Back Online (5 page)

Madison laughed. “That's because he's the smartest dude in the eighth grade—and he still likes you. Did you see Dan in class?”

“Dan?” Aimee asked. “You mean Ben, right?”

“Ben! Yes, of course. I don't know why I said Dan. Duh.”

“No, I saw him in the hallway. Remember, our lockers are near each other?”

Aimee stood up and pretended to do some fancy dance move. Madison hated it when Aimee did this—especially up high on the roof.

“You're making me nervous,” Madison said.

Aimee flopped back down and tickled Madison, who screeched with laughter. The street below had been fairly silent, but now all their goofing around echoed loudly in the air.

“MADISON? ARE YOU UP THERE?”

The girls jumped and grabbed each other.

“HELLO? I CAN HEAR YOU!”

“Hello?” Madison called out. Was that
Mom?

“COME DOWN, MADDIE! WE NEED TO GO NOW! I TOLD YOU TO COME STRAIGHT HOME TODAY!”

“Your mom is so funny.” Aimee commented then shouted over the edge, “We'll be right down, Mrs. Finn! Sorry, it's my fault Maddie's late!”

“FYI, she isn't Mrs. Finn anymore,” Madison quietly reminded Aimee on the way downstairs. “I think she's going to change her name back. She's been acting weird lately about Dad and life and—”

“According to you, your mom's always acting weird,” Aimee said. “Isn't that just how moms are? Weird? Most moms would have rung the doorbell or at least called first, but your mom yelled out from the street.”

“So embarrassing, right?” Madison added.

“By the way, you didn't tell me anything about what's going on with your dad,” Aimee said. “You mentioned something about him and Stephanie. What's up?”

Madison shrugged. “We can talk another time.”

This was typical Aimee: Talk about herself until it was time to go and
then
ask all the other important BFF questions.

Madison grabbed her book bag, and they headed downstairs. “You okay staying home by yourself?” Madison asked.

“Hey, she's not by herself,” a voice grumbled from the kitchen door. It was Aimee's oldest brother, Roger, eating a bowl of yogurt and granola, talking with his mouth full. “Mmmmhiya Mmmmaddie.”

“Hey, Roger,” Madison said. “Did my mom call first?”

“Mmmmmnope.”

Aimee leaned in for a squeeze. “E-me later, 'kay?”

Maddie walked onto the porch, where Mom was waiting. Mom barely acknowledged Madison or Aimee as she paced on the steps, talking on her cell phone.

They started walking away just as Aimee called out, “
Good-bye, friend!
” Aimee's voice rang out through the air. Madison turned to see her standing on the porch, waving.

At least s
omeone
was paying attention to Maddie.

Madison slowly walked toward home with her head down, kicking at leaves. They were scattered here and there, maples, elms, and oaks. Even with the warmer temps, some trees had begun to shed their bounty into piles on the sidewalks. The leaves weren't all bright autumn reds or oranges—not yet—but the air smelled so much like fall—the best fragrance in the world.

As they turned onto their walkway, Mom
finally
got off her phone and scooted up to Maddie.

“So sorry about that.”

“Yeah, Mom, whatever,” Madison said, maybe a little too curtly. Mom winced. Then she unlocked the front door and let Madison step inside first. She stopped right inside the door, listening, expecting to hear the clickity-clack of her best friend running across the wood floors to greet her.

But there was no sound.

“Mom, where's Phin?”

“Phin?” Mom gasped. “Oh, Phin! I knew there was something …”

“Something? What happened? Is he okay?!”

“I completely forgot!”

“You
forgot
?” Madison said. “You forgot to pick up Phinnie? Really, Mom?”

Madison was tongue-tied. She imagined poor Phin at the clinic, left behind.

Mom felt terrible—that much was clear. She collapsed onto the bench in their front hallway. When Madison sat down, Mom took Madison's hand into her own and looked at her pleadingly.

“I can't believe I forgot to get him discharged, Maddie. There's been a lot going on with work. I just—”

“Forgot? But what could possibly be more important than Phin?”

“Nothing, Maddie,” Mom said. “And there's something else we need to discuss, too.”

Madison sighed. She knew what was coming next. She'd heard this one before. Mom's voice got low and soft, like she was apologizing.

“I have to leave for work again, Maddie. We fly out first thing tomorrow.”

Madison blinked. She tried not to roll her eyes as Mom went on.

“It's just for a few days in Barcelona for a new documentary,” Mom said, the words flying out all at once. “There's this old Spanish artist, and he's a recluse, but he just agreed—finally—to let us film him. The crew is available starting tomorrow, so we have to do this right now.”

“Am I—Am I staying with Dad then?” Madison stammered. “How long?”

“Just two nights. You have a new room there and everything.”

“But what about Phin?” Madison asked.

“Well, I guess it's better now if he stays at the animal—”

“No!” Madison yelled. “NO! It's not fair that you keep doing this! Arrrgh!”

Madison's felt her face flush as she struggled to keep from crying. She couldn't cry again. Not for another Mom business trip. Not for anything. But there were the tears, welling up fast.

Madison dropped her book bag and ran to her bedroom.

Chapter Four

MadFinn: where ru

AimGill: @dance WH?

MadFinn: call me l8r @dads

 

Texting was fun! And it was a snap on Stephanie's phone.

Madison just
had
to get her own cell. Luckily, her generous stepmother always let Madison borrow hers. She even suggested that maybe Madison would inherit it when Stephanie got her next upgrade. Of course, using a parent's phone meant not texting things that were NFPE (not for parent eyes), because parents read everything.

Dad would eventually
have
to agree to the phone thing. After all, there was a whole list of reasons why it was so important:

 

1. Madison was often on the go. A cell phone was the ideal way to talk in between things and let Dad know where she was. A daughter locator! He'd like to call it that.

2. Madison was practically a teenager now. Every teenager had one.

3. The homework! She could do homework on her smartphone. (Okay, this was a stretch, but still …)

 

For the time being, private communication for Madison would be confined to the computer. At least Dad's computer was high-tech, with cool gadgets and apps. Typing new documents at Dad's apartment was way cooler than on her laptop—Madison was even tempted to “write” a file using his voice-recognition software! But today she just went ahead and typed with her own two hands.

MAYBE


Maybe feelings are meant to change all the time? I was feeling a little grumpy toward Dad, but now I think his place is nice. Stephanie painted every room a different color, and my room is this golden yellow, like a sunrise or maybe a daffodil. Either way, it's Perfect with a capital P, especially today, when it's rainy and gray outside. Plus, Dad framed all my favorite posters of pugs, which is sort of second grade, but I don't mind. He always tries!!!!


That's more than I can say about MOM right now.


Rude Awakening:
If I'm as good as gold (to Dad) then why doesn't Mom think I'm worth spending time with?


I get it that Mom's busy, that work matters so much, that she has to travel. But STILL. She forgot Phin. She forgets half the things I do at school.


And now she's gone on another trip??


Maybe I'm just bummed out more because of the rain today. Or because I miss Phin so much. Today after school I am totally going to GET HIM! Dad said it's fine to have Phin in the apartment. Yea! And there's a nice snuggly bed for him to sleep in that Steph got from this Doggy Delights catalog. Amaze-o! Once I see Phin, maybe I won't feel as mad at Mom?


Maybe I'll even make Mom a card or something for when she gets back. …


The first night at Dad's went well. Madison's spontaneous visit (thanks to Mom's business trip) coincided with a big deadline for Dad, so he spent most of Tuesday in his study. Phin was back at the clinic, doing fine. Stephanie was just getting over a cold.

On Wednesday morning, Stephanie called Madison to breakfast with bacon signals—well, the scent of bacon, pancakes, and maple syrup all mixed together. Madison could smell food she loved from miles away.

“What's going on at school today?” Stephanie asked as she slurped coffee from the oversized mug that said
STEPMOMS RULE
. Madison had given her that for Mother's Day last year.

Madison inhaled a strip of bacon and smiled. “Well, I have a test that I should ace. And I think I have art today. That makes the day a lot better.”

Art in eighth grade was studio art, which meant easels and aprons and
real
watercolor and oil paints. They were working on a gourd still life—in honor of autumn, of course. Madison had discovered that she was pretty good at painting. It came as a surprise because she spent so much more time focused on words and computers. She loved the way painting made her feel. She loved the colors.

“Well, I will be there at three on the dot to grab you. We can head over to the clinic and get Phin, okay?” Stephanie said.

Madison nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh. Thanks for letting him come.”

“You saw the bed! I love Phinnie. I was thinking maybe we'd even get a pet of our own. Maybe one of those little fluffy dogs, like a miniature poodle or something. Phin would have a brother or sister. And we'd have another distraction around the house. It would be so much fun,” Stephanie said.

Madison's heart raced. Another dog? Could there be anything better than that?

She took a big bite of pancake.

Dad had left early for the office. Mom's flight had taken off hours ago for Spain. Madison mused on how funny it felt to be right here, with a person she'd doubted for so long. Her stepmother was now one of the people Madison could depend upon the most. Life dealt funny cards sometimes, didn't it?

After breakfast, Madison hopped into Stephanie's car so they could drive to school. “See you at three!” Madison called out as she got out of the car and bounded across the pavement toward school. Kids rushed in from all directions. The sky was spitting now, not raining hard but still wetting everyone's heads and book bags enough to be a nuisance.

As she dashed up the walkway to the school's entrance, leaves danced in circles propelled by the rainy wind. It was a little cooler than Madison expected. She moved quickly up the steps and then crashed right into a cluster of students who were moving slowly.

Inside the doors, chaos reigned. Madison slipped through the mess and found a girls' bathroom so she could fix her hair before homeroom.

The bathroom had a short line, so Madison had to wait a minute before she was inside, fussing at the sink.

Ivy exited one of the stalls behind her and came up next to Madison.

“Hey Ivy,” Madison said quietly.

“Hey yourself,” Ivy said, washing her hands. She had on a cool layered tank and T-shirt combo, black corduroy leggings, and a pair of Granny boots.

“Nice outfit,” Madison said.

“You too,” Ivy said even though Madison was just wearing old, worn-out jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with polka-dots all over it.

Last year, Poison Ivy would never have complimented Madison's clothes, let alone Madison's
old
clothes. Madison had found them stuffed on a shelf at Dad's apartment, so she just grabbed whatever was there whether it matched or not. Last night, Madison had left in such a hurry that she decided she would go back the next day to pack her suitcase. Stephanie devised a plan for today: nab Phin, stop at the house to grab Madison's clothes and Phin's toys, and then head to the loft for the slumber party.

“I remember that shirt,” Ivy said. “I had one just like it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Madison mumbled. “I remember, too.”

“You have a crazy sunburn, right?” Ivy said.

Madison glanced in the mirror. “Mom said I look like a lobster, but I think it's turning pink. At least I hope so.”

Ivy shrugged. “In like five minutes, you'll have a great tan. I'm jealous.”

“You're jealous of my sunburn?” Madison said with a smile.

“No.” Ivy laughed. “I mean, I totally would want to look like a lobster like you.”

“So nice.”

“I pride myself on being nice, no matter what.”

Madison burst out laughing.

“Maddie, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry
. About yesterday. I was in a bad mood at lunch. And some kids are just so snotty,” Ivy explained.

Madison shrugged. “Whatever.” What Madison was thinking:
How does it feel when someone does it to you, Ivy?

“Seriously, I know you don't believe me, but I don't mean to be obnoxious. Sometimes it just happens.”

Madison raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

Ivy smiled. “Really.”

Madison could feel some major change in the air between them at that moment. She wanted to say so out loud. She felt like she was talking to Ivy as if she were
a real friend
. If they'd been heading to the same class, they probably would have kept talking and talking.

Madison had to rush because she'd taken too long in the bathroom with Ivy. She raced off to social studies in room 310 before the late bell rang.

Once she settled into her desk, Madison caught her breath and checked the SMART board. Her teacher, Ms. Cottet, had put up a list of essential questions that she wanted the class to consider.

Madison scribbled them down into her notebook.

What events caused the American Revolution?

What were the differing views of the Patriots and Loyalists?

How did these views divide the nation?

Ms. Cottet cruised around the room, chatting with students as they wrote. Then she took her place in front of the class for the lesson.

“Okay, everyone!” Ms. Cottet banged on the desk. “Let's look over the chapter and the vocabulary for this unit. There are terms I want you to work on. I have a cool new project that will use your writing and art skills and get us talking about this period from history in a new way.”

Madison's ears perked up. She'd only just been thinking about loving art.

Ms. Cottet explained that the project was about propaganda. She quickly wrote a definition from
Merriam-Webster
on the board as a reminder. A history teacher like Ms. Cottet
always
cited her sources.

Propaganda

noun
pro·pa·gan·da \,prä-pə-'gan-də, ,prō-\

ideas or statements that are often false or exaggerated and that are spread in order to help a cause, a political leader, a government, etc.

“So what does this mean?” she asked the class, leaning back on her desk. “Why was using propaganda an important tactic during the American Revolution?”

A bunch of hands flew up.

“It convinced people to take up their arms.”

“It made the British look bad.”

“It promised freedom. Freedom is awesome!”

Everyone fake-cheered. Ms. Cottet grinned.

“Wait!” Fiona threw up her arms to answer. “I don't get it. Weren't all the people who came over here patriots?”

“No!” Ms. Cottet said. “Ahhh, excellent point! There were many loyalists who wanted to colonize our land but still be ruled by the English. So that leads us back to the question: Why is propaganda important? What do we say, and how do we say it?”

Madison furiously took notes. She wanted to ace this project. Her goal for eighth grade was 95 percent and above on
everything
.

“Let's take a look at some examples of propaganda from the time and talk about how it worked—or
if
it worked. Then we're going to create our own examples of advertisements that serve as propaganda. You should choose one: either the loyalist or patriot side.”

She dimmed the lights to show the class a nifty PowerPoint presentation that flashed examples of
actual
advertising from colonial times, cartoons from Ben Franklin's
Pennsylvania Gazette
, and other primary sources.

As she was writing, Madison thought about the power of a revolution. She stared up at the board and looked right through it in a foggy daydream.

Right now, she was in the middle of a revolution with Mom, wasn't she? She thought about Mom leaving on a jet plane and Phinnie nearly losing his little life the other night. Things had gotten so complicated again.

In Madison's world, Mom was the loyalist! Dad was the patriot! So which one was Madison siding with?

Did she secretly want to overthrow the governing body—aka Mom—and form her own, like maybe in Dad's apartment? Had the Big D continued to unleash its share of uncomfortable and awkward life situations? Why was Madison smack-dab in the middle?

“Ahhhhhh!” Madison wailed.

Ms. Cottet turned toward Madison. She raised a suspicious eyebrow and slithered over.