All Shook Up

by Laura Dower

  “So, which of us will be Maddie One and which will be Maddie Two?” Madhur joked.

  Mrs. Singh showed the girls into the very large kitchen. Stretched across one counter was an array of ingredients Madison had never seen. Then again, Mom rarely cooked, so these items wouldn’t have been familiar. There were jars of cardamom, curry, aniseed, saffron, and tamarind. Although she had no idea what any of those tasted like, Madison’s mouth watered at the thought of them. The room smelled like a spice chest.

  “Don’t forget ghee,” Mrs. Singh explained to the girls.

  “That’s butter,” Madhur whispered.

  Madison nodded and watched. The meal magically came together.

  Somewhere between Mrs. Singh’s rubbing the spices onto the chicken and Madhur’s stuffing the Indian bread with herbs and onions, an older boy plowed through the kitchen doors. He carried an iPod and wore a hat pulled down over his forehead.

  “Yo!” the boy said.

  “Who’s that?” Madison whispered, curious.

  “Mister Obnoxious,” Madhur mumbled, “Otherwise known as my brother. He is seriously lacking the cool gene.”

  “You have a brother?” Madison said quietly. For some reason, she’d assumed Madhur was an only child—just as she was. After all, they’d been alike in so many other ways.

  “Are you staying for supper, Jahan?” Mrs. Singh asked, reaching over to remove the boy’s headphones. She turned back to Madison. “Jahan is just back from year two at university. He’s studying to be a doctor.”

  “We’re so lucky to be graced by his presence,” Madhur said mockingly, making a face at him.

  “Zip it,” Jahan said as he shot a brooding look toward Madison and Madhur. “Sorry, Mom, I can’t stay for supper.”

  Mrs. Singh hit Jahan in the shoulder with a wooden spoon. “Nonsense,” she said, chastising him. “Of course you will stay. Now, go put out the silver and china—for five today.”

  Jahan skulked away. Madison and Madhur couldn’t help giggling.

  “So where’s Dad?” Jahan asked, ignoring Madison’s and his sister’s laughter.

  Mrs. Singh smiled. “Your father is upstairs. You know. Napping.”

  “Snoring is more like it,” Jahan said.

  “He’ll be down for the meal,” Madhur’s mom said.

  Everyone laughed at Jahan’s comment, including Madison, even though she knew it was a family joke. Everything about Madhur’s family was different from Madison’s own; yet it was so comfortable.

  Somewhere inside, a twinge of jealousy bubbled up. Madison tried to ignore it. What was making her jealous? Then she knew. It was Madhur’s intact family: mom, dad, and brother.

  Madison often felt a similar jealous twinge when she visited Aimee or Fiona. It was always the same realization: having two parents at home was somehow better than having one. Okay, not always better, but different, in a way that made Madison miss life before the Big D. No matter how much she got used to her parents’ divorce, she’d always long for a mom and a dad who lived in the same house. And having a stepmother (Stephanie) didn’t really help. An extra person couldn’t just make all those other feelings go away.

  Madison recalled how, pre-Big D, Dad had prepared delicious meals in their house, just as Mrs. Singh was doing now, in hers. Phin had used to dance around the table while Mom filled water glasses. Life hadn’t just been a series of paper plates and takeout. Sometimes, these days, that was how life felt.

  “Maddie?” Madhur asked. “It feels funny to say my own nickname when I talk to you.”

  Madison smiled politely and tried to get her thoughts back on track.

  “Let’s go hang out upstairs for a few minutes,” Madhur said. “Supper won’t be ready for a little while.”

  Madison followed her new friend up a long, winding staircase. At the top, the hall split three ways. Madhur went through an orange door. This had to be a very good sign: Madhur’s door was painted orange! That was Madison’s favorite color in the whole world.

  “Welcome to my room!” Madhur announced.

  The room was tiny, Madison observed, but bright, like a bouquet of flowers. The walls were painted in rich red, yellow, and tangerine, respectively. On her bed, Madhur had a collection of colorful stuffed fish. The room looked like a rainbow come to life.

  “You like fish,” Madison asked, “and you had never been on TweenBlurt!” That had to be more than just a coincidence.

  Madhur smiled. “Maybe,” she said.

  It was almost too crowded with two girls in the small room at once, but Madison loved being there. Her mood improved instantly as they lay across Madhur’s bed, legs waving in the air. Then Madhur pulled out a thick photo album.

  “This is a photo of my grandmamma when she was little,” Madhur explained, showing Madison a small picture of a young girl, half dressed, smiling, standing next to a wide river. Next to the girl, a cluster of Punjabi women kneeled by the water washing clothes.

  “She looks so small, standing there,” Madison commented. The sepia-toned photo had been taken in Punjab more than seventy years before.

  Madhur flipped through the pages. There was an incredible array of photos of India and Pakistan and of many generations of Singhs, taken over the years. Madison thought about her own photo albums at home. She didn’t have photos of exotic places—not like this. There were some pictures that had been taken on Mom’s film shoots, but nothing seemed as impressive or as exciting as Madhur’s family album.

  Madison dreaded the thought, but it popped into her head nonetheless: was her life boring?

  Of course, Madison was grateful for everything she had, and of course she had lots of people in her world who loved her, and of course she did some interesting things. Mom’s job had afforded Madison the opportunity of traveling some. But she didn’t have all these cousins or grandmothers or uncles or even pets. She didn’t have stories like the ones Madhur’s grandmamma told.

  Madison tried to keep up as Madhur continued with her running commentary on the places and people in the photos. After a half hour, the subject finally switched to homework. The girls remained stuck on what topic to choose for the project. There were many issues, affecting the whole world. What would theirs be?

  “MADDIE!”

  A booming voice roared upstairs.

  “Who was that?” Madison asked.

  “My brother,” Madhur grumbled. “He’s such a loudmouth. I guess it’s suppertime. We should go.”

  Madhur hopped off the bed; Madison followed. They went downstairs and back into the kitchen, where many different-size plates and bowls and steaming hot cups of rice were spread across a patterned table runner. There was that pungent, warm, spicy smell again.

  Mmmmmmmm.

  Mr. Singh appeared, still a little groggy from his nap. He had a beard and mustache, although he did not have much hair on the top of his head.

  “Aha!” Mr. Singh announced, taking a seat at the head of the table. He smiled broadly at Madison. “At last! Our guest of honor has arrived.”

  Madhur nudged Madison and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry. My dad likes to make a big deal. He won’t bite.”

  Madison took her seat at the table next to Madhur. Jahan sat directly across the table from them both, but he didn’t say much. He seemed to be wearing imaginary headphones, trying hard to tune out everyone else. Mrs. Singh sat at the opposite end of the table from her husband and began to serve food onto a plate.

  “So, Madhur tells me your name is Maddie, too. Does that make you sweet lightning, too?” Mr. Singh laughed.

  Madison looked bewildered, but Madhur cleared things up immediately.

  “Dad’s talking about my first and middle names, which are Madhur Damini. That literally means ‘sweet lightning.’ Dad always says I have this special spark. Cheesy, right?”

  “Not at all. My middle name is just Francesca. I have no idea what it means, or what ‘Madison’ means, for that matter.”

  “You should look it up on T
weenBlurt!” Madhur said brightly.

  Everyone dug in to the dishes. Madison spooned little tastes of the tandoori chicken, lentil daal, palak paneer, biryani, lamb kebab, and more out onto her plate. She’d eaten Indian food before, of course, but nothing that compared to this meal. Everything tasted delicious. Or maybe the company made it so.

  At some point during dinner, the family conversation turned to school. Madhur reported on how she had done on the last paper for English, as well as her results on a pop quiz in social studies class. Madison never had to report in to her mom like that. She wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Singh would ask about Madison’s grades, too. But thankfully, Madhur was doing all the talking.

  Mr. Singh listened intently as the subject switched to that of the school conference. His face broke into a crooked grin again as Madhur mentioned the presentation with Madison.

  “So, Dad, we decided to do our presentation on world hunger,” Madhur said.

  “Makes sense,” Jahan interjected. “Since you eat so much.”

  “If I wanted your opinion …” Madhur started to say, but Mr. Singh held up his hand to cut her off.

  “Tell me more about the project,” he said, pressing for particulars.

  Madison kept quiet while Madhur explained. Madhur talked about poverty and signing petitions and saving the world. She sounded really knowledgeable.

  “Good, good,” Mr. Singh said. “You see how even one small presentation in school can make a difference. You must look at every academic opportunity as a moment when you stand and let your voice be heard.”

  “ACK!”

  Jahan broke up the conversation when he nearly choked on some kind of bone. He gulped a glass of water as Madhur cracked up.

  “Choke much?” Madhur said. “That’s one way to be heard, all right.”

  “Very funny,” Jahan cracked back. “Mom, this tandoori is a little hot, no?”

  “No. You like it hot,” Mrs. Singh said. “Hush.”

  Jahan settled back into his seat, stewing. The rest of the meal passed by more quietly as they talked about other subjects besides the conference. Mr. and Mrs. Singh engaged in a brief but humorous debate about their neighbor’s pet cats.

  “Sorry about my parents,” Madhur said to Madison near the end of the meal, rolling her eyes. “Utter mortification.”

  “Not at all,” Madison said, shaking her head. “Parent stuff. I get it. Except what was all that stuff about world hunger? We hadn’t officially decided on a topic, had we?”

  “Oh,” Madhur said quickly. “I was just thinking on my feet. There was no way I could avoid telling my dad about the project. If I said we were undecided, he would have given us a very hard time.”

  Madison appreciated the fact that there was a lot of pressure in Madhur’s home to do things the “right” way.

  “Sure,” Madison said. “Besides, it’s a great idea. And we can pull the whole thing together this week, right?”

  “I hope so,” Madhur said. “We’ve been spending more time being friends than doing what we’re supposed to do, you know?”

  “I guess so,” Madison said.

  “We were assigned to each other to do the work, not to hang out at the movies,” Madhur went on.

  “Right,” Madison said. Inside she was thinking, Is hanging at the movies so bad?

  Madhur must have been thinking the same thing, because a moment later she added, “Not that I don’t like the movies. And, your friends are all so nice….”

  “Especially Chet, right? I saw you talking to him a lot,” Madison said.

  “Yeah. Hart, too,” Madhur added. “He really is cute, isn’t he?”

  “Who?” Madison stammered.

  “Hart, of course. Everyone thinks so.”

  “They do?” This was the time to say something, Madison thought. Say something.

  “I have a little crush,” Madhur admitted. “Is that wrong?”

  Yes! Yes! Yes! S-o-o-o-o-o-o wrong!

  Madison’s eyes must have rolled all the way back into her head, because the next words out of Madhur’s mouth were, “Um … Maddie, are you okay? Was the tandoori too hot or—”

  “Huh?” Madison asked. “What?”

  Madhur lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “Forget I said any of that, okay? I’m just being silly.”

  Madison nodded. But forget? She couldn’t possibly.

  Hadn’t Madhur seen Madison and Hart holding hands at some point? Didn’t she know? Didn’t she sense it?

  That night, after Madison returned home, Mom asked her about the big dinner. Madison told Mom all about the food and the orange door and the very cool Sri Ganesha statue. But she couldn’t bear to admit out loud what Madhur had said about Hart.

  The only one to whom Madison could admit the truth was her computer. She opened a new file before bed.

  Madhur and Hart?

  Just writing those two names together makes me feel all oogy. Wait. Is oogy a real word? I should have said something to Madhur about me & Hart, shouldn’t I? But I looked over at her and my lips and tongue got stuck. Maybe it was the curry from dinner? It was like she shot me with a poison dart.

  Rude Awakening: When is a sure thing not a sure thing? I’m not sure anymore.

  Help.

  Tonight I saw how exciting life is in Madhur’s world. She has so much going on.

  Sometimes, when she starts talking about Punjab and her family, I feel like plain cardboard. I have nothing going on; not like her. I barely even do the web updates anymore. I haven’t played my flute in weeks. I don’t go to the animal clinic as often as I should (which is why I missed seeing those kittens one last time). If Madhur and I were in the same room, she would totally win the contest of who was more interesting.

  I was never REALLY worried about Hart liking Ivy because after all, Poison Ivy is super fake. But Madhur isn’t fake at all. She’s the opposite of fake. And it’s probably only a matter of time before Hart notices—REALLY notices—this fact. It’s also only a matter of time before he realizes Madhur is way more interesting than me. Gulp. Then what? What am I supposed to do when things feel all shook up like this?

  Rude Awakening #2: Life is just a fizzy bottle of Coke. One shake too many and then … PFFFFFFFFFFFT.

  Wow. I hope I’m not going to explode.

  Can I do something to hang onto Hart—before it’s too late?

  Chapter 8

  PHIN WOKE MADISON UP extra early on Monday morning with wet doggy kisses on her nose and forehead. Even though she was up earlier than usual, Madison felt way less fizzy than she had the night before. She hadn’t exploded—not even close.

  Well, not yet, anyway.

  As she dressed for school, Madison began to wonder if maybe she had been rushing things in her friendship with Madhur. After all, she’d been spending way more time with Madhur than with Aimee, Fiona, or Lindsay combined—and she felt a little guilty about that. Plus, what did she really know about her new friend? What if Madhur were just pretending to be like Madison—so she could steal Hart away? What if Madhur turned out to be like Ivy?

  With time to spare before she left for school, Madison did what she always did when she had time: she went online. Usually, it calmed her nerves.

  Much to her surprise, the in-box overflowed with mail. Madison went through and deleted all of the spam first, but there were many personal e-mails, too. Madison spotted three from Aimee (three?!); one each from Dan and Dad; and one from Fiona.

  FROM SUBJECT

  BalletGrl Mark the Date PLEEEZ

  BalletGrl & don’t 4get

  BalletGrl 1 more thingie

  Dantheman thanx

  JeffFinn Dinner

  Wetwinz WUWC?

  Madison had to read the Aimee e-mails first. They seemed urgent coming one right after the other like that. And Madison hadn’t said much to Aimee since the movies the day before. What could she possibly have to say that would fill that many messages?

  From: BalletGrl

  To:
MadFinn

  Subject: Mark the Date PLEEEZ

  Date: Sun 27 Sept 10:12 PM

  My bros r finally OFF the computer so I can write 2nite. N e way I wanted 2 say sorry about last wk. I was thinking that somehow u were still mad about it b/c u totally blew me off @ the GNO movies and IK you have been doing the project w/Madhur these days but still. I mean she’s ok, nice, sure, but I miss hanging w/you. OK I better go.

  LYLASDA41S (heh heh, I made one up is it lame?)

  Bye 4 now,

  Aim

  Madison was surprised by Aimee’s sort-of apology. Aimee wasn’t really good at saying she was sorry, and really, Madison had been the one who had done the blowing off, so if anyone should have apologized …

  Madison hit DELETE and skipped to the next e-mail. Aimee sounded different in this one.

  From: BalletGrl

  To: MadFinn

  Subject: & don’t 4get

  Date: Sun 27 Sept 10:21 PM

  OBTW IK u said u had a lot 2 do w/the conference but u still said u would go 2 my dance recital. I wanted 2 say that the exact time of the show next wkend is after 6 so maybe yr mom can drive u there? I’m a little nervous b/c I have TWO solos (can u believe it) and b/c Ben Buckley said he would come see it. Whoa. Maybe he just said that 2 be nice 2 me. Well, I hope someone comes.

  Bye again,

  Aim

  And that wasn’t the last Aimee e-mail. She obviously had a lot to say.

  From: BalletGrl

  To: MadFinn

  Subject: 1 more thingie

  Date: Sun 27 Sept 10:25 PM

  U borrowed my nubby green sweater a while ago and well I need it back now. Can u pls. bring it 2 school Monday. Also, I think u have one of my fave bracelets 2 that I loaned u & I need that back 2. ok bye.

  As Madison reread the last mail, her stomach churned. After all, the green sweater and bracelet were loans from the summer, which felt like a million years ago. How could Aimee possibly need them back now? Was she being mean?

  Madison couldn’t bear to think anymore about it. She skimmed through the other e-mails.

  Dan’s note was just a thank-you for helping out at the clinic. Dad sent his e-thanks, too, for GNO, even though it had been overwhelming, with the arrival of the boys especially. Dad attached a page of bad jokes that he’d read in an airplane magazine. Madison had to laugh at all of them—even though they were really dumb.