Friends till the End (9 page)

“Hey!” Dan said. “I e-mailed you, like, ten times this week, Maddie.”

“No,” Madison said. “It was once or twice, and I e-mailed you back.”

“You did not,” Dan said. “I didn’t get it.”

“Since when do you get anything—except the extra slice of pizza?” Aimee teased. Dan’s nickname back in elementary school had been Pork-O, because he’d had a reputation for eating everyone’s snacks and leftovers. Here it was the end of seventh grade, and he still couldn’t live it down.

“Go, Rangers!”
kids in the stands shouted as a whistle blew.

The game was starting.

Madison waved to Fiona as she stepped on the field in her blue-and-white uniform. Shin guards poked up through the tops of her socks, and her cleats looked new, even from a distance. She looked a little like her idol, Mia Hamm, with her ponytail. Madison had learned a lot about women’s soccer just from the posters that lined Fiona’s bedroom wall. And from games like this.

“Go, Fiona!”
Madison squealed, although she was pretty sure Fiona wouldn’t hear with all the noise. Still, it was luckier than lucky to cheer right out loud for a friend.

“This is my favorite thing at school,” Madhur gushed, clapping wildly.

“Soccer?” Madison asked.

“No,” Madhur said. “Being a part of something so much bigger than me. That’s how I feel about most things. You don’t get it at school when you’re taking some English test. But you do get it here, in the middle of everything.”

Madison had to nod, since she liked being in the middle of everything, too.

At the end of the row where the girls and Dan sat, Madison saw some guys approaching. Hart was not among them, but Drew, Egg, and Chet were.

As soon as Chet saw Madhur, he came closer and took a seat in the row directly ahead of her. Madison saw them flirt. She knew the signs only too well from observing Ivy’s moves and knowing how she herself acted in similar situations.

Back out on the field, the game wasn’t producing any goals—yet.

But all that was about to change.

Fiona and her teammate Daisy Espinoza set themselves up at midfield for a pass. Fiona had to kick the ball upfield to beat a defender, but when she got it back again, she was able to launch it with a high kick. It traveled all the way downfield toward the Mallard goalie. Everyone raced to beat it. The crowd went wild.

“I can’t believe what a good game this is,” Egg said.

“For girls’ soccer, you mean?” Dan said.

“Hey!” Madison elbowed Dan in the side. “Watch it. Why wouldn’t girls’ soccer be good?”

“I was being a doof,” Dan admitted, elbowing Madison right back. “But Egg is the one who always rags on Fiona and her teammates. Not me.”

“Sorry,” Madison said. She had taken her girl power a little too far.

Back on the turf, the opposing team’s goalie picked up the ball and threw it off to the side to a teammate. But as luck would have it, Super-Fiona was right there, her feet moving as fast as could be. She intercepted the ball and dribbled it quickly downfield.

Then something crazy happened: Fiona tripped.

Or, as Egg would later complain, “She was gypped! She was tripped!”

Everyone watched as Fiona fell to the ground and then got back up again, limping. Luckily, her ankle did not appear to be sprained; it was just that she had been momentarily stunned. Even better, the Mallards weren’t able to regain possession of the ball. Fiona soon had the ball again and this time dribbled it off to Daisy, who booted it right into the net. As the ball sailed high over the opposing goalie’s head, everyone rooting for the Far Hills Rangers let out a roar.

“That makes ten goals this season for Daisy,” Aimee said. She knew all the stats. Fiona had been explaining the facts and figures to her online just the other day.

“And eight assists this year for Fiona, too, right?” Madison added.

Aimee and Madison gave each other a high five. BFFs always knew the important details.

In the final minutes of the game, the Dunn Manor Mallards came back with an amazing goal, but it was too late to do any serious damage. Far Hills was already ahead by four goals at that point. The final score: 4-1, Far Hills Rangers.

“I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt,” Madison told Fiona when they all met up on a grassy mound near the main school building after the game. As usual, Fiona brushed off everyone’s concerns. She always did that when it came to injuries or anything that got in the way of her and soccer. Nothing could ever keep her from the game she loved so much.

Everyone threw their bags down on the grass and lay back, gazing up at the blue sky. Madison smiled to herself. At that moment, she felt much closer to knowing—
really knowing
—why that sky overhead was the color it was. And it didn’t have to do just with the spectrum and science projects. It had to do with the friends sitting nearby.

“You’re all going on the field trip, right?” Aimee asked aloud.

“No doubt,” Madison said.

“Ooops!” Fiona cried. “I forgot to get my permission slip signed. I think Chet forgot, too.”

“You still have a day,” Aimee said.

“Good,” Fiona said. “I think it’ll be a fun afternoon.”

“I heard they’re planning rowboat races this year,” Aimee said.

“Really?” Madison cried. She had a picture in her mind: her and Hart seated in the center of a red row-boat, Hart rowing, and Madison sunning herself. It was perfection, like something in a movie.

After a while everyone stood up and said their good-byes for the afternoon. As they walked off, Madison noticed how Chet and Madhur strolled side by side. They seemed to be spending more and more time together these days. Of course, Fiona and Egg walked side by side, too, as usual. All Madison could think about was Hart and how much she would have liked to be by his side.

Aimee must have sensed that Madison was getting a little melancholy, because she linked arms with her BFF and leaned close.

“I hope Fiona doesn’t move back to California,” Aimee said. “This year with the three of us has been the best.”

Madison looked over at her friend and sighed. Aimee was so right.

She felt a pang inside, knowing somehow that when things seemed very good…like right now…
that
was when everything began to shift. It was some kind of unwritten law of life.

“I hope she doesn’t move, either,” Madison said back to Aimee. “I don’t want things to change—not ever.”

And then Aimee and Madison hugged, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, right there in front of everyone.

Because that’s what best friends forever are supposed to do.

O
N TUESDAY EVENING, MADISON
lay stretched across her bed with her feet dangling off the edge. She rolled over and raised her legs straight up in the air. Mosquito bites lined her shins, and it wasn’t even really summer yet.

Plus, Madison really needed a pedicure. The carnation pink-colored polish from her previous one was wearing off. Maybe she and Aimee could paint each other’s toenails this week. They did that sometimes up in Aimee’s bedroom, or outside, in Aimee’s little rooftop hideaway. It was one of their favorite girl things to do. In addition to being the world’s best hair-braider, Aimee was a brilliant nail-polisher.

Phin sprawled nearby, little paws in the air, snoring (and drooling) on a pillow.

After a long day of classes, the Rangers-Mallards soccer game, and a Thai food takeout night with Mom, Madison wasn’t in the mood to do anything, especially anything that had to do with school. So she fluctuated between homework and no work. Instead of science chapters, Madison dived in to some back issues of
Star Beat
magazine. The purple science notebook that Ivy had claimed as her own lay open in front of Madison, its pages filled with notes from class and Internet research on the project.

But appearances were deceiving.

Many of the margins were crammed with non-science doodles.

Boy
doodles.

In lieu of writing science formulas, Madison was making up boy-girl formulas. It was like being matchmaker and matched all in one.

She scribbled down her own name and the names of boys she knew: boys like Hart (of course); Egg (just because he’d been around forever); Dan (because they had so much in common); and yes, even Will (now back on the scene). Then she counted the number of
A’s, E’s, I
’s,
O
’s, and
U’s
in each person’s name. Finally, she counted the vowels in her own name. If the totals for both names matched, she decided, she was a good match for that person.

HART & MADISON = One match …

WALTER & MADISON = One match …

DAN & MADISON = One match …

WILLIAM & MADISON = Two matches …

Madison glanced around the room upon her discovery of the fact that Will was the best match, at least in this version of matchmaking; it was as if someone were there, spying, peering over her shoulder…

That twinge in her stomach was back again.

She instantly thought of Will’s screen name. WillPOWR.

Boy, did she need some of that right now.

Willpower.

Madison didn’t need to like anyone else. She had all the “like” she needed with Hart. Right? Madison clicked her e-mailbox. It was time to reread Will’s e-mail and finally respond. Although it had been a whole day, Madison still didn’t know what to write. Or at least she didn’t know what to write that didn’t sound stupid, with a capital S.

Cluck, cluck, cluck.

She started making funny noises. She felt like such a chicken: afraid to write one e-mail; afraid that Hart might find out that Madison “sort of” liked someone else; and afraid that the end of seventh grade was turning into some kind of mini-melodrama.

“Maddie?”

Mom knocked and walked right in, as usual. No surprises there. Privacy was an unknown concept in that house, especially lately. Ever since Madison had started liking and seeing a boy, Mom had become exponentially nosier.

“You busy?” Mom asked.

Phin woke up with a start. He jumped off the bed and raced over toward Mom’s ankles, his tongue flapping.

“Hello, Phinnie,” Mom said, scooping up the pug.

“I’m trying to do homework,” Madison said tersely. “That’s why my door was shut.”

“I’m sure you were,” Mom said. “I just wanted to tell you that I spoke to my boss at Budge today.”

Madison perked up. “You did? What did he say?”

Mom came over with Phin and sat on the edge of the bed.

“He said I should book my tickets to Kyushu,” Mom said.

“Where’s that? I thought you were going to Japan,” Madison said.

“Honey bear, Kyushu is an island in southern Japan. The world’s largest double volcano is there.”

“Wow,” Madison said.
“Double
volcano? And I can really come with you to see it?”

“Yes,” Mom nodded, “either to Kyushu or maybe to Geibikei Gorge, in northern Japan. We’ll see. I have a lot of organizing and planning to do in a very short time.”

“Wow,” Madison said again. “Japan! Somebody, pinch me!”

Mom leaned over and pinched Madison ever so gently on the forearm. Then she kissed Madison’s forehead.

Before either one could push the dog back, Phin jumped between the two, drooling. Madison’s purple notebook and everything else on Madison’s bed flew onto the carpet.

It was a big mess, but Madison couldn’t help but giggle at the pile. Phin had tumbled right off the bed, too, landing right on top of everything else.

“Rowowooorroooo!”

“I like knowing we’ll have some quality time together this summer,” Mom said to Madison.

“Me, too,” Madison said. She glanced down at Phinnie, and he stared right back into her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Madison said to her doggy. Then she looked at Mom. “Look at Phin’s eyes, Mom,” she said. “He knows we’re planning something and that he can’t come.”

“Rowowooorroooo!”

Phin scratched at the carpet and made a 360-degree turn, as if he were chasing his little pug tail. Mom and Madison both laughed.

It really did seem as though Phinnie understood every single word they said.

“Good morning, students!” boomed Assistant Principal Goode’s voice.

Kids covered their ears as microphone static sizzled over the public-address system. “We have a few special announcements for today, Wednesday, June fourteenth,” Mrs. Goode continued. “As you know, school is winding down, but our school calendar is as jam-packed as ever. I hope everyone brought home all the flyers we distributed with information and dates for field trips, graduation, and—don’t forget—special performances…”

Madison glanced across the room at Hart. She was thinking again about how cool he’d been to give up performing in the musical revue just so he could join Madison backstage.

So-o-o-o-o cool.

Hart stared back. It looked as though he might have even winked, but Madison knew that that was just sunlight in his eyes. Still, he looked as cute as ever.

And he was cuter,
way
cuter than Will,
she kept telling herself.

Madison turned her head and gazed out of the windows along the side of the room. The afternoon sun made the whole sky look white. For a moment, Madison felt her eyes close as though she were being swallowed up by all the light.

It was warmer than warm in there.

Kids whispered as Mrs. Goode droned on and on, her voice loud and insistent. For some reason, none of the words seemed to make any sense to Madison. The conversation was unintelligible, like white noise. Madison felt as if she were sinking into quicksand. She wasn’t in the classroom anymore; she was somewhere outside that scene, somewhere familiar, but somewhere
else.

She was dreaming.

Madison saw herself dressed up in a short skirt (she’d never had one), tank top (she’d never worn one), and lace-up sandals (surprisingly like the ones Poison Ivy wore). But despite the strangeness of the image, Madison didn’t question the outfit or the thoughts. She just walked down the hall at school, and everyone—
everyone
—stopped to talk or wave or just stare. It was as if Madison had been wearing a neon sign that read,
MOST POPULAR
. Her hair was pulled back in a braided bun, secured with a rhine-stone hair clip and barrettes. She wore a long beaded necklace and carried a bohemian bag made from vintage fabric. When other students stopped to greet her, they complimented her on her bag or her shoes or some other aspect of her outfit.