Friends till the End

by Laura Dower

  “Well, isn’t that a fancy hairdo for a cloudy day,” Mom said. She’d been standing at Madison’s bedroom door.

  “How long have you been there?” Madison laughed.

  “Long enough to see you’re having a fashion emergency.”

  “Do I look okay?” Madison asked.

  “Well, your hair is great, but don’t you think your outfit looks a little…well, drab…A bit like you’re going into the army or something…”

  “The army? Mom, it’s camouflage. It’s supposed to be cool.”

  “If you say so,” Mom conceded.

  “Mo-o-o-o-om! Don’t tease me!” Madison wailed. She picked up one of the fluffy purple pillows from her bed and hurled it toward Mom.

  “Hey,” Mom cried out, catching the pillow. “Whatever you decide to wear, honey bear, you need to shake a leg. We don’t want to be late.”

  Since the kids from all classes needed to be lined up in front of the building for the buses to Lake Dora no later than eight thirty, Madison had decided to forgo the usual walk to school. Mom would be chauffeur for the morning.

  “Do you have your bathing suit?” Mom asked Madison on her way out the door.

  “Yup,” Madison said as she pulled up her T-shirt. “I put it on first. This way I don’t have to change clothes in front of the whole class. I hate that. Not that we’ll be doing much lake swimming if it rains…”

  “Well, hurry up with whatever else you have to do,” Mom said, turning to go. “I’ll be downstairs.”

  Madison took one last look in the mirror and then followed. Since the rush was on, Mom had packed up a cold orange (already peeled) and a fruit-and-nut granola bar for Madison to eat on the ride to school. Madison stuffed it into her bag and kissed Phinnie good-bye.

  By the time the two of them arrived in front of FHJH, most of the seventh-grade kids were already waiting there in groups. No one had really lined up yet. Madison gave Mom a peck on the cheek and hopped out of the car.

  “Hello!” Madison called out to Madhur and Fiona as she walked over to join them. Aimee and Lindsay came over a moment later.

  “Hiya, bus buddy!” Aimee cried, tapping Madison on the shoulder.

  “Bus buddy? Cool!” Fiona said. Then she tapped Lindsay.

  Jokingly, Madhur looked around and then tapped herself. “I guess I’ll just be my own bus buddy,” she declared proudly. The five girls laughed.

  The only difficulty with a fivesome was the fact that they weren’t an even number. Pairing off always left someone out. Usually, the five of them traded off on being the “solo” person, but most of the time, Madhur was odd girl out. Not that it mattered to her. Madhur survived as well on her own as she did in a crowd. That was a quality Madison envied.

  The teachers divided the bus lines up by homeroom at first, but then everyone screamed and moaned and complained. In the end, the kids got their way, arguing that friends should be able to sit with one another, since it was the end of the year. With “free seating” in place, Hart, Egg, Chet, Drew, and Dan lined up directly behind the girls. That was good news for everyone, especially Madhur. Now there were ten friends together: an even number. And Madhur didn’t have to worry about not having a bus buddy. Chet immediately slipped into the seat next to her. The rest stayed seated in their own pairs.

  “As you can all see, it looks like rain,” said Mr. Gibbons from the front of the bus. He was one of the teacher chaperones for the trip that day. Like the other teachers, he was dressed ultracasually, in jeans and a T-shirt emblazoned with the FHJH logo.

  “Mr. Gibbons is cute in regular clothes,” Aimee whispered to Madison, who promptly laughed out loud.

  “Are you kidding?” Madison cried, incredulous.

  “No,” Aimee said seriously. Then she cracked a smile. “Okay, maybe he doesn’t look that cute. I was just saying…”

  “Shhhh! We can all hear you, and you sound stupid!” someone whispered from a row ahead.

  Of course, Madison knew who it was. Who else but Ivy knew so well how to poke her nose…or in this case, her ears…into every situation? Ivy was good at hearing everything, except important information in science class.

  Madison glared up ahead at her nemesis, but Poison Ivy didn’t turn around.

  “Beast,” Aimee whispered under her breath.

  Madison laughed softly, hoping that Ivy had heard that at least.

  “So!” Mr. Gibbons said, clapping his hands. “Shall we sing a song?”

  A couple of kids at the very back of the bus groaned, but almost everyone else cheered. And so, for the next twenty minutes or so, most of the kids sang along with Mr. Gibbons.

  The ride to Lake Dora was as bumpy as ever. Madison found herself staring at the back of Hart’s neck, wishing that she were in the seat next to him. Strangely, he didn’t turn around once.

  “What’s up with Hart? He’s being so quiet.” Aimee whispered to Madison at one point. “Does he know about the whole Will thing?”

  Madison’s heart sank. “No, of course not!” she cried defensively. Then she thought for a moment. “At least, I don’t think he knows.”

  “See? Fiona and I told you…” Aimee said.

  “Told me what?” Madison snapped. Aimee’s comments were beginning to annoy her.

  For some reason, a vague memory from fifth grade popped into Madison’s head. She recalled catching a sunfish with Hart at another lake, Lake Wannalotta. There was a photograph of that proud moment somewhere. Was it at Hart’s place? Or was it back at her house? Why couldn’t Madison remember? For so many years, they’d danced around the idea of liking each other. Now that it was all out in the open, could it last? Could Madison make it last? She needed to be Hart’s girlfriend that summer and in the eighth grade. And in ninth grade after that. And then in high school, too, and maybe even college. This was one of those relationships that lasted forever, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that how it always worked in books and on TV shows?

  Madison heard Gramma Helen’s voice inside her head. Good things come to those who wait.

  Madison would just have to wait to see how everything turned out.

  “Can you believe this is our last field trip?” Fiona asked.

  “This year, you mean,” Lindsay said.

  “Yeah,” Fiona said. “But it feels like the end of something else, doesn’t it?”

  Madison shrugged. All that overthinking (again) about Hart had put her in a sour mood. She didn’t want this trip—or any trip—to be the end of anything.

  By the time the buses arrived at Lake Dora, the sky was beginning to clear. Madison hoped that that was a positive sign. Everyone disembarked and headed for the waterfront. The air was thick with humidity, probably due to the cloud cover. There was hardly any breeze, even close to the water.

  Down by the lake’s edge, some of the seventh graders sat on the sand, patiently waiting for the other groups to get there. A few camp instructors arranged themselves on the interconnected docks, waiting to assist anyone who wanted to swim or get on a boat. One kept blowing his whistle to keep the kids from dangling their toes in the water.

  Mr. Gibbons and the other teachers did their best to chaperone as the kids raced around to check out the water sports that were available. There were kayaks, rowboats, and rafts. And there were group competitions scheduled to start about a half hour after everyone arrived.

  Over a rusty bullhorn, Mr. Gibbons announced that the first event of the day would be the rowboat race.

  That meant that everyone had to get into their bathing suits or risk getting wet clothes.

  “Would the following students please step forward?” Mr. Gibbons called out. He read off some familiar names: P. J. Rigby, Beth Dunfey, Jason Szelewski, and Suresh Dhir. Then he called out some really familiar names: Walter Diaz, Drew Maxwell, Madhur Singh, Fiona Waters, Hart Jones, and—unbelievably—Ivy Daly.

  Ivy Daly? No way!

  This first wave of participants piled into row-boats. There were five boats, with two kids per boat
. Teachers had assigned the partners. Madhur partnered with Beth in a faded green rowboat with one cracked oar. Egg and Fiona were put together in a red boat. (Madison couldn’t believe they’d ended up together, the lucky ducks.) Then P.J. paired with Suresh, and Drew went with Jason.

  That left Hart and Ivy—together!—in a blue boat.

  Madison was the one feeling the real blues, though. She wanted to capsize that boat before letting Hart sail away with her enemy. How could the teachers have thought that Hart and Ivy made sense as boating partners?

  Aimee thought it was karma.

  “Of course they put those two together,” she said, “for all those Will comments yesterday. I told you.”

  Madison punched Aimee in the shoulder when she said that; not hard enough to leave a bruise, but hard enough so Aimee knew Madison was upset.

  “Ignore them. Let’s cheer Fiona and Madhur on,” Lindsay said.

  “Yes, let’s,” Madison said.

  Who was Madison kidding though. She couldn’t ignore them. The only rowboat racer she kept in her sights was Hart. Why were he and Ivy sitting so close together? Why was Hart smiling? And what was Ivy talking about nonstop?

  She was probably batting those eyelashes and flipping that hair. And even though Hart said he thought she was a loser, Madison knew that Ivy had ways of making things happen.

  The teachers blew their whistles. The race was on. The water on the lake started to get choppy as the kids rowed as fast as they could away from the shore and docks, out to a minicourse with buoys that had been set up a few yards away. Up above the lake, a trio of gulls circled around.

  Beth and Madhur’s boat looked as if it were going to tip over, but it stayed on an even keel. Everyone wore beat-up life jackets from the boathouse, just in case of an accident.

  “Go, Fiona! Go, Madhur!” Aimee cheered very loudly.

  Madison and Lindsay joined in. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Nearby, Madison heard Ivy’s drones cheering, too. “Go, Ivy! Go, Hart!”

  Hart?

  Madison shot them a look. How dare they cheer on Hart—her Hart?

  In the end, it was Drew and Jason who got back to the docks first and won the big prize, which consisted of two red ribbons that said YOU’RE THE TOPS! along the side.

  “That’s so cheesy,” Madison commented to Aimee.

  It was time for Madison to get ready. She had to peel off her fatigues, down to her bathing suit. The changing rooms at Lake Dora were crowded and had wet sand on the floor. Fortunately she was able to change quickly.

  After the first and second races, Madison hoped to talk to Hart, just to find out what had happened out there on the lake, but she couldn’t find him right away. When the third wave of boat riders moved in, her name was finally called, and she was paired up with some kid she hardly knew from her math class named David Smart. But she wasn’t totally stranded. Lindsay was in the same group of rowers, and she kept making weird hand signals to Madison from her place a few boats over. Madison was grateful for the distraction.

  Her mood changed for the better when she and David started rowing. Before she knew it, they had raced around their buoys, pulled up to the docks, and won the first prize in their group.

  When Madison stepped out of her rowboat, David’s friends rushed over with high fives for him. Madison’s pals did the same. That was when she came face to face with Hart again.

  “Nice rowing, Finnster,” Hart said. Madison tried hard to act cool, but she melted at the compliment. Besides, he looked adorable standing there in his damp T, palm-tree-print swim shorts, and backward-facing baseball cap.

  From that moment on, it was as if nothing bad or strange or tense had ever happened between the two of them. Hart seemed as attentive as ever.

  Aimee noticed the change. “I guess your boyfriend’s back,” she said.

  Madison made a face.

  Once again, the usual guy and girl friends clustered together for games of volleyball and horseshoes, and for lunch on the picnic tables. There was a momentary scare when Fiona, who was allergic to bee stings, was almost stung by one, but they all kept their cool. The day was hazy and lazy, and there were no more surprises; not even from Ivy or her drones. During lunch, teachers patrolled the picnic area, offering kids cold bottles of water and juice boxes. Despite being dressed in their casuals, the teachers were as officious as ever, wanting the kids to stay properly hydrated.

  At the various picnic tables, the topics of conversation were the same: how to feel about the end of school and how to deal with next year. At Madison’s table, Drew started talking up his big end-of-the-year bash, a blow-out party to be held in his backyard. Drew’s parties were always the biggest, loudest, and most expensive. In fact, they’d started seventh grade with a Drew Maxwell party. It hardly seemed possible that they’d reached the end of the year already—and would soon be headed back to his house for yet another bash.

  Suddenly, a burst of extraloud thunder interrupted their lunch. Everyone looked up just in time to see (and feel) big, fat raindrops. Egg opened his mouth to drink some; then everyone else followed suit and stuck out their tongues to taste the rain. Madison laughed at the sight of her classmates and friends sitting there at the Lake Dora waterfront, heads thrown back, tongues out.

  Mr. Gibbons ruined the picture-perfect moment with a whistle. “Everyone!” he cried. “No messing around! Let’s head indoors! Hurry! This looks like a bad storm.”

  Teachers rallied around the picnic tables to collect the kids and their lunches, making certain no garbage was left behind in the downpour. Everyone had to grab their clothing, too, before it got too wet. Many of the boys had on their swimsuits instead of shorts, so they raced for the changing rooms. The girls grabbed their T-shirts and sundresses and did the same.

  “Some field trip,” one kid grumbled as he dashed across a lawn in front of Madison. “This bites.”

  Madison leaned back and stuck out her tongue again. She disagreed. The rain tasted cool, and she didn’t mind it one bit.

  The changing rooms were crammed, and the air felt heavy and humid with everyone crowding in. Lake Dora’s rowboats weren’t the only things in need of repairs, Madison noticed. Several toilets were marked “Out of Order,” and one sink had no running water. But something about the broken-down state of things seemed right. Life, school, and even Lake Dora were imperfect things. And it was okay to be imperfect.

  The bus ride home in the pouring rain felt like something out of a movie, with the wind blowing hard outside and darkness moving in even though it was still the middle of the day. Madison and her friends had planned to spend most of the return bus ride playing Truth or Dare, but instead they stared out the wet windows, entranced by the weather.

  “Hey, kids,” Mr. Gibbons called out from the front of the bus. “Driver Joe tells me that the weather forecast is for rain until tonight and into tomorrow. So, we’re headed back to the school building for regular dismissal. Since we have about an hour before the school buses and your parents arrive to pick you up, we will unload the buses and have you go directly to your homerooms. Your homeroom teachers will have a snack and activities waiting for you there.”

  Kids on the bus booed softly. No one wanted to go back into the school building on a field-trip day. Madison, however, didn’t mind; she was having dinner that night with Dad and Stephanie, and getting home early would give her more time to get ready and do homework—namely, the science project.

  The bus lurched over the bumps in the road, and the kids screamed and wailed loudly, playing up the drama of the storm outside with a storm of their own inside the bus.

  “Hey, look at that!” Madhur cried out, pointing outside the window to the banks of a river alongside the road. There, the water was rising fast. Parts of the road were beginning to flood.

  Madison imagined their bus sliding off the road, taking a deep dive into the water, and floating away on the stormy current. She glanced around at her friends and classmates and at the teachers in
the seats around her. She imagined them floating away, too. And then she thought about something Mr. Gibbons had said in English class way back at the start of the year: expect the unexpected.

  Madison was always making and remaking plans for what she wanted at the end of seventh grade: a comfy relationship with Hart; good grades; a truce with Ivy; and so on. But perhaps it was better to look for the great un-expectations that were headed her way, rather than anticipating all the sure things. There were still enormous surprises to be had in the final weeks of school, like possible car accidents by the side of the road; rising, raging rivers; and even secret crushes.

  All Madison could really do was hold her breath, brace herself, and go with the flow.

  Chapter 12

  A WINDOW IN MADISON’S bedroom had been left slightly open during the rain-filled day. Now it was nearly nine thirty at night, and the air inside felt damp and cool for June.

  Phin curled up by Madison’s feet, purring more like a feline creature than a canine one. But he always purred whenever he sensed that there was something wrong with Madison. It was a comforting noise; it was his way of saying, “There, there, it’ll be okay.”

  Madison needed a little reassurance. She could never have been prepared for the day—and night—she had had. From the trip, to the way dinner with Dad went afterward, everything had been unexpected.

  Dinner was over now and Madison was online. She opened a late-day e-mail from Bigwheels. There was an attachment at the bottom: a poem. It had been a while since Bigwheels had sent one of those. Madison read over the text once, twice, and a third time. The corners of her mouth turned up in a crescent-shaped grin.

  For MadFinn

  My keypal, you

  Always make me smile,

  Delivering e-mail day and night.

  If I need a shout-out, you’re there

  Saying the right thing

  Online and never (ever) forgetting me.