by Laura Dower
“Is there a problem?” Madison said as she turned to face the crowd.
Everyone rushed toward Madison. It was a whoosh of noise and faces and smiles and frowns and, oh, my goodness, how woozy she felt as the crowd pushed closer.
Then, as if by magic, everyone froze.
An unfamiliar voice called out from behind one of the classroom doors.
“Over here, Maddie!” the voice cried.
Who was there?
When she glanced over in the direction of the voice, Madison saw a stranger. It was Will.
What was Will doing at Far Hills Junior High?
“Maddie!”
What was she supposed to say to him? And why was he yelling?
“Will you snap out of it?”
Madison blinked hard a few times. She shook her head. She was no longer inside the daydream. She was back in homeroom. And Egg—not Will—was the one yelling.
“Quit spacing out, Maddie,” Egg barked. He poked her in the arm for the umpteenth time.
“What’s going on?” Madison asked, rubbing her arm and checking it for bruises.
Egg looked concerned. He lowered his voice. “Are you okay, Maddie?”
“I think so,” Madison said. She looked down to see what she was actually wearing. Whew. No short skirt. No tank. No sandals. She had on faded jeans, a cotton shirt, and sneaker-mules, just as always.
“Whoa,” Madison said, squinting at Egg. “Now that was truly weird.”
“Yeah, I guess so. You never zoned out like that before,” Egg said. “The announcements are over. First period is about to start.”
“Oh,” Madison said, still feeling the ripples of her daydream. “I guess I was just thinking about stuff.”
“What was so funny?” Egg asked.
“Funny?”
“You were smiling,” Egg said. “Wacko.”
“Don’t call me names,” Madison said.
“I always call you names. It’s what I do.”
Madison rolled her eyes and scanned the room. Egg had witnessed her entire daydream episode. Had anyone else in class seen her space out as though she’d traveled all the way to Venus and back?
She clutched her chest, taking shallow little breaths. Never had such a vivid daydream or night dream happened in Madison’s life. It was like watching a crazy movie.
Brrrinnnggg!
The bell for first class rang out, and Madison jumped, startled.
Egg jumped, too.
“Why did you jump like that?” Egg cried. “Stop it! You’re freaking me out today, Maddie!”
“I guess that’s just what I do,” Madison said.
Egg groaned. “Hardy-har-har. You’re a real laugh riot.”
“Aw, just leave me alone,” Madison grumbled.
She stood up with her orange bag, checking to make sure that she had all the right books for the morning classes. Science was first, and her purple science notebook was right there. Madison had been sure to rip out the doodle pages and to scratch out any incriminating names or games, but she quickly double-checked, just to make sure. She couldn’t risk Ivy’s spotting the words “Madison Jones” or “Madison + Will?” in the margin, now, could she?
Between the doodles and the crazy daydream, Madison was beginning to feel that her secret thoughts were getting the better of her.
At the same time, she just didn’t know how to turn them off.
Chapter 10
BY THE END OF THE day on Wednesday, Madison was still preoccupied with boy thoughts. And it didn’t help that her last class was Mrs. Wing’s tech lab. Half the boys from the wild daydream were in that classroom.
Madison attempted to keep a low profile. She sat behind one of the computer monitors with a tight-lipped, blank expression on her face, trying very hard not to encourage any random conversations, especially not with Egg. No matter what the day or situation, Egg would find some sneaky way to slip under Madison’s skin and drive her crazy. Today, she wasn’t in the mood.
Sometimes Egg could be as nasty as Poison Ivy, like a bad rash that wouldn’t go away, teasing Madison relentlessly. Of course, he usually apologized in the end, but that didn’t make his annoying behavior any easier to take.
“Hey,” Egg grunted. “Are you ignoring me or what?”
Madison bit her tongue. She was not going to answer.
“Hey,” Egg said a little louder. “I know you can he-e-e-e-ear me.”
Not only could Madison hear him, she could feel his spit as he hurled comments her way.
“Shhhh!” she finally said, holding a finger up to her lips for emphasis. “We’re supposed to be doing site updates, not talking.”
Before Egg had a chance to say anything else, Madison was rescued by Mrs. Wing and a blue folder.
“Maddie,” Mrs. Wing said sweetly, handing the folder to Madison, “I have a few memory pages that I need inputted into the database. Would you be able to handle this before class gets out?”
“Of course,” Madison replied. “I’ll input them right now.”
Mrs. Wing handed a folder to Egg, too. He turned back to his computer and began to type.
Madison’s folder contained at least five new handwritten memory-page profiles from other students in the seventh grade. Much to her surprise, the first page inside the folder was from Joan Kenyon, super drone. Madison immediately read through the text to see just what this friend of the queen of mean had written. But nothing in the profile seemed funny or strange or even mean. In fact, Phony Joanie came across as the sweetest, most unphony person on the planet.
As if.
Madison briefly considered what would happen if she were to alter Joan’s page while inputting it on the computer. What if she changed a few words here and there, just to make Joan sound more like the mean drone she really was?
Madison giggled. First there were boy-crazy daydreams. Now she was having fleeting fantasies about getting drone revenge. Of course, it was all just fantasy. Madison wouldn’t change a word of the profile. Changing the text was something Ivy would have done, not Madison.
When the end-of-day bell rang, Madison avoided all the guys and hustled to gather her belongings. The rehearsal for backstage help was about to begin downstairs. Kids who helped with props had practice in one room, while kids who were performing songs and dances practiced in another.
Hart was right there in Madison’s rehearsal room, waiting. She walked over to him. Something seemed wrong. He wasn’t making eye contact.
“How are you?” Madison asked gently, slipping into the seat next to him.
“Fine, I guess, considering…” he grumbled.
“Considering…what?” Madison asked.
“Aw, you know,” Hart said. He still wouldn’t look her in the eye.
I know? Madison thought.
Madison clenched her stomach muscles.
Um…no, I don’t know.
What was he talking about? Could he read her thoughts? Had Fiona or Aimee spilled the beans? Did Hart know about Will’s e-mail?
“You look a little weird today,” Hart commented, unaware of Madison’s internal freak-out.
“I do?”
“Okay, not really.”
“Oh.”
How awkward. What was going on?
“Yeah…well…um…” Hart couldn’t seem to get any words out. “I thought I would like to help with props and backstage work, but the truth is…well…I wish I was singing or dancing instead.”
“But you said you wanted to be with me…”
“I know,” Hart replied, “and I thought I meant it, but I was thinking about it all day and…I changed my mind. I’m really sorry…”
“It’s okay, I guess,” Madison said, trying to sound agreeable, even though she felt a little put off by Hart’s change of heart. Was something else going on—and getting between them?
No, no, stop overthinking, Madison told herself. He’s just telling you what he really feels, and you’re blowing the whole thing right out of proportio
n…
Madison tried to calm herself down. Up on stage, Mr. Montefiore tapped his foot and worked with the team of janitors as they hung the highest of the track lights. Madison watched them. It was better than watching Hart. He was acting so distant. Was this karmic payback for the Will e-mail and for all of Madison’s daydreams?
At the end of the revue meeting, Madison and Hart said their good-byes, and Madison headed back to her locker. Her brain was exhausted from all the overthinking. She needed a BFF or a keypal connection right now, something that would screw her head back on straight.
Kids mingled in the hallways cleaning out old textbooks, notebooks, and locker decorations. Principal Bernard had designated this Locker Cleanup Day, and Madison had a lot of cleaning left to do. It was a good thing, too, just the thing to get Madison’s mind off Hart.
But when she opened her locker, the first thing she saw was a photo of herself with Aimee, Fiona, Chet, and—guess who?—pasted on the inside. Everyone in the photo was sticking out his or her tongue in a goofy pose. Hart had his eyes crossed, too. That had been a fun day.
Seventh grade had seemed so uncomplicated before the “boy” got added to “friend.”
“Hey, Maddie,” someone said, strolling up beside Madison. It was Madhur; arms filled with papers and books. “My locker is such a sty,” she complained.
“Mine, too,” Madison said. As she reached inside, a pile of things fell out.
“Didn’t you have revue rehearsal today?” Madhur asked.
Madison nodded. “Yes. You did, too, right?”
“Down in the basement. And it was seriously lame. All the performers were right there, but no one sang or danced. The downstairs piano was out of tune. What a waste of time.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Madison said, “ours was lame, too. I was thinking maybe I would drop out.”
“Drop out?” Madhur said. She sounded genuinely shocked.
“I think maybe I’ll quit. I don’t see the point,” Madison said. “I have so much else to do.”
“Quit? No way!” Madhur said. “You are not dropping out of the revue. It’s our last big show of the year.”
“Well,” Madison mused. “I don’t feel like much of a show-off.”
“You have to stay in the show,” Madhur said. “I am your friend, and I say so.”
Madison laughed. “Huh? What are you? The boss of me?”
Madhur nodded. “Absolutely. And those are the rules.”
“The rules?” Madison said, still laughing.
Aimee came over, followed by Fiona.
“Locker cleanup stinks,” Aimee declared, pinching her nose for effect.
“They should just let us toss everything in a pile and light it with a match,” Fiona said.
“Can we put Ivy in the pile, too?” Aimee said.
Madhur laughed.
“You should have seen her at rehearsal today,” Aimee said to Madison.
“What happened?” Madison asked.
“She stood onstage to dance for one of the group numbers. Midway through the song, she fell flat on her nose. I swear, I heard it crunch.”
“No-o-o-o!” Fiona said.
Madhur laughed again. “The classic Poison Ivy moment,” she quipped.
“Wish I’d been there,” Madison said.
“One very weird thing happened, though,” Aimee continued. “Hart came in to our rehearsal at the very end to talk to the teacher-adviser.”
“So?” Madison asked.
“So, why was he coming into the performers’ meeting? Isn’t he in the backstage group?”
Madison looked down at the linoleum floor. “I don’t know.”
“Wait,” Aimee said. “Hart specifically told me he was doing props so he could hang with you more before the end of school. He hasn’t switched groups, has he?”
“So what if he has?” Madison asked.
“That makes no sense,” Aimee said.
Madison just shrugged again. “Does anything make sense these days?”
Madhur and Aimee shrugged back. Then each girl returned to her locker to finish with cleanup. Madison glanced around to see if Lindsay might walk by, but she didn’t see her.
Someone else came up to her, though. It was Mariah, and her pink streaks were back again, although they were a little lighter this time.
“Nice hair,” Madison said.
“I couldn’t resist, even though the teachers will probably make me change it again,” Mariah said. “But my hair looks so boring when it’s the natural color.”
“I wish I had the guts to change my hair color,” Madison said.
“Why? You have gorgeous hair just like it is,” Mariah said.
“Thanks.”
“I can’t believe you guys are going to be in eighth grade soon,” Mariah said.
“I can’t believe you’re going to be in high school,” Madison said. “Are you scared?”
Mariah quickly replied, “No way!” and burst into a laugh.
Madison gave her a quizzical look. “You’re not?”
“Okay, maybe a little, just like any year in a new class or school. But I’m psyched to meet some new kids, too.”
“I’m so scared about next year, and I don’t know why,” Madison admitted.
“What else is up?” Mariah asked, raising an eyebrow. “Boy trouble?”
“Boys?” Madison said. “Me? No way.”
“You are so lying,” Mariah said, nudging Madison. “Come on, you can tell me. I know how to keep a secret. I swear.”
“Okay,” Madison confided. “There is one boy. We’ve known each other since we were kids…”
“Oh, yeah?” Mariah smiled. “So, what about him?”
Madison looked away. “It’s been this crush forever and ever. And it’s mutual…but then there’s this other guy who just showed up.”
“Another guy?” Mariah asked. “Hmmm.”
“He lives in New York City. I met him at turtle camp.”
“Turtle camp?” Mariah said, holding back her giggles.
“That’s what I called it. It was actually Camp Sunshine. Anyway,” Madison continued, “the point is: I’m stuck.”
“Does Forever Guy know about Turtle Camp Guy?” Mariah asked, giggling again.
“Well, not exactly…not like that…”
“Forever Guy is cool,” Mariah replied. “He’ll always like you, no matter what. Trust me.”
“How do you know that?” Madison asked.
“Because my brother is totally predictable,” Mariah said.
“Your brother?” Madison pinched her lips together in a frown. “Egg?”
“Yeah, that’s who you’re talking about, right? I mean, Egg is Forever Guy.”
“Egg?” Madison’s eyes got very wide.
“You’ve known each other since you were born, right?”
“Yeah, but…” Madison let out a little gasp. “Um…I was actually talking about Hart Jones,” she explained. “He’s Forever Guy.”
“Oh, really? He is?” Mariah said, cool as a cucumber. “Well, I’m an idiot, then. I just thought…Sorry.”
“You don’t really think Egg has a crush on me, do you?” Madison asked.
“Nah, nah, nah,” Mariah said. “I was just thinking out loud. I mean, we both know how much he digs Fiona.”
“Yeah,” Madison said, feeling much better. “I know she likes him.”
“Hey, Maddie!” Fiona came over to where Madison and Mariah stood and poked her head between them. “And what are you two blabbing about?” she asked.
Mariah, who was almost never at a loss for words, inhaled sharply, somehow rendered speechless by Fiona’s sudden appearance. She started to mumble something, but then stopped, waved, and started to walk away.
“Mariah?” Madison called out, but she disappeared around a corner.
“What’s the matter with her?” Fiona asked.
“Er…stomachache,” Madison said, lying to cover up.
“Did
Mariah say anything about the field trip tomorrow?” Fiona asked.
“No,” Madison said. “She wasn’t talking about school.”
“What was she talking about?”
“You,” Madison said with a nervous giggle.
“Me?” Fiona said, looking worried. “Why would she be talking about me?”
“I’m just kidding,” Madison said. “She was talking about her stomachache, I swear.”
“Okay, so why were you laughing? Stomachaches aren’t that funny.”
“No, but life is,” Madison said. “And we were just saying…seventh grade has been pretty hysterical, don’t you think? Like…did you think your brother Chet would ever admit to liking a girl? And what about your bee sting episode in the spring? And Ivy Daly as class president? Puh-leez…”
Madison went on and on, still trying to cover up for the fact that she’d just been talking about Fiona. It seemed weird. Like she had been backstabbing her BFF.
“I guess maybe you’re right. Seventh grade has been funny,” Fiona said.
Madison pushed her lips out, making a goofy face. “Funny!” she cried.
Fiona let out a laugh.
Then she and Madison ambled down the hall together, arm in arm, heading for Aimee’s locker.
Chapter 11
THE PIG ALARM CLOCK oinked, and Madison rubbed her eyes. She was awake almost immediately, keyed up about the field trip.
The field-trip outfit, however, left Madison a little less excited. The greenish brown, fatigue-style capris she’d selected the night before were a little snug around the hips. Plus, she wasn’t sure they were “weather appropriate.” The skies outside were more gray than blue, which meant there was a chance of showers, which also meant she should probably be dressing in something waterproof.
Wearing capris in the rain could mean damp ankles.
Madison headed back to the closet, picking through the other clothes that were hanging and piled up in there, including some loose brown cotton pants, a blue skirt with embroidered pockets, and a pair of patched jeans. After many unsuccessful try-ons, Madison decided that the capris were really the best after all. She tugged them back on, donned a dark green T-shirt, slid on her sneakers and some little ankle socks with brown trim, and pulled her hair into a French twist just like the one she’d seen some star wear to a movie premiere. It looked a lot like the way her favorite teacher, Mrs. Wing, wore her hair, too.
