by Laura Dower
“Egg!” Aimee yelled. “Who cares about Egg? I’m talking about Hart.”
“Oh,” Madison said.
“‘Kick me’?” Lindsay said with a slight giggle.
Fiona smirked. “He should have put, ‘Kiss me.’ He was practically doing that anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” Madison exclaimed.
“She’s right, Maddie,” Aimee said. “Hart was standing on top of you, like, the whole time he was here. What was going on? Did we miss something? Did you guys start dating and forget to tell us? I mean, it’s been a long time coming, but really…”
“We are not dating,” Madison asserted. “I would tell you if we were. I tell you everything.”
“Everything?” Lindsay asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Lindsay!” Madison cried. She blushed instantly.
“Hart Jones wouldn’t let go of your arm, Maddie,” Fiona said. “I think you have to accept that. Egg even noticed. I could tell. I don’t know about the other guys. Chet needs to be hit by a brick before he notices anything.”
“I think you three are imagining things,” Madison said.
Fiona, Aimee, and Lindsay stood there with their hands on their hips and looks of utter disbelief on their faces.
“Believe what you want to believe, Maddie,” Aimee said.
“He’s close,” Fiona said in a high-pitched voice. “Or, as you would say, he’s closer than close.”
Lindsay nodded. “Yup.”
“Close to what?” Madison asked.
No one answered in words. The three BFFs just grinned. And of course, Madison knew what Hart was close to. She’d been waiting. He’d been waiting. They’d been on the verge of this for a long time now, ever since he’d first nicknamed her Finnster, back in elementary school.
Another bell rang in the hallway. They had to dash to class but agreed to meet back at the lockers during the next free period. There was so much to talk about: the Hart incident, the party, and who knew what else.
Madison raced to her science class, which was one flight up from where they’d been standing. She readjusted the sleeve of her sweater. Hart had stretched it with all of that pulling.
“Miss Finn,” Mr. Danehy said as he drummed his fingers on his desktop. “You are late. You know I don’t tolerate lateness.”
“I know,” Madison said meekly. “Sorry.”
She slinked into her assigned seat. Everyone’s eyes were on her—including, from across the room, Hart’s. She sensed that Hart wanted Madison to turn and smile or give him some kind of acknowledgment, but she wouldn’t budge. Instead, she turned her head toward her lab partner: “Poison” Ivy Daly.
“You look awful,” Ivy growled. She held one hand up, examining her manicure. “Ever consider getting a makeover?”
Madison’s stomach was still grumbling. This time, it was heard—by the enemy, of all people.
“What did you have for lunch?” Ivy joked. “Should I be worried?”
Madison pressed her hands over her face. She felt hot and clammy at the same time. Was it possible for so many embarrassing, torturous events to happen simultaneously?
Apparently, yes.
No sooner had Ivy made her crack about Madison’s makeover and her growling tummy than Mr. Danehy clicked his ruler on his desk.
“Attention, students,” he said. He called on one of the kids in the front row to help him distribute some printouts to everyone in the class.
As the printouts were distributed, Mr. Danehy continued to speak.
“What you have in front of you is an important document,” he said. “The school district has decided to give some practice standardized tests next week, starting on Monday. This sheet has the order of the testing. There is no specific study manual, but I assume you will all do your best to prepare.”
“Huh?” Madison said aloud without even realizing it. “How can we prepare for something when we don’t know what it is?”
A couple of other kids in the class seemed to concur.
Mr. Danehy scratched his head. “I suppose you’re right, Miss Finn, but I’m afraid I don’t control the test.”
A silence hung over the room. Kids fidgeted in their chairs and absentmindedly flipped through their Earth Science Is for Everyone textbooks.
Madison quickly glanced in Hart’s direction to see how he was dealing with the news about the test.
Hart was looking right at her.
Madison didn’t know how to react. Without thinking, she stuck out her tongue.
She meant it as a sarcastic response to the news about the standardized test, of course. But Hart didn’t look as though he understood. He didn’t smile. He didn’t say, “Oh, that’s so funny, Finnster, hardy-har-har.”
Hart just ran his fingers through his brown hair—and looked away.
Then Madison thought of something even worse than Hart’s not understanding what she’d done.
If the big test was on Monday, what would happen to Lindsay’s special birthday weekend?
Chapter 4
The Dilemma
Lindsay called me last nite b/c she was STILL wondering if maybe she should cancel her party. She was freaking out about this on Tuesday AND Wednesday and now it’s Thursday and she is STILL wondering!!
I know why. Everyone knows.
Lindsay takes tests really, REALLY seriously (& of course I do too). She has this thing about having a perfect grade point average. Mostly she gets A+ instead of just A. She is that smart. She’s afraid that we’ll miss studying in New York.
I tried to set her straight. I told Lindsay that even though the test was important, there was NO WAY she could cancel her amazing birthday celebration. OMG! The 4 of us have never ever gone to NYC together even though it’s just ½ hour away. This is one of those lifetime opportunities. And besides, we could study on the train, right?
But even when I begged, Lindsay still seemed unsure. I wanted to scream. What’s her dilemma?
Rude Awakening: This is waaaaay more than just a birthday. It is a medical emergency. We practically need to take CPR to keep the life in Lindsay’s party.
Madison hit SAVE.
Her laptop buzzed as it saved the file, and she tapped her fingers nervously on the desktop, waiting for the final “you’re all set!” beep. She always hated it when her computer went ding in the middle of the quiet library. Madison did not like anything that drew unnecessary attention to her, especially when she was busy writing in her files.
But someone had heard the ding. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red sweater. The person wearing the sweater strolled toward Madison like a secret-service agent, arms pressed tight against his sides, face pinched with concern. It was Hart, but Madison had never seen him looking so serious. Next to Hart, walking just as fast, was Egg. He looked serious, too.
They didn’t make a huge fuss but sat down in chairs on either side of Madison and began talking as if they had been sequestered in some kind of interrogation room. Madison felt as though she were in the hot seat—and not just because of the boys’ battery of questions. Madison was hot because her face felt flushed. Her skin prickled.
She stared again absentmindedly at her crush. As his lips moved she wondered (as she often wondered) whether or not Hart was the kind of guy who would like the flavor of Madison’s lip gloss.
“What are you doing up here?” Madison asked the boys.
“We’re looking for you,” Egg joked.
Madison rolled her eyes.
“Seriously, we were,” Hart said.
Madison neatly closed the laptop cover and crossed her arms. “What for?” she asked.
“Yo, I have to boogie,” Egg announced, like a circus ringmaster, gesturing to the right and left and finally slinging his bag over his back with a loud swoosh. “Hockey later, dude?” he asked Hart.
Hart nodded. “Later,” he said.
Madison was beginning to get the distinct impression that something was going on betw
een the two friends. Sometimes they didn’t use actual words, but seemed to communicate in shorthand. As Egg walked away, Madison turned to Hart. There was a glint in his eye, but he didn’t speak. He just stared.
“Um…Hart,” Madison said. “I’m sorry about the other day. About the tongue, I mean.”
Hart gave Madison a blank stare. “The tongue? Huh? What are you talking about?”
Madison’s throat muscles clenched.
“Um…nothing…I guess…” She wanted to run, but she pasted a smile on her lips instead. He obviously had forgotten all about that moment at the end of class.
“Hey,” Hart said, clearing his throat. “Are you working on the science homework or studying for those stupid standardized tests?”
“Neither,” Madison admitted with a sigh. “I was writing in my online journal. I keep these computer files…”
“Files?” Hart repeated. “What’s in the files?”
Madison thought about saying, “Duh! What do you think? All of my daydreams about you, dork!” But she didn’t say any of that.
“Well,” Madison continued aloud. “I keep track of all my feelings and ideas and…oh, you know. I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I mean, you can’t possibly care about my files or my feelings or anything…”
“Huh?” Hart said, taking a deep breath. Madison could see his Adam’s apple move in a jerky gulp. “Sure I care. I’m your friend.”
“Oh,” Madison replied. Friend?
There was a moment of silence. Both tongues were tied—tight.
Madison giggled nervously.
Then Hart giggled.
“Finnster, can I ask you something?”
Madison grabbed the table and pushed back in her seat so that she was balancing on the back two legs of the chair. “Sure,” she said, coolly kicking her legs out and pinching the table edge so she didn’t tip all the way back.
“Finnster, do you remember…when I asked you out to the movies with everyone?” Hart asked really fast.
Madison closed her eyes and then opened them again, as if she were blinking in slow motion.
“I remember,” Madison said expectantly.
Yes, this really was Hart Jones. Yes, she really was Madison Finn. Yes, he really had just said that.
“I totally remember,” Madison said.
“Well…do you want to do that again sometime, maybe…for real?”
“Yeah,” Madison said, still trying to act cool while her insides were doing loops on an imaginary roller coaster.
Hart exhaled. His shoulders dipped down.
“I was thinking…” He spoke very slowly. Madison could tell that he was nervous. He didn’t want to mess this up.
“I was thinking that we could go to the mall on Saturday,” Hart said.
“Wow,” Madison said.
“They have this car show, and I was thinking that you and me, I mean, you and I, could go to this car show…”
“Car show?” Madison made a funny face.
“Or not. Scratch that. We don’t have to go to the car show,” Hart cried. “That was just a dumb guy idea. Egg told me to say that.”
Madison pushed the chair upright again. There was no leaning back now. She was already off balance enough. She fiddled with the hem of her sweater.
Egg told me to say that.
So, Egg knew about what Hart was planning to do?
“Forget I said car show. That was wicked lame. Let’s go to the stores or something else that you want to do. Just hang. Play videos. Whatever. My dad said there’s this new take-out Italian restaurant in the Food Court called Napolis or something. He told me what I could order. We could go there, I guess, right?”
“I guess.”
“Ever eaten calamari? It’s squid.”
Madison chuckled. “Squid?” she said.
Hart nodded. “Gross, huh?”
They both burst into laughter. Madison clapped her hand over her mouth so that Mr. Books, the librarian, wouldn’t chase her out of the library with one of his “silence at all times” lectures.
Hart kept right on laughing. Even his eyes were grinning. Had Madison ever seen him look this happy? Had she ever been this happy? She wished that someone could take a photograph to prove that it really was happening.
Aimee, Fiona, and Lindsay wouldn’t believe it.
“What about a movie?” Madison asked.
“If you want to go to a movie, I’d have to ask my dad for permission. He said he’d come along as a chaperone, unless you wanted to ask your mom to drive us…and I heard that on Saturdays the mall is starting this new concert series.”
“Oh, no,” Madison said, her expression changing from a smile to a frown. “Saturday? This Saturday?”
“What’s wrong with Saturday?” Hart asked.
“I can’t go,” Madison said. She hung her head.
“Huh?”
“I can’t go,” Madison repeated. “I can’t go this Saturday.”
Hart’s face froze. Madison wasn’t sure what to say next.
“You really can’t go?” Hart asked.
“I can explain,” Madison said. But she didn’t know what else to say. “There’s this party…”
“Yeah, sure,” Hart said. “That’s cool. I understand.”
Although the library was perfectly quiet, Madison heard the imaginary sound of screeching brakes. She nervously grabbed at her neck. If it had been a teen movie, she would have leaped into his arms and nuzzled his neck.
But this was no movie.
“Um…what about…well…can we do it next weekend instead of this weekend?” Madison asked.
“No, I can’t,” Hart shrugged. “My dad is only free this weekend, which is why I asked you for that day. I have hockey games every weekend for the rest of the winter, pretty much.”
“Oh,” Madison said dumbly.
“So you can’t go? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not exactly…well, yes…” Madison could hardly speak.
“Gee, I guess I should go now,” Hart said. His shoulders had slumped again.
“Wait!” Madison cried. “Don’t be weird, Hart, please. I want to go out with you. But I just can’t do it then.”
“No, that’s cool. I understand. Totally,” Hart said.
“No, you don’t,” Madison said.
“I don’t?”
“What I mean is…”
“Forget about it. We can talk later,” Hart said.
“Later,” Madison repeated. “You can’t talk now?”
“Nah,” Hart mumbled. “I have a lot of really, really important stuff to do.”
“Oh,” Madison said. “You do?”
She watched him pick up his bag and turn solemnly toward the library door and then, taking giant steps, disappear into the hallway without once looking back at Madison.
Stunned, Madison sat back down in front of her laptop and idly hit SAVE again just to make sure that her previous file was still there.
It was.
But something else was missing.
A little piece of her heart had just left the library.
“Maddie, you have to stop crying,” Fiona said as she rubbed Madison’s back. “It’s a good thing that happened. Not a bad thing.”
Aimee and Lindsay sat close by. The four friends were hanging out on the wall outside school, waiting to catch a glimpse of Hart Jones. But it looked as though he—and all of his other friends—had most definitely left the building.
“I blew it,” Madison said, sniffling.
“You did not blow it,” Aimee reassured her friend. “He blew it.”
“What?” Madison wiped her cheeks but the tears kept coming. “It wasn’t his fault I couldn’t say the right thing.”
“Well, he didn’t have to walk away, either,” Aimee said.
Fiona groaned. “Aim, Hart didn’t walk. He ran. He was mortified. Madison rejected him.”
“I didn’t reject him!” Madison cried.
“You did,�
�� Aimee said.
“I did not!”
“That’s not how Hart sees it,” Lindsay said.
“Whose side are you guys on?” Madison asked.
“Why didn’t you just tell him the truth about Lindsay’s birthday party?” Fiona asked.
Madison shrugged. “I don’t know. I couldn’t speak. All the wrong things kept coming out of my mouth.”
“Yeah, well…Maybe you did blow it,” Aimee said.
“Aim!” Fiona gave Aimee a light punch in the shoulder. “You’re meaner than Poison Ivy!”
Madison cracked a small smile. “I appreciate your trying to help,” she said.
“Why don’t we just call him or E him and tell him the truth? He’ll understand,” Lindsay suggested. She always opted for a practical solution.
“I guess you’re right,” Madison said. “But what if he doesn’t understand or forgive me? What if that was my one and only chance to finally get Hart Jones to ask me on a date and I totally ruined it?”
“Maddie, the two of you are meant to be together,” Fiona said.
“Hart will ask you out again,” Lindsay said. “Eventually.”
“Yeah,” Madison agreed. “Eventually. To him that means another year of waiting and flirting and—aargh!—I’ll be a senior in high school before we ever go out for real. If I make it that far.”
Fiona, Aimee, and Lindsay threw their arms around Madison.
“You’ll always have us,” they all said practically at the same time, their voices muffled as they squeezed together.
Madison knew it was true, but for some reason a friend hug didn’t feel quite the same as a Hart hug. She couldn’t get Hart’s face out of her thoughts. She saw herself reflected in his happy, dancing eyes.
It had only been an hour. She missed him.
Her friends began talking among themselves about the standardized test. Aimee had an old textbook to share while they studied, and they flipped through the long chapters. But Madison couldn’t study. Not now.
Madison scanned the parking lot and the area in front of the school building, hoping that maybe Hart would pop out from behind a tree and rush over toward her. That was the way it would have worked on a sitcom. That was how she’d have written the happy ending to a play.
A cluster of clouds drifted by, taking on different shapes. Madison wanted to be swallowed whole by the sky. She wanted to take back the day.
