Friends till the End

by Laura Dower

  Ivy Daly.

  When Madison saw Poison Ivy stride up the stage steps, hips swinging from side to side, in one of her usual color-coordinated, label-conscious outfits, she wanted to yelp, “No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!” How could anyone be fooled into thinking that this girl deserved the rank of Class Prez / Super Hot Chick / Coolest Clique Leader in the Seventh Grade? It was like one of Dad’s awful jokes come to life. Ivy’s way-too-short skirt belonged anywhere but in school, and yet, somehow she worked it; Madison was pretty sure she’d seen the skirt on the pages of a recent issue of Star Beat. Ivy was always brave enough to wear a skirt just that much teenier than everyone else’s. And how did she get away with wearing tops that were that much tighter than anybody else’s and shoes that were that much higher, too?

  As Assistant Principal Goode introduced the seventh-grade class president, more titters passed through the crowd. But Madison didn’t have to look very far to find the source of those.

  “Aim!” Madison said in hushed tones. “Be quiet, or you’ll get us all in trouble.”

  Aimee made a face. “No one heard me except you,” she chided.

  “I bet Ben heard,” Madison shot back.

  Aimee ignored Madison’s comment and leaned way back in her auditorium seat.

  By now, Ivy stood at the center of the stage. She was wearing makeup—a lot of makeup, as Madison could tell. Why was Ivy always trying to look and act so much older than she really was? Did she feel a need to keep pace with her older sister, Janet?

  “Hey, there, everyone,” Ivy said as she started her own speech. “Friends, parents, grandparents…First of all, I have to totally thank everyone for making me class president and making this year at Far Hills the best ever.”

  “She is so fake,” Fiona grumbled. Once upon a time, way back at the start of school, Fiona had been friends with Ivy, for about five minutes. But that had been a shorter than short relationship.

  “Fake isn’t the word for it,” Madhur grumbled back. “She’s a poser. I mean, would someone please tell me exactly what she does as president? Did I miss something?”

  Lindsay laughed out loud at that comment, which then caused a dozen people in the rows ahead of her—and some of the teachers a little farther down—to turn their heads in curiosity.

  Sorry, Lindsay mouthed to anyone who glared or cared.

  Madison tried really hard to pay attention, but she quickly gave up. What was the point? All year long, Madison and Ivy had been batting mean words and mean deeds back and forth. Nothing Ivy said would ever change that, especially not some kissy-face “I’m-just-so-sweet-how-can-you-stand-it?” speech prepared for the benefit of teachers and parents.

  “Okay,” Ivy said, “so I had no clue whatsoever about what to say. I’m so flattered to speak on behalf of all of you, as your class president and honorary member of the drama club…”

  Madison let out a grunt. “Please tell me she didn’t just say that. She’s so pathetic…”

  “Anyway, my parents gave me this twenty-dollar bill,” Ivy continued.

  “Twenty bucks?” Madison turned to Aimee. “And this information is supposed to matter to us…how?”

  Aimee just rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me. I just go to school here.”

  Ivy continued. “Then they crumpled up the money. Can you imagine? And I said, ‘Dad, why did you do that?’ and he said, ‘Ivy, you need to know something big: no matter what happens to you, your value and worth never changes. I can try to mark up and wrinkle this twenty dollars, but it will always be a twenty-dollar bill.’”

  Madison realized that what Ivy said actually made sense. Aimee must have thought so, too, because she nudged Madison in the ribs.

  “That’s kind of true,” Aimee whispered.

  Madison shrugged. “Yeah.” She had wanted to hate Ivy and her speech so much.

  The loud applause at the end of Ivy’s speech signaled an overall consensus in the room. As Gramma Helen would have said, Ivy had delivered the goods.

  Principal Bernard went back up to the microphone and introduced the eighth-grade class speakers. Madison had no idea who these students were. The eighth-grade valedictorian was some girl named Chauncy who wore a fedora and talked about how important it was to be different. As far as Madison was concerned, Chauncy was trying way too hard to be different—from her name to her hat. Meanwhile, the eighth-grade class president was a boy named Omar, who talked about “believing the dream.” Aimee summed up the speeches best when she said she felt like a waffle, drowning in syrup.

  Madison wondered again if she and her friends were all being too judgmental. After all, what would people say if Madison had gotten on the stage to speak? Or Madhur? Or Fiona?

  After a round of applause for the speakers, Principal Bernard motioned to Mrs. Goode to assist him in the awards portion of the ceremony. They were running twenty minutes behind schedule.

  “Thank you once again to all of our brave, wise, and wonderful seventh and eighth graders,” Principal Bernard said. “And now, without further ado, let’s begin the really fun part of today’s Moving Up Day bonanza…”

  Some kid from the drama club wheeled out a cart loaded with little miniature trophies, colored silk ribbons, and a big pile of certificates on embossed paper.

  “First and foremost, we want to award the student with the best academic record. Of course, you have met both of our honorées today: Mr. Ben Buckley and Ms. Chauncy Rivers.”

  Principal Bernard was good under the gun. He wasted no time getting down to business and reading off the important names. Of course, that didn’t prohibit him from telling a bad joke or two in between.

  “Why is school like a shower?” he cracked. “One wrong turn and you’re in hot water!”

  The audience laughed politely. Madison heard one laugh that was louder than all the others and her belly flip-flopped.

  Dad was out there.

  Only Jeff Finn would laugh that hard at such a lame joke.

  Aimee knew it, too. “So I guess your dad is here,” she said, grinning.

  Madison craned her neck to see if she could tell where Dad was sitting, but she didn’t see him. Principal Bernard was already passing out the next awards. He gave out individual achievement ribbons, and then moved on to sports awards, passing out trophies for best team players in each of the school sports. Egg was perched on the edge of his seat when it came time for the hockey trophy, but that went to some eighth grader who played goalie. When the time came to announce the girls’ soccer awards, Madison crossed her fingers and toes.

  “And the award for best soccer player goes to two people this year…Daisy Espinoza and Fiona Waters!”

  Madison practically leaped out of her seat. She was very happy for Fiona, and wistful at the same time. What if this was the last assembly with her? She hoped Fiona wouldn’t be moving all the way back to California. It would be sadder than sad.

  The final part of the awards was reserved for a special new category, which Principal Bernard introduced as the Far Hills Project. It was really just a bunch of gobbledygook, as far as Madison was concerned, something about best academic efforts on school projects. The awards had been chosen and were to be distributed by selected faculty members.

  It didn’t seem fair to give him all the kudos on MUD, but Ben Buckley won yet another award for his work in Mr. Gibbons’s English class. When Mrs. Wing stepped up to hand out a computer science nod, Egg turned to Madison with his thumb in the air and mouthed the words You totally have this one!

  Of course, Madison wasn’t surprised, or upset, a moment later when it was not her name that Mrs. Wing read at all. Instead, an eighth grader got the nod for her work on the school website’s polling section.

  Mr. Danehy stood up to hand out a science award. He had on a bow tie, and for some reason that made Madison giggle. Seeing him up there—goofy bow tie or not—made her feel a deep sense of relief, as though he were a symbol of everything that was over, really over, between Madison and seventh grade. He w
as definitely a symbol of what was over between Madison and Ivy; that was for sure.

  “My science groups in seven and eight did outstanding work this year,” Mr. Danehy said, taking time to give a rare compliment. “But I narrowed down the field today. The award for best science teamwork on a project goes to…”

  Madison spotted Hart and Chet out of the corner of her eye. They were hoping they’d be the winners; she could tell.

  “Suresh Dhir and Wayne Bronstein!”

  The room filled with polite applause. Madison sank back in her seat, feeling strangely deflated.

  “However.” Mr. Danehy said, holding up his forefinger, “I cannot stop there. In my mind, the winners of this honor include another fine pair of my students who overcame great obstacles to produce a sharp project. That’s why I would like a second award to go to Madison Finn and Ivy Daly.”

  Thunk.

  Madison was sure that her stomach had just dropped all the way to her feet. She felt clammy.

  “Maddie,” Aimee whispered. “He said your name. You have to go up onstage. Now.”

  The clamminess got worse as Madison’s mind raced. She had to go where? She was not getting on that stage… She was not getting an award…She was not standing next to the enemy!

  Poison Ivy, meanwhile, had already worked her way up to the podium in her dumb short skirt, with her hips swinging and her red hair flipping.

  Madison somehow managed to slink out of her row. Hart gave her hand a grab as she went by, which helped, but she was still pretty sure she’d fall flat on her face.

  Was everyone looking at her right now?

  Help.

  Mere seconds had passed between the time when Mr. Danehy had made his surprise announcement and the moment Madison climbed onto the stage, but it felt like an eternity. And there was Ivy, waiting by the podium, grabbing Madison’s hand and bringing her fist into the air with Ivy’s own, with a wide grin, as if they were the closest of partners—and friends.

  Help! Madison wanted to scream.

  Instead, she leaned over to shake Mr. Danehy’s hand with her free hand. He nodded approvingly. Then Madison glanced out at the crowd before her, all clapping. And then, in the middle of all the chaos, she saw Dad. He stood up in the back…and there was Mom, right next to him…and Stephanie, too…and Gramma Helen on the other side.

  Seeing family gave Madison a lot more comfort.

  “This is incredible,” Madison whispered to Ivy as they stood there.

  “I know,” Ivy said.

  “You didn’t do any of the work, and you got an award,” Madison said.

  “No kidding,” Ivy gloated.

  Madison pulled her hand away and gave the enemy a hard stare. “What goes around comes around,” Madison said sharply before stepping back and heading for the stage steps. “So I guess I’ll see you around…”

  Ivy’s smile disappeared in that brief exchange, but catching her enemy off guard wasn’t the best revenge. As Madison walked away, Ivy wobbled just a bit on the edge of her platform shoes. That caused her to drop the award. As she bent over to retrieve it, Ivy’s skirt rode up in the back. Madison saw everything, including her underwear. And so did half the assembly! As Ivy struggled to fix her outfit, she lost her balance a second time! It was the ultimate fashion malfunction for the queen of mean.

  It was perfect.

  Then Madison heard a few chuckles in the audience. She glanced back to see what the enemy had done now. Ivy stood perfectly still on the stage, frozen there like an icicle.

  As she clambered back to her own seat, proudly clutching her award in her right hand, Madison rubbed her ear with her left hand. Dad’s moonstone earrings had brought her more than luck today.

  From that moment on, Madison would consider this trophy as an award not for science class or for her blue sky project, but for sheer guts.

  It stood for the day when she finally took some of the air out of Ivy’s sails—without sinking too far down herself to do it.

  Real name: MADISON FRANCESCA FINN

  Nickname: Maddie, Finnster :>)

  Screename: MadFinn

  Grade @ FHJH: 7th Grade GRAD!!!

  Favorite class: Technology, English, and Writing

  Favorite teacher: Mrs. Wing (of course)

  Favorite after-school activities: The four Ws: website team (aka computer anything), watching Fiona’s soccer games, working backstage, and walking Phineas T. Finn, my pug.

  Hobbies: making collages, writing in my files, chatting online with my long-distance keypal, Bigwheels

  Best achievements: Winning a prize in the Halloween story contest on tweenblurt.com, getting the science recognition for all of 7th grade.

  Best memory: Anything with my BFFs, but especially these top-ten seventh-grade moments. …

  10. Celebrating Lindsay’s 13th birthday party in NYC and feeling like I was with my “Twin” sister (and shopping with Aunt Mimi on Madison Avenue, of course!)

  9. Skiing Big Mountain with Aimee and surviving the boys, the slopes, and a really big fight.

  8. Making it thru Mom’s reality video shoot @ FHJH – without losing my mind or all of my friends LOL

  7. Babysitting 4 Eliot at the FH pool – and realizing that I can really do something if I set my mind to it.

  6. Making it through Dad and Stephanie’s Texas wedding without a major meltdown, even when I sprained my ankle and everyone was hot and bothered and I missed home

  5. Fireworks (and much more) at Gramma Helen’s lake house (sigh)

  4. Working in the nursing hom and seeing anoter (good!) side of PID (code name for someone who shall not be named on this website)

  3. Winnign tickets 2 a Nikki concert and realizing the truth about friendship – and how appearances can be SO deceiving

  2. A big camp overnight, the bee-stinging field trip, the election website fiasco, and sooooo many more wild times w. my class (enemies included)

  1. Meeting Fiona Waters at the start of seventh grade, and finding friendship all year long with her, Aim, Madhur, and Lindsay … that made me laugh, cry, and wish the year would never end (but it has. Boo-hoo)

  Chapter 18

  THE DAY AFTER MUD, the science award, and the Ivy dismissal at school’s last assembly, Madison felt as if she could breathe easier. Sure, she was worried about the upcoming clash of family members at her house, but deep down she knew that the remnants of ill will from the Big D had melted away a long time ago. Or at least, she told herself that was true. Mom’s preparty tension level, however, reached an all-week high that morning.

  The morning got off to a terrible start when Uncle Rick called with some bad news: Aunt Violet’s tummy was on the fritz, so they would be hanging out in the hotel until she felt better. That news came around the same exact time that Phin knocked over a platter of fresh fruit that was sitting on the edge of the counter. Fortunately, Mom’s painted china dish did not suffer; however, the same could not be said of the fruit salad.

  As Gramma and Madison scrambled to pick up the chunks of pineapple, strawberries, and melon that were spread across the floor, Mom sat down in a kitchen chair and tried very hard not to cry.

  “I should never have done this,” Mom said, choking back the tears. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I should have known better. I have too much on my plate…”

  “Actually, Mom,” Madison said, trying to make a little joke, “you have nothing on your plate…well, not on this plate anyway.”

  Gramma let out a little laugh, but Mom remained stone-faced.

  “Mom,” Madison said reassuringly as she plopped a dented berry into the sink, “things have a way of working themselves out, don’t they?”

  Mom shot Madison a look. “You sound like Gramma,” she said.

  “And that’s not a bad thing, I assume,” Gramma Helen said with a smile.

  “Oh, Maddie,” Mom sighed. She stood up and grabbed Madison in both arms. “I’m just being a nervous Nellie for no reason. It’s work…it’s having your father and aunt a
nd uncle here…I don’t know why I’m acting this way.”

  Madison wanted to say, “It’s called meltdown, Mom, and to be honest I am glad to know you have them, too.” Instead, she just hugged back.

  After the cleanup, Mom calmed down a lot. Madison was grateful for the fact that through it all, Gramma Helen had been there for support—for both Madison and Mom. Sometimes it was hard for Mom to balance all of her work and outside activities. Did Madison really take that into consideration?

  It was Madison’s big day, post-MUD, but she couldn’t hog the limelight. Mom needed some TLC and attention today, too.

  It only took another hour or so before the entire house looked—and felt—completely put together. The table was set. The food was displayed on plates and in deep bowls. The windows sparkled. Gradually, the tension began to fade—except where Phin was concerned. Phin was running on some kind of crazy energy, as if someone had pulled a cord to get him going. His little nails went, click-click-click, all around the house. He was probably looking for more platters to knock over, judging by the way his little pink tongue kept darting in and out of his mouth.

  Pant, pant, pant.

  It was some time after one o’clock when Madison looked around her living room and realized that her entire family was standing there, in one place, and that everyone was smiling. Even Aunt Violet was there, happy. Her sick tummy had gotten better, and she and Uncle Rick had come right over.

  Dad and Stephanie stood on opposite sides of the room. Dad chatted with Gramma Helen (they’d always liked each other). Stephanie talked to Mom, which wasn’t really all that weird. They seemed to be laughing like old friends. Was it possible for two people to seem so at odds and yet so compatible at the same time?

  Madison smiled. Why had Mom been so worried? This was great.