Caught in the Web

by Laura Dower

  Madison turned around. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna do it,” Madison mumbled. She was happier than happy to get her mind off Hart. “Are you?”

  Fiona shook her head.

  “What are we talking about?” Aimee asked from one row over. “Are we talking about the dance?”

  “No, we’re talking about an Internet contest,” Fiona said. “On TweenBlurt.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Madison tried to watch Hart and talk to her friends at the same time, but it wasn’t working so well. Hart was turned halfway toward them, wearing a jewel-green shirt that made his eyes sparkle. She still had a ghost of a feeling where his hand had brushed her arm.

  “Earth to Maddie,” Fiona joked.

  “Oh. Sorry.” Madison snapped back to the conversation. “TweenBlurt. Yeah, the Web site, Aimee, where you can go online and chat. You know.”

  “I know that, Maddie.” Aimee chuckled. “But I’m pretty much clueless about online chatting.” Madison didn’t understand how Aimee’s dad could have a cybercafé in his bookstore, while Aimee still hadn’t gotten her own screen name.

  “But you are the queen of chatting, Aimee,” Madison teased. “Just not on the computer.”

  “Which is why you just have to sign up!” Fiona commanded. “Then the three of us can meet up on TweenBlurt and talk. You can get your own screen name. It’ll be the best, Aimee.”

  Fiona explained how she and her brother, Chet, had twin screen names. She was Wetwinz with a z, and her brother Chet was Wetwins with an s. Aimee agreed that was pretty inventive.

  The classroom began to fill up slowly. Madison counted sixteen volunteers. Even Egg and his good buddy Drew were there.

  Señora Diaz charged in behind students. “Hola, estudiantes!” she proclaimed, a little out of breath. “Cómo están? Tienen ganas de que llegue el baile?”

  Most kids didn’t have a clue about what was said since they were in basic Mandarin, not Spanish. But Egg tried to help. “She wants to know if we’re excited about the dance,” he explained.

  If anyone could translate Señora Diaz, Egg could. Señora Diaz was his real-life mother.

  “Thank you for your help, Walter,” Señora said sweetly, as if she were pinching his cheek. Egg muttered something under his breath. Madison knew he hated it when Señora called him by his real first name like that. Mothers who were teachers were way more embarrassing than plain old ordinary mothers.

  “Señora Diaz.” Aimee’s hand was up in the air. “Are we supposed to wear costumes to this dance?”

  A kid in a blue jacket sitting near the door asked, “Do we have to pay?”

  “Is there going to be stuff to eat?”

  “Will there be a live band?”

  “Settle down, everyone.” Señora inhaled deeply and scratched her head with her pen. “Let’s go slowly. Estámos preocupados, no? Lots of ground to cover.”

  A couple of kids groaned. Egg leaned across a desk and whispered, “What are you going to the dance as, Maddie? A dork?”

  “Quit it,” Madison growled.

  “Silencio!” Señora said as she handed a piece of paper to someone in the front row. “Please pass this sheet around and sign up your names and homeroom and phone number. This is our committee contact sheet.”

  They would be splitting up into task teams for whatever needed to get done. Seventh graders had all the grunt work of the dance. Eighth and ninth graders just had to show up.

  “Are we doing a scary hallway?” Aimee asked. “My brothers said we always do—and that it’s the best part of the whole dance.”

  “El Vestibulo! Sí! Of course!” Señora Diaz said. Vestibulo was the Spanish word for “hallway.” In addition to decorating the main part of the gymnasium with streamers and signs, designated areas of the gym would be set aside with aisles of space just wide enough for kids to pass through in the dark. Curtains were drawn all around that space to form a labyrinth. No one could tell which direction was which once inside the curtains. Plus students volunteered to “stand and scare” as unwitting visitors passed through.

  “You scream as kids go by,” Señora said. “Un grito! Right, Walter?”

  Egg shrank down into his chair.

  All Drew could do was snort. He always laughed when Egg got embarrassed. He laughed whenever Egg did anything.

  Madison was busy deciding what task team she wanted to help with most. She knew she didn’t want to scream in the scary hallway. She didn’t want to deal with food, either. That was too messy.

  Decorating seemed like the best option. She got along well with crepe paper, balloons, and masking tape. Madison had an eye for color, especially the deep orange of construction paper pumpkins.

  Thwack!

  The door slammed open and the entire room got as silent as a tomb. Everyone turned.

  Ivy walked in fifteen minutes late. She said, “Sorry,” but she didn’t look very sorry. She flipped her hair twice. “This is the Dance Committee, yeah?”

  “Take a seat, dear,” Señora Diaz said, motioning down toward the front.

  “Ex-cuse me,” Ivy said, stepping over someone’s bag. She made a big scene, stepping on four kids just to get to the one empty chair down near Señora’s desk. It was the chair next to Hart.

  Madison glared at the space between their seats. She imagined a force field or fence between them. One touch, and pzzzzzzt!

  “Look who’s here—” Aimee whispered, gently nudging Madison. “Figures.”

  By the time she got settled, Ivy’s late entry had caused so much commotion that the meeting was temporarily off track. Egg and Drew were cracking each other up. One kid in the back row even had an iPad out.

  “Atención!” Señora Diaz yelled. “Jacob, put that away now or I’ll confiscate it. Look, I think we need to make a dance committee rule that any latecomers to meetings will be excused—permanently—unless I get some valid note or explanation. Is that clear?”

  Madison wished Señora would “permanently excuse” Ivy right then and there.

  “Ahem.” Ivy cleared her throat and spoke up in a soft voice that sounded nothing like the obnoxious Ivy Madison knew. “I’m really, really, really sorry about being late, Señora.”

  “Oh?” Señora Diaz crossed her arms. “And your note?”

  “I don’t have a note exactly, but I was at the nurse … and next time of course I’ll get one. I am sooooo sorry.”

  “What a liar!” Madison thought. She knew for a fact that Ivy had been nowhere near the nurse that day. She wasn’t sick! She’d probably been in the girls’ bathroom, putting on lip gloss. Ivy sounded so sticky sweet, but Madison knew about the poison that bubbled underneath.

  As Señora got the meeting focused again, Fiona raised her hand to be excused for soccer. Señora sighed and reluctantly let her leave.

  “Before you go, what task team do you want to be on?” Señora asked as Fiona gathered her things.

  Fiona said, “Food,” without missing a beat.

  Señora asked who else wanted to be a food volunteer. Almost every boy in the room raised his hand. Madison thought at first that was because they all wanted to be around Fiona. But it wasn’t. These boys were just plain hungry.

  After Fiona left, Señora began signing up names for the dance and music task team list. Aimee’s hand shot into the air right away to be the dance task team leader. After all, she was the best dancer in seventh grade. It made the most sense. Not even Rose, Ivy’s dancing drone, challenged Aimee when it came to this.

  Aimee leaned over to ask Drew if he’d help pull together all the music, too. Drew’s father was mega-rich. The Maxwells had a recording studio right there on their own property. He could make the best Halloween mix ever.

  “Who would like to help lead our decorating crew?” Señora Diaz asked next. Ivy’s hand went up. So did Madison’s.

  “Well.” Señora seemed pleased by their double enthusiasm. “What do you each have to say?”

  Ivy started talking as if she’d already been put i
n charge. “I think, as class president, I know what the decorating for our dance should be. I would like to organize decorations. And I really think I can handle the scary hallway setup, too …”

  “Fair enough,” Señora Diaz said. “Señorita Finn? Would you like to add anything?”

  “Well … just …” Madison cleared her throat. “I just wanna say that—” The words got stuck on the way out.

  “Madison,” Ivy interrupted in her hideous, sticky-sweet voice. Madison’s stomach curdled. “I really think we both know who’d be better at taking care of the decorating, don’t we?”

  Madison didn’t know what to say to that.

  But Aimee did.

  “Excuse me,” Aimee interrupted. Her face was blotchy and Madison feared she might haul out and punch Ivy right there. She looked that mad. Aimee took things very personally when it came to Poison Ivy.

  “We do know who’d be better, Ivy. But I think Madison would like to give you a chance, too.”

  Gotcha!

  Madison covered her mouth, surprised—and grateful.

  Drew snorted again.

  Ivy acted stunned.

  “Now, girls,” Señora chimed in. “I don’t think we need that kind of talk.” She looked squarely at both girls, squinting and thinking for a moment. Madison sat still. Ivy flipped her hair.

  Señora spoke up. “There’s more than enough work to go around for two or more people. I think Madison and Ivy should both lead this task team.”

  “What?” Ivy and Madison said at the same time. “You mean—”

  “Sí!” Señora Diaz said in Spanish emphatically. “You will lead the decorating task team together. That is my final decision.”

  In one fleeting moment, Señora Diaz had sealed Ivy and Madison’s Halloween dance fates. Now Madison and Poison Ivy weren’t only partnered in science class—they were matched up after school, too.

  The decorators worked on the to-do list for the scary hallway first. It started out okay—without any fights or disagreements. Madison hoped it would stay that way. She scribbled some notes. Everyone had great ideas, and the meeting lasted over an hour. When Madison got home, the notes on her laptop became an official file on her laptop.

  Halloween Dance: To Do

  Get vibrating rubber hands with fake blood (Ivy)

  Plastic ax from props in basement

  Brain gelatin mold (home ec?)

  Eyeballs suspended from the ceiling (if possible)

  Sheets (everyone bring one set plus curtains)

  Sound effects music (esp. screaming—Mrs. Montefiore in the music dept.)

  Monster makeup (green, white clown makeup, black nail polish from Rose S.)

  Dry ice machine (Principal Bernard to help get)

  Bats, rats, and spiders (Madison)

  Madison decided she’d be the best person to make spiders, roaches, and moths out of black and brown construction paper. Her love of animals and all things creepy-crawly made her perfect for the job.

  Ivy decided that she wanted to put up all the balloons. Probably because the boys were already talking about playing with the helium machine. Madison wondered if that was Ivy’s key motivation: blow up balloons, meet boys. Then again, everyone loved the idea of inhaling helium and talking like a squeaky Munchkin. Ivy always did things that were popular.

  Suddenly Madison’s e-mail box blinked. It even had a red exclamation mark next to it.

  Importance: high!

  From: Bigwheels

  To: MadFinn

  Subject: Happy Columbus Day?

  Date: Tues 17 Oct 5:20 PM

  I know I’m like 2 wks late, but did I say happy Columbus Day? Or is that holiday just a bad joke? My old camp friend said Columbus didn’t really discover America. Is that true? I figured you’d know.

  Mom & Dad are officially back together. Did I tell you that already? Dad bought her flowers yesterday, so I am feeling happy. They were roses. Mom keeps humming, though, and it’s getting on my nerves.

  How is that guy you have a crush on? What is his name again? Write back or else, okay?

  Yours till the peanut butters,

  Bigwheels

  P.S. Do you have a Halloween dance at your school? I have to make cupcakes for mine. I bet you’re making posters for the dance on your computer, you’re so good at that artistic stuff.

  P.P.S. What are you dressing up as for Halloween?

  Madison clicked REPLY immediately. Sometimes the way she and Bigwheels thought and talked about the same things was scary. Her keypal hadn’t guessed that Madison would be on the decoration committee, but anything else she talked about was so true.

  From: MadFinn

  To: Bigwheels

  Subject: Re: Happy Columbus Day?

  Date: Tues 17 Oct 6:10 PM

  Hi!!!!! Thanks for writing back & for your advice.

  To answer all your comments and questions in order (sort of):

  1. Happy Columbus Day to you, too.

  2. There are some people who think Columbus wasn’t the only guy. That’s true. My mom almost produced a documentary on that subject. (Did I tell you that she makes movies? Mostly nature stuff, but sometimes profiles on famous people, too, like Christopher Columbus.)

  3. I am so happy about your parents. WOW!

  4. My crush is doing okay (see my question below).

  5. We DO have a Halloween dance. I can’t believe you asked me that question! We just met about it today. I was put on the decorating committee, BUT there’s just one problem (see my question).

  Now my questions for you.

  1. How can I get my enemy (you know) away from the guy I like? She’s after him, I know it!

  2. How can I be on a dance committee when my enemy is in charge? She’s everywhere I go. Help!!!

  Okay, that’s all for now. Bye! WRITE BACK.

  Yours till the scare crows,

  MadFinn

  P.S. Do you make up scary stories or just poems? Just curious. TweenBlurt is having a special Halloween writing contest. Are you entering?

  She clicked SEND and watched the e-mail disappear. Madison was thinking about how great it would be if Bigwheels wrote something for the contest, too.

  But then Madison thought some more.

  What would it be like to compete against a keypal at that contest? Competition got in the way of everything. Competing with Ivy for the decorations committee and for Hart was enough for one day.

  Let the Halloween games begin.

  Chapter 3

  AS SOON AS MADISON arrived home from school the next day, she yanked her nubby brown sweater from the closet and down over her head. Her hair got static-electrified when she did that. She had an entire halo of split ends.

  It was extra chilly in the house. Fall was beginning to make moves toward winter.

  Madison wanted to power up her laptop and type into a new file called “Caught in the Web.” She had spent a half hour scribbling inside her notebook during free time in Mrs. Wing’s class, trying to come up with ideas for a story for the Halloween Web contest

  Unfortunately, she had zero ideas that really worked.

  She also had zero time. Her dad and his new girlfriend, Stephanie, Madison, and Aimee were going on a late afternoon trip to Peterson’s Farm. The four of them were going to get pumpkins and cider, a Finn tradition begun by Dad and his family years ago.

  Madison had invited Fiona to come along, too, but Fiona had an important soccer practice (again).

  Peterson’s Farm was a half hour outside of Far Hills in a town called West Lake. There wasn’t actually much of a lake there anymore, but when Dad was little, his parents brought him there every summer to swim and every winter to ice skate. Within a mile of the place, Dad usually got nostalgic.

  “Do I look fat in this sweater, Mom?” Madison asked, walking back into the kitchen. She’d chosen brown corduroys to color-coordinate her bottom with the top.

  “You look nice and warm,” Mom
said, ignoring the fat part of the question. “Now, don’t forget to get me some of that corn relish at the farm, okay? And wear your Timberlands, not those sneakers. It’s muddy out.”

  “It should be you going with us, Mom,” Madison said, picking at cookies that had been left on the kitchen counter. “It’s just not the same anymore …”

  “Maddie,” Mom said. She stopped what she was doing, leaned over, and gently rubbed a finger behind Madison’s ear. “Look, Maddie, I know it’s hard. I know this is the first real fall since your father and I split up—”

  Madison rolled her eyes, so Mom grabbed her gently by the shoulders.

  “Madison, later on this week you and I will do something that’s fun just for us. Like making pies—or raking all the leaves in the backyard.”

  “Raking? That’s your idea of fun?” Madison moaned. “Are you kidding?”

  “Of course I’m only kidding!” Mom looked right into Madison’s eyes again. It felt like she was staring right through her skin, bones, and everything.

  Madison didn’t feel like talking all of a sudden. She just hugged Mom.

  “Honey bear,” Mom continued to speak. “You’ll love going up to West Lake. I know it. And you like Dad’s girlfriend … what’s her name?”

  “Stephanie,” Madison said. Mom sometimes forgot little details like names.

  “Yes, Stephanie,” Mom repeated slowly. “Well, you said you like her. What’s the problem?”

  “She’s just not you,” Madison said.

  Mom squeezed her daughter around the middle. “Do me a favor and try to have a good time, Maddie. Try.”

  Tap tap.

  Aimee was outside the kitchen door, face pressed so her lips went splat like a big guppy mouth kissing the glass. She’d changed her outfit since school, too.

  Tap tap tap tap.

  “I’m coming!” Madison said, opening the sliding doors.

  “Hiya!” Aimee blurted, dancing inside. “Hey, Mrs. Finn!”

  When she said “Finn,” Phin, the dog, came running to say hello.

  “Well, Aimee,” Mom said. “Don’t you look as pretty as always!”