Friends till the End (16 page)

“Madison, dear,” Gramma Helen said. “Your mother thinks we should keep looking for a dress for a while longer…”

“I can’t think about a dress!” Madison cried.

Where had he gone? There! At the corner. Why didn’t he turn around?

“Maddie, what are you looking at?” Mom asked, glancing across the street at the same spot as Madison.

At that precise moment, the blond boy turned around to face them.

“Oh, no!” Madison let out a sad gasp.

“What is it?” Gramma Helen asked. Now the three of them stood on the curb, staring across the busy street at the hot-dog vendor.

Madison hung her head sadly as the boys walked away.

“What was
that
all about?” Mom asked.

“Nothing,” Madison said. “Thought I saw someone I knew. That’s pretty dumb, right?”

“Oh,” Gramma said. “I always do that. Just the other day I thought I saw Grampa Joe in a crowd.”

“You
did?”
Madison asked. Her grandfather had been dead for many years.

“Ah, yes,” Gramma went on. “I think that’s because I feel close to him. I feel like he’s still right next to me, no matter what truly separates us. I see Joe in a lot of places.”

“Really?” Madison asked.

“We should shake our tails, girls,” Mom said, interrupting. “Let’s finish this conversation at lunch.”

Madison and Gramma each took the other’s arm and walked closely together. Mom linked arms on Madison’s opposite side. The three of them walked down the sidewalk as if they were attached at the hips. The family resemblance was obvious: hair, eyes, and high cheekbones. It would have been a picture-perfect photo, if anyone had had a camera.

As they walked on, Madison turned back once to see if she could catch a glimpse of the blond boy, or any other boy that looked like Will. It was impossible to let go of the hope that she might see him.

On the fringes of Chinatown, Mom led Madison and Gramma Helen into another small boutique. By now, Madison’s feet—and spirits—were tiring out. She was convinced that her ultimate dress was nowhere to be found—at least not in this neighborhood. But then, there it was! Madison smiled when she saw the purple sundress hanging by the front door: linen with lace and embroidered flowers around the hem. Little pearl buttons went up the back, and there was a grosgrain ribbon waist. Best of all, it fit Madison perfectly.

“I never would have picked out a purple dress,” Madison said as she stared back at her reflection in the store mirror. “But I love, love,
love
this.”

“Me, too,” said Gramma.

“Yeah, it’s just grape…I mean,
great,”
Mom joked.

“That’s almost as lame as the jokes Dad tells,” Madison said.

Mom held up the dress. “We’ll take it!” she told the store clerk, a young girl with blue streaks in her hair who reminded Madison of Mariah.

What with the fun visit to Mom’s office, the taxi rides, and the purple dress, the trip into New York was classifiable as nothing short of a success. Despite the false Will-sighting, Madison was happier than happy about the way the day turned out. Later that night, after a long, rush-hour train ride home, she wrote about all of their exploits in her files. Luckily for Madison, Gramma Helen was sleeping in the den on this trip, not in Madison’s bedroom, where she normally camped out on her visits. That meant Madison could stretch across her bed and go online.

After being away in the city for an entire day, Madison half-expected to find a huge windfall of e-communication waiting for her. How weird not to have spoken with any of her BFFs or other classmates that day! Surprisingly, however, no one had sent any mail, not even Bigwheels or Aimee, not even Ivy, writing to touch base about tomorrow’s science presentation. There wasn’t even any spam. And there were no text messages on her cell phone, either.

Trying hard not to feel super discouraged, Madison sent out a text of her own. Just as she was composing it, her phone beeped.

A message! At last!

Madison opened it.

Is ur e-mail down? missed u @ school SO how’s ur science thing? Chet & I r working 2nite text me asap H


Madison grinned at the letter H
.

Hart was thinking of her? He
missed
her?

Somehow, that short little message gave Madison a very big boost. She typed a quick hello back so Hart knew she was thinking about him and then sat down on her bed with a bunch of Mom’s old magazines, a pair of scissors, and some glue. It was time she began work on her Blue Sky collage.

There were only a few days of school left, but Madison Francesca Finn was newly determined to make the most of them.

W
EDNESDAY WAS P-DAY.

Somehow the night before, even after the long day in the city, Madison had found the time to rip out some pictures of blue, cloudless skies from mom’s old magazines and make a collage from the scraps, pasting words like
spectrum
and
refraction
and
scattered light
in different areas. In one corner was a rainbow; in another was a bright sun with rays. Mr. Danehy would be impressed. At least, Madison hoped so.

Overnight, she’d developed a game plan, which wasn’t exactly revenge, but close. Madison had figured that she would try to present as much information as possible and then leave Ivy to answer the questions from Mr. Danehy. From experience, Madison knew that that was how he liked to work things. He liked any chance to quiz students on what they’d learned. Ivy would fall flat on her face during that part, for sure! She would be the one looking dumb, not Madison.

When science class came, Madison put her plan into action. Poster in hand, she explained how light was scattered by oxygen when it hit the atmosphere, and how blue light was absorbed the most readily.

“It’s not that the sky is painted or colored blue, exactly,” Madison explained, pointing to parts of her diagram. “It’s just that that’s how our eyes see it. We see the blue light more than other colors.”

“Very good, Ms. Finn,” Mr. Danehy said.

Ivy kept trying to get a word in edgewise, but Madison talked right over her. When it came time to do one of the simple experiments, Madison stepped right in and worked with all of the items herself. She explained the theory of thin-film interference.

“This shows how a coating of nail polish in water takes white light that shines on it and turns it into different colors, like a rainbow. It’s a lot like the white light that is absorbed in the sky. Depending on how the light is absorbed in the air, we see different shades of blue or whatever color. Depending on how thick or thin the nail polish is, we see different shades of color, too…”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Ivy chimed in, beginning to look worried.

“Wow,” Mr. Danehy said. “That was a good experiment for this scientific proof. I am impressed with the both of you—How hard you’ve worked!”

The both of us?

Ivy’s momentary look of worry turned back into one of gloating. She was again getting all the credit for work she had not done.

To make matters worse, Mr. Danehy skipped over the Q & A portion. He said that all of his questions had already been answered. Madison was half tempted to expose Ivy right there, once and for all, but for some reason, she held back. When Mr. Danehy asked for the pair’s detailed journal of observations and notes, Madison passed him the purple notebook with a polite smile and said, “Here’s our journal. Can I get that back after you’ve reviewed it?”

Mr. Danehy nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Finn,” he said, by his gestures encouraging the other students in class to applaud the presentation. Then Ivy had the steely nerve to take a bow in the middle of everything.

Out of the corner of her eye, Madison saw Hart looking her way, which was a very good thing. That alone kept her from bursting into tears on the spot. After all, Hart knew the truth.

At least someone in the room did.

After the day’s classes, Madison headed to the second and final rehearsal with everyone from the musical revue. She had missed the rehearsal the day before, because she’d gone to New York City. As she walked into the auditorium, she felt weird and goose-pimply all over, like a stranger to the place, not one bit the way she had felt when she had been stage manager of the seventh-grade play. For that, she had a very important role, even if it was behind the scenes. This time, she was just a minor player in a huge production.

She probably wouldn’t have felt quite so weird if the one and only revue performance hadn’t been scheduled for that very night. But it was. And the performers and backstage helpers and others were buzzing like a beehive.

The longer she stood there, the more Madison’s nerves felt as if they were about to
snap.
Where was she supposed to stand? She liked to be in charge, or at least to be in the know, but right now she had no idea where anything belonged. Who was singing or dancing? Where were all the decorative props? Did it even matter that she was there?

Madison looked to Hart for guidance, but he was off in the wings with some other boys, moving sets and signs.

Fiona had said she wasn’t coming to rehearsal until late, so Aimee, Lindsay, and Madhur tried their best to calm Madison down and clue her in on what had happened at the rehearsal the day before, but that only frustrated Madison more. It seemed as if she had set herself up these last weeks of school to do all these fun things, and now she was lagging behind everyone else at the revue. And it wasn’t just the revue. She was behind in Science, too, now that Ivy had turned into the über-genius, despite doing absolutely
no
work.

Gack.

There was so little time left before Moving Up Day—before seventh grade came to its screeching halt. Could she ever catch up? Madison looked around at the other kids. Did they really know what was going on, or were they just faking it—the way Ivy usually did?

“Hey, Finnster,” Hart said, appearing by her side.

It was the right guy at the right time. Without even thinking, Madison wrapped her arm around Hart’s waist. She’d been flip-flopping all week long, but now she just wanted to hold on tight.

“Hey,” Madison said.

“So, you got my messages?” Hart asked. “I was kinda worried. And when I saw you in science class today, you seemed a million miles away.”

“It’s just Ivy. She’s the worst partner
ever.”

“She’s a bonehead. Everyone knows it.”

“Everyone?”

Hart nodded. “No doubt.”

“I’m sorry if I seemed preoccupied lately,” Madison said. “I didn’t mean to be.”

“Okay, I forgive you,” Hart said with a smile. His teeth looked really white and clean for some reason, like those of a guy on the cover of a magazine. His glasses had slipped down a little on his nose. Madison took her fingertip and pushed them up gently.

“You’re back on props?” Madison asked.

Hart nodded. “Yeah.”

“So maybe you can fill me in. Because I am totally
clueless,”
Madison said with a laugh and an exaggerated toss of her head.

“Here’s the master list. Mr. Montefiore passed it out yesterday,” Hart said. “I got you an extra copy.”

“You did?” Madison asked, surprised.

“I wanted to give it to you earlier, but then I didn’t see you at lunch.”

“Thanks,” Madison said, taking the sheet.

Mrs. Montefiore hit a few sharp notes on the piano keys, and the final run-through officially began.

“Remember, boys and girls,” Mrs. Montefiore said, “we’re not going to do entire numbers. We just want you to take places, run through any major stage motions, and then we’ll move right along to scene and number transitions. Got it?”

“Got it!” about three dozen kids yelled back. Then everyone participating from the seventh, eighth, and ninth grades ran to take their places, some backstage, some onstage, and some in the orchestra pit, or at least the section of floor next to the stage that served as a temporary pit. Madison followed the crowd like she was one of the sheep. On a master list of performance numbers, Madison saw the names of songs, skits, and dances (many of which featured Aimee or Aimee’s choreography). Madison scanned the list. How could they ever perform thirty numbers in only two hours?

Mrs. Montefiore played the piano a little louder.

“Now, we’re opening the revue with ‘There’s No Business like Show Business,’ right? So…why am I staring at an empty stage? Get up there, performers!” she shouted. “We only have a little time before the real thing! Let’s go!”

A cluster of kids in shoes with taps clicked and clacked their way onto the stage. Most of them wore top hats, except for two kids at the end of a line.

“Hats!” Mrs. Montefiore shouted. She looked around for a prop person. Mariah was standing nearby. “Ah! Mariah! Where are those hats?”

Madison saw the look of momentary panic on Mariah’s face. But instead of freaking out, she calmly nodded, as if to say, “Got it!” and raced offstage. A moment later, she was back again with the two missing black hats, each one decorated at the brim with silver sparkles.

Aimee and a couple of the other choreographers joined the line midway through the song. They were dressed in silver lamé shirts and black tights, with sneakers that had been spray-painted silver. Aimee strutted around the stage. Madison hadn’t seen her dance,
really
dance, in a long time. Aimee had gotten so good this year. Her blond hair was piled loosely on her head and secured with silver barrettes, and she had on gobs of makeup, too, which made her look like some kind of real Broadway star.

After the opening number, a breathless crew of kids shuffled off the stage to loud applause. Mrs. Montefiore cheered the loudest of all, which put everyone in a better mood.

The next few songs required Madison’s help—and she was eager to get to work and be a part of the action. Following the instructions on the list that Hart had given to her, Madison toted props to their designated places on the stage: three red telephones; a graffiti-covered guitar; fake flowers in fake pots; and a pile of papers. Hart and some other kids helped out with one of the bigger items, a bunch of oversize cutouts of skyscrapers needed for the United States tribute portion of the revue. In the half-darkness, the props team moved a fake field of oats and grass offstage and shuttled the city backdrop onto the stage, making the transition from the show tune “Oklahoma” to “New York, New York!” complete.