Picture-Perfect

by Laura Dower

  Madison turned up the volume on her radio, which she’d fixed after the morning incident. She sang along with Nikki, shouting as loudly as she could. “Sugar-sweet! Sugar-sweet!”

  She and Mom had spent the last few hours picking up the downstairs, gathering papers, dusting, vacuuming, and straightening closets. Now Madison was watering all the indoor plants while Mom cleaned the bathroom.

  After the basic house chores were completed, Madison was happy to climb into the shower and wash her hair. She used all-natural lavender shampoo Mrs. Gillespie had given to Madison once for her birthday. Madison didn’t use it that often, because she saved it for special occasions or times when she needed to feel special. Like now.

  After showering, she pulled on a black dress from her closet. It had little yellow flowers on the fabric and was warm enough so she didn’t have to wear a jacket. Madison wondered how she could possibly be feeling bad when spring was in the air. Spring was supposed to be like an injection of joy, with warm air and flowers and little bunnies hopping across the fields. So why did it feel like one big yuck?

  She wrapped her hair in a towel and sat back down at her desk, booting up her laptop. This was one of those times when Madison had come to depend on one person above all others: her keypal.

  Madison opened her e-mailbox and hit NEW.

  From: MadFinn

  To: Bigwheels

  Subject: HELP!!!

  Date: Sun 19 May 2:11 PM

  I miss you! My life is falling apart. What am I supposed to do? Where r u?

  I have a zit the size of a walnut on my head and it shows no signs of letting up.

  My BFF Aimee is an alien. Well, not really, but she’s acting weird these days. Everyone thinks so. I’m really worried about her. I think maybe she has anorexia or something. We talked about that last year in health class. I know that is like superserious, but it’s true—she never eats food anymore and she looks too skinny. It’s so weird to think anyone could be TOO skinny, but she is. She was never like this before. I don’t understand what happened.

  Did I also mention that I am probably never going to go on a real date with Hart either, since he saw me today looking soooo ugly. I’ll be surprised if he ever talks to me again. Plus, I think he likes this OTHER girl better than me, and she is in my art class and she is a supersnob so I don’t have a chance. Girls like her always get their way

  The only good thing—and it is a VERY VERY good thing—of course, is the Nikki concert. I think my whole life is gearing up for that one moment. Is that dumb? I have no idea what to wear, but whatever. I’ll figure it out at the last minute like I always do.

  Do you have any advice for me? You are so good at figuring stuff out. What’s new in ur world?

  Yours till the life lines,

  MadFinn

  After hitting SEND, Madison noticed that there was an e-mail already waiting inside her mailbox, too. It was from Dad. She panicked for a split second, fearing that Dad might cancel. He did that sometimes.

  But he was just checking in. He’d sent his e-mail to her that morning.

  From: JeffFinn

  To: MadFinn

  Subject: Dinner.

  Date: Sun 19 May 9:31 AM

  Dinner is still on for tonight. I think we’re going to add a little surprise too—a baseball game, with Stephanie. It’s a local league playing in the next town over. I got us tickets for this night game. We can hang out and have fun. Wear your jeans, hon. I’ll be over to pick you up around five o’clock.

  Love, Dad

  Madison sighed. She stood up, walked into the bathroom off the hall, and stared into the mirror.

  “I can’t believe I have to change again,” Madison said to her own reflection. “I’m so sick of changing.”

  She pulled off the black dress and grabbed a pair of faded jeans.

  Then she applied a little more of Mom’s zit cover-up just to be safe.

  Dad would be over at any moment.

  Chapter 8

  IN THE CAR ON the way to the baseball game, Dad and Stephanie listened eagerly while Madison recounted the entire concert ticket-winning experience.

  “Sounds like you’ve been having a busy week,” Dad joked.

  “And this is your first concert?” Stephanie asked.

  Madison nodded and leaned into the front seat a bit so she didn’t have to yell when she spoke. “Actually, it’s the first concert for all of us.”

  “How exciting,” Stephanie said. “I remember my first concert, don’t you, Jeff?”

  “Oh yeah, I went to see the Rolling Stones,” Dad said. “Those were fun times.”

  “I can’t imagine you at a concert, Dad,” Madison said.

  “I was probably sixteen or so when I went to see the Cure,” Stephanie remembered.

  “Does your mother approve of this whole concert thing?” Dad asked. He sounded a little concerned. “You are being chaperoned?”

  Madison reassured him. “DAD!” she said. “Of course! We have it all planned. Aimee’s brother Roger is taking us.”

  “Is he responsible enough?” Dad asked.

  “Jeff, will you just let her enjoy this? Stop worrying!” Stephanie said.

  She turned around to face the backseat and grinned.

  “Next time you’re looking for a chaperone, Maddie, you should call me!” Stephanie said. “I love Nikki’s music.”

  Madison grinned back. “Yeah, that would have been cool. I’ll remember that for next time.”

  They pulled up to the West Lake ballpark just as everyone else did. Guys in baseball caps were out directing the traffic.

  Madison hadn’t known what to expect, but the “stadium” consisted of nothing more than a regular baseball field with bleachers on two sides. Huge lights on towers cast a glow around the field and parking lots. A funny-looking man working a frankfurter-shaped food cart by the entrance to the field cried out, “Soda! DOGS!”

  “It’s open seating,” Dad said. “Let’s go over to that side where there aren’t as many people. On the third-base side.”

  “Do you want anything to eat, Maddie?” Stephanie asked. “We’re going to dinner afterward, but if you want something now, we can—”

  “Nah,” Madison said. “I don’t eat dogs.”

  The crowd transfixed Madison. This place was packed! A few men with giant bellies sat down in the bleacher seats just ahead of them, laughing in that really annoying, loud way that strangers do.

  Other people filed in and sat down on the surrounding bleachers. It was overwhelming to notice all the different faces and clothes and body types. For some reason, Madison had her people radar on tonight. She was observing and taking mental notes on all kinds of people: fat, skinny, tall, short, and loud.

  There were definitely lots of loud people here. The men in front wouldn’t shut up. But the weather was warm and balmy. Spring was definitely here, and everyone, loud or quiet, seemed happy.

  Each league team was sponsored by a local business. A family of eight came into the game wearing blue and yellow, the team colors for Winnie’s Dry Cleaning Astros. The opposing team wore red and white and called themselves Freeze Palace Pirates. Madison smiled when she saw their name, since she and her friends always got their ice cream at Freeze Palace. Now she knew what team she’d be rooting for.

  When Dad got up for some popcorn, Stephanie leaned over to whisper to Madison. “I meant to say earlier that you look adorable tonight,” Stephanie said. “I love that sweater. And did you change your hair?”

  Madison’s hair was still flopping in her face. As of this week, she thought of it as her new, zit do.

  “Well, sorta,” Madison said. She hedged, but then decided to come clean with Stephanie. Lifting her bangs, Madison revealed the giant, hidden pimple.

  “What’s so bad about that?” Stephanie asked. “You can barely see it.”

  “Thanks for lying,” Madison said. “But I know a volcano when I see one. It ruins my entire face—and if it weren’t
for the cover-up that my mom gave to me … and I have to go to the concert looking like this!”

  “Maddie,” Stephanie said. “You are so lovely, don’t you see that?”

  Madison felt uncomfortable when anyone started giving her these little pep talks, but she listened anyway.

  “When I was in seventh grade,” Stephanie went on, “I once had this huge rash break out all over my face. I thought it was hives or an allergy or something. Then the doctor told me it was acne. Acne!”

  “Bummer,” Madison said, listening a little closer now.

  “Well, I freaked out. Acne was like being a leper, at least at my school. I stayed home for three days until my mother finally told me I had to go back. Even then, I’d sit in class with my head down, eyes on the floor. I didn’t want anyone to see me, least of all the guy I liked in my homeroom, Bobby MacPhee. The kids laughed at me and called me crater face and all sorts of mean stuff. It was awful.”

  Stephanie kept talking about her junior-high experience. How her invasion of pimples had lasted for months. How she’d tried every medicine that was available.

  “How did you ever get through it?” Madison asked.

  Stephanie shrugged. “Took zit pills and smeared on cream and lots of cover-up. But more importantly, I learned something.”

  “Learned something from zits?” Madison said.

  “Yeah. I learned who my real friends were. They didn’t care about any of the cover-ups. They loved me whether I had zits or not. I think I was afraid they wouldn’t. Isn’t that silly?”

  Madison wondered if Hart liked her just the same, now that he’d seen her great zit.

  “The point is, Maddie,” Stephanie explained, “sometimes I think we look into the mirror and focus all our attention on one thing, one flaw. But most people looking at you from the outside don’t see that flaw. They see the whole you. They see the cute face, the fun hairdo, the seventh-grade computer whiz. Got it?”

  Madison nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she did.

  “Maybe,” Stephanie said, laughing, “you should stop looking in the mirror for a few days. No one’s perfect, Maddie.”

  “I know,” Madison said with a sigh. “I know.”

  “Hey!” Dad yelled, reappearing just a few rows down. He was walking back up the bleachers with his popcorn and a few drinks. “They’re about to take the field.”

  Madison glanced around the ballpark again, looking for signs of someone—anyone—she knew. But everyone started to blend together in a sea of baseball caps, hot dogs, and chatter.

  “PLAY BALL!” the umpire yelled from down on the field.

  A cheer went up from the stands.

  Madison cheered, too.

  “Hello? Mom?”

  When Madison came back home after the game and a quick dinner at Dad’s favorite Chinese restaurant, she looked for Mom right away. Poking her head into Mom’s office, she found her slouched in a chair, half asleep.

  “Mom?” Madison whispered, gently shaking her mom’s shoulders. She’d been working late on a project.

  “Oooh!” Mom jumped up, awake in an instant. “I must have dozed off. What time is it?”

  “After nine-thirty,” Madison said. “Dad just dropped me off.”

  “Did you have fun?” Mom asked, half yawning.

  Madison nodded. “You and Dad used to watch baseball all the time together, didn’t you? I thought of that when we were there.”

  “Oh, Maddie,” Mom said, leaning forward to give her daughter a warm hug. “That was sweet.”

  “I like Stephanie so much, but sometimes I still miss you and Dad being together. Is that weird?” Madison asked.

  Mom shook her head. “Not one bit. Hey, let’s get ready for bed, okay? We can talk upstairs.”

  When Madison climbed up, she was surprised to discover that Mom had laid out a spread of beauty moisturizers and buffers and all kinds of special products on the bathroom counter.

  “I thought maybe I’d give you a mini-facial before you went to sleep,” Mom said, smiling. “Not a real facial, but a little pampering. We can all use that.”

  Madison glanced in the mirror and saw the zit staring back at her. She remembered what Stephanie had said about forgetting and letting go. Mom believed the same thing. Maybe Madison could, too?

  She and Mom perched on the edge of the tub. A half-hour later, after lots of lotion and good laughs, Mom pronounced Madison “beautified.”

  Madison had to admit that she felt nicer than nice.

  Her zit even felt invisible.

  After saying their good-nights, Madison pulled on her oversized Lisa Simpson T-shirt and turned on her laptop. She hadn’t spoken with Fiona or Aimee all day, so she surfed through the chat rooms on TweenBlurt.com and checked her buddy lists in search of a little conversation with her BFFs.

  No one she knew was online right now, so she checked her e-mail next.

  FROM SUBJECT

  Webmaster@TweenBlur Site Updates

  Bigwheels Re: HELP!!!

  The Webmaster at Tweenblurt.com sent a general announcement to all members about the site. They were adding new features to the “Ask the Blowfish” fortune-telling page; developing new and improved chat rooms; and working on the creation of a MAKE YOUR OWN WEB PAGE section. Madison wanted to pay extra-close attention to that part. She was always looking for new ideas to improve her own Web use and the Web pages on the Far Hills Junior High site.

  However, the second e-mail was way more important. Madison really wanted to hear from her key-pal. Bigwheels had sent it just a moment before.

  From: Bigwheels

  To: MadFinn

  Subject: Re: HELP!!!

  Date: Sun 19 May 9:31 PM

  I miss you too and I’m supersorry that I have been bad about writing back. I have too much homework these days. And it is soooo funny that you said you have a zit, because I get those too and they are AWFUL. But it will go away eventually. My mom took me to a dermatologist once and she gave me this cream for it.

  I wouldn’t stress out about your BFF. Aren’t all dancers supposed to be really skinny? If you are really worried though, just tell her. And as far as your total crush goes, maybe this Hart guy isn’t the guy for you. I mean, why do you like him so much anyhow? That other girl sounds mean. She probably knows you like him and is doing it on purpose! I agree that girls like her always get their way. That’s how I feel sometimes at my school too.

  I am wicked jealous of you going to the Nikki concert. My mom says that maybe if Nikki comes here to play (I think she has a concert in Seattle), then I can go—MAYBE. But I have to do all these chores and pay for part of the ticket. I want ALL the details from when you go like who you see and meet and what songs she plays and EVERYTHING!!!

  BTW: Have you checked on a search engine lately for Nikki Web pages? I checked, and found that there were 8,133,489, and that Nikki is the most popular search term. Can you imagine having that many different Web pages with your picture on them? I have to go download some pictures and print them out. One entire wall in my bedroom is devoted to Nikki. My fave poster is this shot of her from the latest issue of Blast. She has on this very cool dress and pink glasses.

  Write back soon and tell me what happens with everything.

  Yours till the super stars,

  Bigwheels (a/k/a Victoria)

  Just as Madison hit SAVE, another message popped into her e-mailbox.

  Madison caught her breath when she read the name.

  FROM SUBJECT

  Sk8ingBoy Class

  She stared at the screen, dumbfounded. Sk8ingBoy was Hart Jones!

  Hart had first asked for Madison’s e-mail address months ago. So what made him send her e-mail today? Madison opened it up quickly.

  From: Sk8ingBoy

  To: MadFinn

  Subject: Class

  Date: Sun 19 May 9:40 PM

  Hey Finnster have u done that self-portrait for art class yet? I dont know whattodo for mine. Do we
ned it for class 2morrow? I am gonna call Carmen about it. Write back soon. CYA L8R.

  Madison could hardly catch her breath. Her crush had finally sent e-mail.

  But Madison sighed.

  Hart was going to call Carmen?

  Between enemy number one, Poison Ivy Daly, and supersnob Carmen, competition for Hart’s attention in seventh grade had gotten so fierce. With (or even without) the great zit, Madison was beginning to realize that maybe Hart would never think of her the way she wished he would. He’d never crush back.

  She quickly tried to get her mind on other things—like Nikki.

  Madison’s first concert was now only a few days away.

  Chapter 9

  AT THE LOCKERS MONDAY morning, Fiona and Madison were standing around gabbing about the upcoming Nikki concert, when Aimee walked up. She had a sour expression on her face.

  “Aim!” Fiona said. “So how was the rest of your weekend? Did you find an outfit for the concert?”

  “I guess,” Aimee said, opening her locker without saying another word. She just gathered her books, shoved them into her bag, and walked away toward class.

  “Aim?” Madison called out after her. “Wait!”

  She and Fiona chased after their BFF.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Fiona asked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Aimee shrugged. “Yeah. I’m okay. Why do you keep asking me that?”

  “Because,” Madison said, “you seem kind of distant.”

  “You guys are acting so weird lately,” Aimee said.

  “We’ve been acting weird?” Madison said. “Are you joking?”

  “No,” Aimee replied. “You keep asking if I’m okay. Why don’t you just leave me alone? I am fine. I am excited about the concert and I am fine.”

  “Aim!” Fiona said, smiling. “Come on. We’re just—”

  “Just what!” Aimee interrupted.

  “Aim, what is up with you?” Madison asked.

  “Yeah,” Fiona said. “You never talk to us like—”

  “Like what!” Aimee asked. “You guys, I’m psyched about the concert and all that—okay? But I have other stuff on my mind, too. So would you please stop asking me the same questions? Just leave me alone.”