Friends till the End (19 page)

Everything about the walk back down the hall and into the auditorium made Madison’s head spin. Hart stayed closer than close to her side the whole time, which made her feel secure for some reason. Seeing Hart today confirmed that she’d made the right choice between him and Will.

Aimee let out a low holler and waved madly across the room. She saw her mom, her dad, and two of her four brothers coming inside, and she wanted them to know where she was sitting. Lindsay, Madhur, and Fiona saw their families and flagged them down.

Madison didn’t have any such luck. She knew Mom and Gramma Helen and Dad and Stephanie
had
to be out there somewhere, but she didn’t hear Mom’s familiar “Honey bear?” or Dad’s bellowed “My Maddie!” It would have been so like Dad to do something embarrassing (like scream Madison’s name and get everyone in the room to stop and stare). He was good for lousy jokes and behavior like that sometimes. Still, he wasn’t there yet; that much was clear.

Down in the orchestra pit, the Far Hills String Ensemble joined in with members of the school band to play the Allegro from Handel’s
Concerti Grossi.
Some notes sounded a little sharp, like nails on a chalkboard, but overall, the music was good. Madison wondered why she’d slacked off so much that year on her flute-playing. She could have been a band member, too. Maybe next year?

Quicker than Madison ever expected, Principal Bernard started the moving-up ceremony by having everyone in the crowd sing the school song. Of course, he was louder than most folks, since he sang into a microphone, and unfortunately, his pitch was way off. Madison and a bunch of other kids sank down into the auditorium seats and tried to tune out rather than sing along. They’d only sung it maybe twice during the entire year. So some of the words were missing. She’d have to learn the entire thing the following year, in eighth grade.

After the last chorus, Assistant Principal Goode scurried up to the microphone with a long sheet of paper in her hand.

“Good morning,” she announced in a chipper tone. “We have some special speakers to start our program. After that, we will move to the awards and recognition part of the ceremony. Our teachers will present deserving students with certificates and awards for their academic and extracurricular endeavors.”

Madison shot a look at Fiona. They’d only recently been gabbing about how much Fiona deserved the team award for soccer. Madison hoped that her friend would get it—and everything else she deserved.

The first special speaker up to the podium was none other than Ben Buckley. Aimee leaned back in a swoon, as usual, upon seeing him come onstage. Lindsay and Madhur made a jokey comment about Ben’s starched shirt, baggy pants, and haircut (or lack thereof). But Aimee didn’t seem to mind his appearance. She hung on Ben’s every word.

“Good morning.” Ben started his speech in a low, rumbly voice. “When the teachers asked me to…er…talk to everyone today, I didn’t know how to start. I’m not even sure if you all know me…”

A brief titter passed through the audience. Madison turned around and saw that it was a group of eighth graders—the cool clique, no doubt—making the ruckus. But they didn’t do it for long.

Ben cleared his throat but continued, undeterred.

“Anyway, my favorite teacher, Mr. Gibbons, says that everywhere in life we face challenges, even in seventh grade. And they are important, no matter what anyone says. They are important because they matter to us. Principal Bernard says on the loudspeaker every Friday that we have to find the steady path and stay focused in school. We have to figure things out. I was thinking about this poem by Robert Frost. He says,
‘I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference…’”

Ben paused, and some kid called out, “What road was that? Ridge or Poplar?”

The room erupted in a roar of laughter. Even a few parents chuckled, but order was restored quickly.

“Why did someone make fun of him in the middle of his speech?” Aimee whispered, indignant. “It’s because Ben sounds a little intense, right? I mean, for a seventh grader.”

“Yeah! It’s not like he’s the president giving a State of the Union speech or something,” Madhur said.

“Oh,” Aimee sighed. “Poor Ben.”

“No!” Madison said, defending him. “Ben sounds really, really smart. Don’t let those pranksters mess with your head. He sounds good. Look. Principal Bernard is all ears.”

Aimee smiled. Madison hoped that despite Ben’s total geekiness, Aimee knew that no one thought she was crazy for liking him. Aimee’s “like” for Ben was even
more
admirable than anything she might have felt for some slick soccer dude.

Moments later, Ben finished his speech, but not before tossing in a few more important lines—that quoted everyone from Adam Levine to former president Bill Clinton. At the end, the auditorium burst into loud applause. Thankfully, the few bad apples who had mocked Ben early in the speech didn’t make a fuss now.

Principal Bernard gave another of his short little speeches, and then a dazzling Mrs. Wing approached the podium. She wore one of her favorite scarves that had little sequins and mirrors sewn into it, so when she stepped under the spotlight, she literally shone. First, Mrs. Wing showed a short, candid slide show of kids from all over the school, and then she reminded everyone in the room about their memory pages. Madison was bummed when the teacher didn’t mention her “team,” but time was tight, so she didn’t. And no sooner had Mrs. Wing rushed away than the next speaker took the stage.

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 was 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.