by Laura Dower
“Oh,” Mr. Gillespie said, surprised. “And now you are—?”
“In junior high, Dad. Gimme a break. We are not babies anymore. Things are just different.”
“Watch your tone, Aimee, please,” Mrs. Gillespie reprimanded her.
Aimee sulked a little.
“Madison, I thought Ivy Daly always seemed like such a nice girl,” Mrs. Gillespie continued, “and you used to have so much fun together.”
Madison laughed out loud. “Well, you should see Poison Ivy now.”
“Poison who?” Mrs. Gillespie was lost. “What did you call her?”
Mr. Gillespie just shook his head. “You girls change friends like you change the cable-TV channels. I can’t keep up.”
“But Maddie and I are still here,” Aimee crooned. She stood up and danced her way into the kitchen with the dirty dishes.
“I stand corrected then,” Mr. Gillespie said. “You only change some of the channels.”
After dinner, while Aimee watched a TV show about jazz dancers, Madison went looking for an e-mail from Bigwheels in her mailbox.
Her heart leaped.
Maddie’s TweenBlurt.com friend had written back sooner than soon—as requested.
Phin jumped onto the bed next to Madison. Since her orange laptop was taking up his usual spot on her lap, Phinnie snuggled into Madison’s side, snorting and scratching at the sheets to make just the right spot for his little body.
From: Bigwheels
To: MadFinn
Subject: Poem and other stuff
Date: Mon 18 Sept 9:24 AM
Yes I am writing again! I’m writing from MY school media center. Ha! I decided that the best way to cheer you up was to send you a poem I wrote when I was feeling like a total outsider when it seemed like the world was after me and against me. It happens to everyone I think. People can be so mean and hurtful. Even though my poem says so, you are not alone!!! NO WAY! You know that these poems are not how I am always, right? I feel good mostly. But when I don’t it just comes out like here. ’Bye.
Frown
I am bugged by some of the people
Just who do they think they are?
I am crushed at school near and far
Sometimes I feel it like a squeeze
that won’t end
I want to stop the crush
I want to have a normal friend
I like to talk on the phone
It keeps me from being alone
If you are having a hard time too
Do not worry just tell someone about it
Like your mom or teacher too
Don’t ever let anyone get you down
And most of all don’t frown
Write back soon and tell me what happens with the election this week. Bye.
Yours till the gum drops,
Bigwheels
As soon as Madison read the poem, she knew that maybe she could believe this friend—way more than any of her enemies. Bigwheels’ e-mail energized her.
Tomorrow Maddie could find out who the culprit was, and she could make the election Web site work.
Then Mrs. Wing would really be impressed.
Chapter 12
THE CONSPIRACY
RUDE AWAKENING: OBJECTS on the calendar are closer than they appear.
Two more days left.
Suddenly the election is here and I am no closer to finding the computer hacker than I was yesterday or the day before that. Of course I never wanted to be Nancy Drew, but I could do better than THIS. I always guess the wrong rooms when I play Clue and hit all the dead ends in all the video games. Sometimes it’s like all the signs are here, there, and everywhere and I’m wandering aimlessly in the middle of it all.
And I’m Aimee-less, too. At least for now. She’s off dancing somewhere as usual. I’m slumming in the technology lab. Mrs. Wing isn’t saying much.
I haven’t seen much of Ivy. Right up until yesterday I actually thought she could still be guilty of the Web site problems STILL. Esp. when the FINN FOR PREZ thing came up. But now I know that’s not so.
It’s kind of bad, because if Ivy had been the one responsible and I had proved she was the one responsible then I could know for sure right know that Aimee Anne Gillespie would win the election.
Madison couldn’t stop thinking either, about conspiracies and homework and ice cream.
“Maddie!” Drew ran up to her later in the hallway after lunch.
“Drew, where were you?”
“In the other building …” He coughed. “I had to find—you—to show …” He stopped to catch his breath.
“Drew, what’s going on? Is this some kind of freaky joke again? Because if it is, it really isn’t funny—”
Drew shoved a folded-up piece of paper in front of Madison. “I think you should read this.”
Madison made a face as she grabbed the paper. She wasn’t sure what kind of game he was playing. All week long Drew had been everywhere she was, like a computer virus himself. He and Egg both.
The page was all scribbles and hard to read, but Madison could make out a few key phrases. She decoded its message.
Network passwords:
CSXRUNNING
ELECTIONBASE
ELECT891WING
File/words:
A:/GILA.BMP
A:/SKUN.BMP
A:/FINN.BMP
A:/WING.BMP
FLASH: TOMMY RULES
MF (locker combo)
658
“Where,” Madison gulped. “Where did you get this?” She almost dropped the torn sheet onto the floor.
Drew explained, “I was sitting there in social studies class and—”
“THAT’S MY LOCKER COMBINATION!” Madison shouted. She pointed to the note, shocked by its discovery. “Did you hear what I said?”
Drew nodded politely. “I think the whole hallway heard you.”
Madison quickly glanced over at the locker banks to make sure no one was listening or watching the two of them anymore.
“Pretty bad, huh?” Drew rocked from foot to foot.
“Where did you get this?”
“Like I said, I was in social studies class and these kids got up to leave and—”
“Drew! Someone has written down all the files and the combination to my locker and the network codes assigned by the school and Mrs. Wing. This is MAJOR.”
Drew nodded.
“This is like get-suspended-from-school MAJOR.”
Drew nodded again.
“Don’t just stand there—tell me what happened!” Madison said.
Drew sighed a heavy sigh (since he’d been trying to get a word in edgewise for the last five minutes). He had seen a group of kids hanging out before class with Tommy Kwong, one of the other candidates. They all sat together in social studies. This one kid dropped the sheet of paper on his way out of class.
“He didn’t feel it or see it or stop to pick it up,” Drew added. “So I picked it up for him. It was Brendan Lo.”
“Who’s Brendan Lo?” Madison cried when she heard his name. After a moment, she realized maybe he was in her science class. Or was it English? She couldn’t be sure.
“You don’t know him?” Drew asked. “That’s weird. Why would he—”
“I know!” Madison cried. “Tommy’s friend. The one who was a jerk at the mall. Whoa.”
Madison wondered why Brendan was stupid enough to let himself be discovered. How could someone who had been so computer smart, who had gone to all the trouble to hide his tracks, even signing her name, and who had been so clever about scanning photos and sabotaging the site … would then let himself get caught with a handwritten note? Madison remembered her Gramma Helen’s old saying once again: Think before you ink. It was truer than true right now.
Drew adjusted the paper and pointed to the page where it listed files: GILA (for the lizard), SKUN (for the skunk), FINN (for Madison), and then WING.
“Do you see that?
He was even gonna put up something online with Mrs. Wing’s picture or something. That’s what that means, right?”
Madison slid down the wall and hugged her knees.
This was it.
This was the proof Madison needed to show that she had not been responsible in any way for what had gone wrong on the Web site.
It was too good to be true.
“This isn’t some kind of joke, is it. Drew?”
“What?” Drew wrinkled his forehead. “Are you kidding?”
“I mean, you and Egg aren’t playing some mean trick on me, are you? Please tell me this note is real and that this kid Brendan really wrote it.”
Drew pulled the note back. “Look at this. Does it look fake? Anyway, how would we know your locker combination?”
In her heart, Madison knew Drew was telling the truth.
She rolled forward on one knee to get up and Drew extended his hand to help her. It was clammy and cool when Madison grabbed it. (She made sure Drew wasn’t looking when she wiped off her hand on her pants a minute later.)
“You know, if you’re gonna write a note or a letter or a journal, you’d think a person would keep it under lock and key or password-protect himself,” Madison thought out loud.
“Yeah.” Drew said.
“Sometimes people can be smart and stupid at the exact same time, you know?”
“Yeah.” Drew shrugged. “So now what do we do?”
Madison shrugged back.
“Let’s go tell Mrs. Wing. She’ll know what to do.”
Chapter 13
From: MadFinn
To: Bigwheels
Subject: Re: Poem and other stuff
Date: Wed 20 Sept. 3:29 PM
I have huge news so I should just spill it.
The Election Web Site Mystery is SOLVED.
Turns out that the person I told you about who was putting up all those pictures on the Web site has been suspended from school. It was this kid who was friends with one of the other candidates, Tommy. He was actually in my SCIENCE CLASS—can you believe it? He was good at computers and wanted Tommy to win soooo much that he decided to mess with MY site. I guess Brendan wanted to embarrass me and the rest of the candidates so Tommy would be the only person left to pick.
What a weird twist. It also turns out that Brendan wasn’t really a part of Tommy’s crew, he just wished he was. So he figured doing this would make people like him more. It’s like a bad movie of the week on TV!!! I feel so bad for this kid.
Tommy says he didn’t know anything but he got pulled from the election anyhow. AND he got suspended for a week. SO harsh.
By the way, you are maybe the best poet I have ever read for a seventh grader. I mean, how are you so good? I have read your poem over and over and it is so like my life! I think the title could be “Crushed” maybe—something like that.
Please please please keep your fingers crossed for my friend Aimee. I think she really could win this school election tomorrow w/one candidate gone now. Here’s hoping.
Yours till the web links,
MadFinn
Brrrrrrrring.
By the time Thursday’s 1:10 bell rang and the announcement for the election assembly came over the loudspeaker, Madison was ready to scream for joy. What would Ivy’s drones Rose Thorn and Phony Joanie say when they realized their crowned princess Ivy was an L-O-S-E-R?
Classes were excused from seventh period so kids could hear the candidates’ speeches and vote.
All of a sudden election day was here—and almost over.
“Attention! Students?” Principal Bernard tapped on the mike once everyone had taken seats in the auditorium. “Now, you know why we are all here?” Mr. Bernard’s voice lilted so he sounded as if he was always asking a question.
Madison rolled her eyes as the lights were dimmed to show Campaign USA, one of those educational, how-to videos principals and social studies teachers liked to show in assembly. During the video, kids were whispering, rolling spitballs, and even zapping messages to each other on their iPods (which should have been confiscated, of course, but weren’t).
Madison sat up in her seat a little taller.
She could just see the top of Hart’s head.
After seven minutes, when the lights went back up, Mr. Bernard cleared his throat. As always, he spoke into the microphone a little too closely.
Sqweeeeeeeeee.
Everyone cringed from the feedback.
“Now, let’s announce Far Hills’ candidates for class president, starting with class—”
Sqweeeeeeeeee.
Half the room clapped and stomped on the floor while the other half fanned themselves with flyers. The teachers had handed out a Far Hills Junior High Elections Guide, so everyone knew the rules, but of course no one had really read it. It was carefully attached to a printout of the candidate profiles Drew and Madison had posted on the Web. Tommy’s section had been whited out.
Thankfully, Madison noticed that these flyers carried real photos of candidates and not pictures of lizards or skunks or Madison Finns.
Madison glanced around. A few rows back, Drew Maxwell caught her eye and waved. She waved back but then turned around again, suddenly embarrassed even though she didn’t know why.
Was he smiling at her?
Madison looked back once more, but Drew was talking to Egg by then.
“As you know, we take elections at Far Hills very seriously, students,” Mr. Bernard said, demanding everyone’s undivided attention. “Would you please give this year’s candidates your warmest welcome?”
Onto the stage walked Montrell, then Poison Ivy, and Aimee.
Mrs. Wing was up near the stage fiddling with both a video camera and an instant camera. She was getting footage and photos for the Web site.
Montrell talked about how the school needed to give way less homework and throw pizza parties every Friday. Of course, he was a basketball player, so team sports was his main focus.
Madison groaned when Ivy stepped up to the microphone. It was because of the way she did it, with a sweep of her hand and a toss of her head, as if she were posing for a modeling shoot.
She acted like a winner and no one even had voted yet.
“I think Far Hills Junior High needs to bond together. We should all look out for each other and be friends.” Ivy’s voice was earnest but Madison knew she wasn’t. How could the Queen of Mean call “bonding” and “friendship” her goals as class president?
Between Tommy’s scandal and Ivy’s attitude, Aimee had to win this vote.
Finally it was Aimee’s turn. She pirouetted onstage, making an entrance, of course. She had written her own speech the night before with the help of Maddie, Roger, Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie, and Fiona (over the phone).
“Go, Aimee!” Fiona shouted in Madison’s ear. She was crossing her fingers, acting as superstitious as Madison.
Madison clapped loudly, pinching her eyes shut just so she felt a little less nervous. This was her best friend and her best chance to stop Poison Ivy before Far Hills turned into her kingdom. Madison didn’t want Junior High to turn out just like elementary school.
Aimee’s voice was a little shaky at first.
“Let me begin by saying how much I love running for class prez. I love it. You guys are all really great. Doing this has given me the chance to meet lots of you and I think that being class president is so important. …”
She warmed up after a while. Madison was trying to pay attention throughout, but she kept getting distracted by Hart’s head again each time he shifted in his seat.
“So I promise I will do my best. Even better than the rest …”
Madison knew this was near the end. She clapped—hard.
“Go, Aimee!”
The rest of the audience clapped, too. Even Egg and Drew circled their fists up into the air. “Woot! Woot! Woot!”
As soon as all the candidates were done, a loud kid sitting behind Madison said, “Let’s get outta here alrea
dy.” She was painfully reminded that not everyone really cared as much as she did about school elections. Then again, Aimee didn’t need everyone’s vote to win. She just needed enough to whup Ivy Daly fair and square.
Up on stage, Madison watched as Montrell shook Aimee’s hand and then Ivy’s. But Aimee and Ivy took a moment before they shook, smiling their plastic smiles. People who didn’t know they were enemies never would have been able to tell what was really going on. Only Madison and Fiona knew.
The applause for candidates continued right up until the moment when the vice-presidential hopefuls came out, but Madison stopped paying attention altogether by then. She craned her neck to see what Hart was doing and kept her eyes on him.
Once all seventh-grade reps had been presented and given their chance to speak, Mr. Bernard’s voice boomed again over the microphone. “Thank you, students it’s time to vote.” He leaned into the mike and the sharp, metallic sound of feedback blared up once again.
Sqweeeeeeeeee.
Kids covered their ears. Principal Bernard quickly turned the microphone over to the best computer teacher on the planet, Mrs. Wing. Today she was wearing a scarf instead of beads. Madison could see multicolored numbers all over it.
“Weren’t those speeches great?” She led the auditorium in another burst of applause. “Now, thank you all for paying attention to our candidates. I know most of you have visited our exciting new Web site. This year is very special because for the very first time we are voting online. I would like to take a moment to thank a few people who have helped make this election Web project possible. First, Mr. Lynch in ninth grade, who programmed the basics and got us up and running. Second, Principal Bernard who graciously gave the technology area a new proxy server over the summer. And of course to Madison Finn, Walter Diaz, and Andrew Maxwell who have worked very hard—”
“Yeah, Finnster!” Madison heard Hart yell from the front row. Everyone in the auditorium clapped and laughed at the same time.
Egg went “Woot! Woot!” again.
