Keep It Real
Page 6
After tossing her bag onto the kitchen table, Madison opened her laptop. While it booted up, Madison opened up a container of strawberry yogurt and spooned it into a bowl along with some honey granola and raisins. If she was forced to eat tofu later, she needed a decent snack now.
Madison’s laptop beeped with e-mail.
“Yeah!” she shrieked. It was the one she’d been waiting for.
From: Bigwheels
To: MadFinn
Subject: Re: TweenBlurt
Date: Wed 13 Oct 4:10 PM
Thanks for your e-mail & sorry I haven’t written back but I’ve had 3 MAJOR tests on Monday and Tuesday and I’m only now checking my mailbox. I’m in school, in the tech lab and I’m blowing off my HW so--don’t tell anyone! *>)
You know I think we should write in to one of those shows where two people get made over TOGETHER. How cool would that b?
BTW yes I have been on tweenblurt a lot l8ly and I’m guessing (is it keypal ESP?) that you are talking about the new feature BLOGGERBLURT aka BB. Um…did u find my blog there? I knew you would--!!!:>) And I know I should have said something b4 but I wasn’t sure what to say exactly. I mean ur like my BFF online and normally I’d spill and tell u everything but I just can’t this time. Not yet. Sorry.
Pleasepleaseplease WBS.
Yours till the lily pads (we did virtual frog dissections last week!).
Vicki aka Bigwheels
Madison swallowed a few more spoonfuls of yogurt and granola as she scanned Bigwheels’s e-mail again. But no matter how many times she reread the words, Madison couldn’t accept it.
Bigwheels had a BIG secret?
Madison needed to find out exactly what it was. Soon.
Chapter 7
From: MadFinn
To: Bigwheels
Subject: Re: Re: TweenBlurt
Date: Thurs 14 Oct 11:20 AM
Now I’m the one in the media lab @ school writing 2 u! Thanks 4 ur e-mail. Is everything ok? U sound different. I know u said u couldn’t talk about it but I wanted to make sure u know that u can always ALWAYS keep it real w/me. Really. I consider u 2 be 1 of my BFs of course even tho ur all the way across the USA. So…
We have this weird project in school. We’re keeping journals. It sounds like my kind of thing but for some reason I am NOT feeling inspired. Un42n8ly Poison Ivy obviously IS inspired b/c she keeps writing (and talking) about how absolutely PERFECT her life is. She has to be THE most plastic person on the planet.
Well, I have to get ready 4 class so I better go.
Ur turn to WBS.
Yours till the book reports,
Maddie
Brrrrinnnnnnnnnnnnng.
UPON HEARING THE CLASS bell ring, Madison clicked SEND, powered down her laptop, and stuffed all of her books, including her journaling notebook, and her laptop back into her orange bag. Although the bag was bursting at the seams, she heaved it over her shoulder and raced out of the media lab, taking two steps at a time down to the next class.
At the bottom of the staircase, Madison took a corner too fast, and the weight of her bag pulled her in the wrong direction.
Wham!
She slammed into someone coming from the opposite direction. Her bag dragged her to the ground. Everything inside spilled onto the floor and the other person’s books went tumbling, too.
“Finnster?”
Madison looked up and saw Hart looking down at her. He was rubbing his shoulder.
“Ouch. Your book bag attacked me,” he said. “What’s in there?”
Madison realized that both his and her stuff was everywhere: her laptop, his wallet, and lots of papers were scattered on the ground. Other kids stepped around the crash site. Kneeling down, she scrambled to get her hands on as much as she could without having her fingers stomped on.
“I’m such a klutz,” Madison said, pausing to put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I whammed into you like that. I am SO sorry. And now look at this mess…”
Hart laughed. He kneeled down to retrieve his own books and wallet and to help her pick up her papers. “My dad would call this a happy accident. He always says profound things like that.”
“Huh?” Madison blurted out. She felt a blush coming on. Hart was definitely flirting again. Definitely. She could see it in his eyes this time. He never stopped smiling.
Madison continued to try to gather the items that had flown out of her bag. As Hart handed Madison a stack of loose-leaf paper, she grabbed her science notebook and a few stray pens.
“I think your laptop survived,” Hart said.
“Thanks,” Madison sighed. “I don’t know what I would do if my laptop was injured.”
“You could take it to a laptop hospital,” Hart said.
“Bah-dum ching!” Madison joked. “Gee, Hart, you should be a comedian,” she added, in her most sarcastic voice. Now she was really flirting, too.
“Is this yours?” Hart asked, holding up Madison’s black-and-white composition notebook from Mr. Gibbons’s class.
Madison gasped. Her journal! The way Hart was holding it she could see a couple of the pages folded over. What did those pages say? Madison strained to peek.
“I’ll take that!” she cried in a sudden burst of paranoia, grabbing the journal right out of Hart’s hands. One of the pages was completely exposed. Right there in black and white was written the name Madison Jones.
Had Hart seen that or any of the other dozens of name combinations scribbled in the same margin? That question put her tummy into instant knots. Madison was sweating just thinking about it.
Gulp.
With her notebook still clutched tightly to her side, Madison wished Hart a speedy good-bye. Of course, he wasn’t ready to go.
“So, have you been writing more?” Hart asked, indicating the notebook. “Do you like the journal project?”
“Um…um…huh?” Madison stammered. She couldn’t look him in the eyes.
“Are you heading to science?” Hart asked easily, checking his watch. “I hear Mr. Danehy is back.”
“I heard that, too,” Madison said. “If you’re going to class, why are you walking in this direction?”
Hart tossed his head. “I was going to drop something off…but I haven’t got time now.”
“Sorry,” Madison said. “My fault.”
“No prob,” Hart said. He smiled.
Madison wanted to smile, too, but she couldn’t. All she could think about was the journal, still tucked tightly under her armpit. With each passing moment she was becoming more and more convinced that of course Hart had seen the doodles, seen “Madison Jones,” and was right now planning a breakup with her. Of course, that would have made a lot more sense if he had actually been going out with her, but just the same—the gut-wrenching, embarrassing, and ghastly emotions were still there, all rolled into one.
Naturally, Hart didn’t say anything more about the book, which left Madison guessing all the way to science class.
At least Mr. Danehy was back—and feeling much better. He hardly even sniffled anymore. Not having to go back upstairs to Mr. Books was a huge relief.
Madison and Hart separated to take their seats at opposite ends of the lab. Madison went to her spot near Ivy.
“This seat is taken,” Ivy said as Madison approached.
“Taken? By who?” Madison asked.
“By you, twit,” Ivy said with a smirk.
“Oh, like, that’s funny,” Madison said. She climbed onto the lab stool and placed her journal on the countertop.
“Is that your journal for school?” Ivy asked.
“You know it is,” Madison nodded. “Where’s yours?”
“In a safe place,” Ivy said. “I don’t want anyone looking at it. Not that there’s much to read. I mean, life couldn’t be better right now, you know?”
“I bet,” Madison said, vaguely annoyed. Silently, she wished a curse on Ivy and Ivy’s journal. If she had to hear one more word about how perfect the world of Ivy Daly was,
Madison was going to be sick!
After school, Madison couldn’t wait to complain to her BFFs about Ivy, who was getting on everyone’s last nerve. Plus, according to Aimee, there were more Ivy rumors circulating.
They decided to chat online after school. Aimee, Fiona, and Madison arranged to meet in a chat room called BFFTOGO. Madison was always trying to find chat rooms with the cleverest names.
like he got suspended once for doing drugs
Madison wondered where Ivy was right at that very moment—and if she was working on her journal—or just basking in the perfectness of her own life.
She felt all the ugly anger toward her enemy building up again inside. She didn’t feel much like writing anything nice, so she tried scribbling a description of Poison Ivy in the pages of her notebook.
Description
How do you describe someone you hate? Let me try. Miss Perfect thinks she is so great, but her big head is covered with red hair like flames shooting everywhere. She looks through you when you talk to her, like she can see all your weaknesses and she can’t wait to tell you off. And she always has something mean to say.
Madison stopped writing. Now she was the one saying the mean things.
“Maddie! Are you online?” Mom cried from downstairs. “Can I borrow your laptop? My computer down here isn’t working right, and I just need to check something online fast.”
“Sure, Mom!”
Madison trotted downstairs with her laptop and the portable disk drive.
“Mom, can I ask you something?” Madison asked as she curled up in a ball on the large chair in Mom’s office.
“Yes?” Mom replied.
“What am I supposed to do about Ivy? Because I can’t deal anymore,” Madison said.
“Deal with what?”
“I cannot deal with anything Poison Ivy says or does!” Madison said.
Mom made a face. “So? Is there anything you can do about it?”
“I want to request that I switch lab partners in science—and maybe even get a different homeroom so I don’t have to see Ivy every single morning. Is that possible? Can’t you write me a note or something?”
“Maddie…of course I can’t,” Mom said.
“But I hate her, Mom,” Madison said with a scowl. “I hate and detest and despise her and her perfect, perfect life.”
“Hate is a very strong word,” Mom replied. “Who says her life is perfect?”
“She does!”
Madison told her mom what she’d seen, by mistake, of course, in Ivy’s journal and what Ivy had told her in class.
“She’s acting snootier than ever, and it just makes me want to SCREAM. Today she called me a twit! Plus, there are these rumors…well, I can’t confirm anything, but apparently she’s dating some guy…and he’s older than us…”
“Older?” Mom asked. “Dating?”
“Aimee’s brother says the guy is a sophomore at Dunn Manor.”
“Oh, boy,” Mom said.
“Mom, I even saw Ivy crying in the girls’ room at school. She is such a total drama queen.”
Mom clasped her hands in front of her.
She got very quiet.
“Maddie,” Mom said, “I think there’s something you need to know.”
Chapter 8
“WHY ARE YOU ACTING so serious?” Madison asked Mom. “You’re making me nervous.”
Mom put her hand on Madison’s arm. “I need to tell you something important. It’s a secret, but I’m going to share it with you. Can you keep this a secret? You can’t tell anyone right now. Not even Aimee and Fiona.”
Madison listened carefully as Mom spoke.
“When you were younger, I was very good friends with Ivy’s mother, as you know,” Mom said.
“So?” Madison couldn’t keep herself from interrupting. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“So…I haven’t seen or talked to Ivy’s mom in ages. We keep in touch a little through e-mails, but that’s about it. She’s been quite busy these past few years…”
“Mom, what’s your point?” Madison asked. The suspense was killing her.
“My point is that Ivy’s mother happened to be at Salon Pink at the same time as me the other day—and we started talking.”
“About Ivy?” Madison asked, intrigued.
Mom shook her head. “Maddie, just listen.”
Madison sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Okay, okay.”
“So, I got to talking with Ivy’s mom and…well…apparently she’s sick.”
“Ivy’s sick?”
“No, Maddie. Mrs. Daly is sick.”
“Oh,” Madison said. “How sick?”
“She was diagnosed with breast cancer a month ago.”
Madison’s entire body went limp. “Cancer?”
“Come here,” Mom said. She held her arms out to Madison.
Madison walked into her mother’s arms and squeezed her tightly around the middle. She thought about all the things Aimee had said when she told Madison that her dance teacher had been diagnosed with cancer. Aimee had said that learning that news felt like getting a punch in the stomach. That’s what Madison felt like, too, right now.
“Is it bad?” Madison asked.
“From what I understand,” Mom went on, “Mrs. Daly said they caught it early, so it seems like she has a good chance of a full recovery. But she’s undergoing some medical treatments now.”
“Chemotherapy?” Madison asked. She knew about that from science class and television.
“I think that chemo is part of her treatment, yes,” Mom answered. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Daly has been suffering some side effects that aren’t too pleasant. She’s losing her hair. That’s why she was at the salon—to get her head shaved.”
“But her hair will grow back, right? She’ll get better soon, right?”
“She won’t know if the cancer is gone until she has had all the treatments. And that takes some time. But f
or now she’s hoping for the best.”
“Poor Ivy,” Madison said. She felt her chest start to heave a little, a wave of emotion building inside her.
“Exactly,” Mom said. “Ivy must be going through a lot right now.”
“So maybe that’s why she’s…” Madison stopped in midsentence. “Oh, Mom, I can’t believe I said all of those things about her.”
“Well, I know you and Ivy haven’t been friends for some time,” Mom said. “It’s understandable. We all say things we don’t mean sometimes.”
“But wait a minute…” Madison said, her whole face lighting up with a bright idea. “If her mom is so sick, then why is Ivy writing in her journal about how perfect her life is?”
“Sometimes when life is not so perfect, it’s nice to pretend that things are better. Maybe she feels she needs to put on a brave front,” Mom said with a shrug. “Only Ivy can answer that question, Maddie. Perhaps you should speak to her about it.”
“Yeah, right,” Madison said.
Mom frowned. “Madison Francesca Finn…” she said in that voice that she used when she was disappointed or upset.
“I know,” Madison said. “I really should be more considerate.”
Mom nodded. “Don’t you think Ivy would do the same for you?”
Madison raised an eyebrow. “Um…is that a trick question?”
“Well,” Mom said, “you get my point.”
They talked for a few more minutes about cancer and what it meant to get radiation treatments and how hard life at the Daly house must be right then. Madison began to feel worse and worse about all the nasty things she’d written in her journal. She thought back to the entries that she’d spied in Ivy’s journal, in particular the page that had the initials M., H., and J. on it. Madison realized that those letters probably never stood for Madison or anyone else in their class at all. That M must have been for “Mom” and the J for Ivy’s older sister, Janet.
“You know, Maddie,” Mom said, “everyone has different ways of coping with change and stressful situations. Maybe Ivy’s journal is the one place where she can really express herself right now. Isn’t that what you do in your files?”
“Yes, but that’s different,” Madison said.
“How?” Mom asked.