieved the drive. She wiped off the dog drool and stuck it into the pocket of her jean shirt.
That’s when she got her big idea.
“Mom!” Madison said. “I think I might know where your keys are.”
Taking the stairs two steps at a time, Madison raced up to Mom’s bedroom. Phinnie followed her. She looked all around before she discovered the thing she was seeking—along with a whole bunch of other things.
There in Mom’s closet, way in the back corner, was a small pile of random objects.
On the very top of the pile were Mom’s keys, right next to Mom’s other green fuzzy slipper.
“Phinnie!” Madison said, laughing. “You’re some thief! You have Mom’s keys, slipper, her scarf, two or three of those rawhide chew toys I thought you’d eaten already, your missing collar tags, a tennis ball… yuck!”
Madison recoiled. The tennis ball was still wet with dog drool even though it hadn’t been touched in a while.
By now, Mom had joined them in the closet. “I had no idea our dog was such a little pack rat.”
“Me, neither,” Madison said.
“Rowrroroooooo!” Phin barked as if he knew what they were saying.
Madison handed Mom the missing keys. “Here you go,” she said.
Mom shook her head with disbelief. “You saved the day, honey bear,” Mom said, grinning.
“See?” Madison smiled. “I told you Crime Time was good for something.”
Mom pocketed the keys. “Okay, okay. Finish up your homework, and then let’s eat.”
Madison gave Mom a kiss on the cheek and skipped into her bedroom. Phin followed close behind. Madison popped the recovered disk into her computer.
Crime Time
Rude Awakening: Snoop and ye shall find. I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but I think I may have a knack for solving mysteries. I know locating a missing disk and keys isn’t like finding some bank robber, but it’s a start.
Move over, Major.
Madison DeMille is on the case.
Buy On the Case Now!
About the Author
Author Laura Dower has a lot in common with Madison Finn: They’re both only children and they both love dogs, the color orange, and books! Laura has written more than ninety kids’ books to date, including twenty-five in the series From the Files of Madison Finn. Her other books include the new Palace Puppies series and For Girls Only, a guide to girl stuff. When she’s not writing, Laura loves to garden, sing (loudly), and volunteer as a scout leader for her daughter and two sons. She and her family live in New York. Want to be keypals? Drop her a note at www.lauradower.com.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2004 by Laura Dower
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
978-1-4804-2267-4
This edition published in 2013 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
FROM THE FILES OF
MADISON FINN
FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA
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