Forget Me Not (From the Files of Madison Finn, 21) (15 page)

“Mom, are you crying?” Madison asked.

“No,” Mom said, shaking off her emotion. “No. I know that would embarrass you.”

“It’s not a big deal if you cry,” Madison said. “But it’s really no big thing. I mean, people say things all the time….”

Madison stared at her sneakers rather than looking over at Mom again.

“Late last night when I told you I had so much work to finish up,” Mom said, “I was sitting down here, time-coding some new pieces. I found this clip when I was on one of the B-reels.”

“Yeah,” Madison said, eyes still on the floor.

“Well, Maddie, I thought you told me that you hadn’t done an interview.”

“I didn’t do one. Not at first,” Madison said. “But then at the very last minute Aimee and Fiona and Lindsay talked me into it.”

“They did? How?”

“They said I should do it for you,” Madison said.

Mom laughed. She was visibly choked up. “Oh, Maddie,” Mom said. She stood up and grabbed Madison by the shoulders. “You are really something.”

“Something what?” Madison asked. “That doesn’t necessarily mean something good, does it?”

Mom laughed again, apparently so she wouldn’t cry. “Of course it means something good,” Mom said.

“Whew,” Madison said with a little smile. “I was worried.”

“Honey bear,” Mom asked. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were feeling? Have you always disliked my work?”

“I don’t dislike your work,” Madison said. “I think your job is one of the coolest on the planet. Really …”

“You told me this before, didn’t you?” Mom finally asked. “Earlier this week. You said you needed to talk and I was too—” Mom caught her breath. “I was too busy working on this, wasn’t I?” Mom asked.

“I guess so,” Madison said.

Mom slumped back into one of her office chairs.

“I feel so stupid,” Mom said. “I’ve been so caught up in the project that I missed all the important things, like time with you. What’s wrong with me?”

Madison shrugged. “It’s okay, Mom.”

Mom sighed. “I feel like I am always playing catch-up.”

“You’ll get caught up someday, won’t you?” Madison asked.

Mom stood up and took Madison by the arm, lifting Madison out of her own seat.

“Come with me,” Mom said.

“Again?” Madison asked. “What now?”

Mom stopped in the middle of the room. She opened her arms wide and then wrapped them around Madison’s middle.

“Maddie,” Mom whispered into Madison’s left ear. “I will never forget this week, Madison. I will never forget the film shoot at your school.”

Madison closed her eyes. Mom’s breath felt warm. She smelled liked citrus. Madison thought that she could feel Mom’s heart, beating hard.

“And I will never, ever forget any of the special things you’ve said,” Mom said.

As she heard those words, Madison’s legs wobbled a little. She hugged Mom back, and her body went limp as a noodle.

As Madison and Mom embraced, however, someone else nuzzled in on the action. Someone furry.

Phin bit into the leg of Madison’s jeans and tugged.

“Oh, Phinnie!” Madison cried. “We haven’t forgotten you, either!”

Mom smiled and turned off her film equipment, and the three of them stepped into the kitchen to have a real, homemade dinner.

Bigwheels freaked me out when she said she had a new keypal. Of course, my worries were groundless. Her relationship with an international class pal wasn’t anything like her relationship with me.
Online relationships are not created equal. Some pals are for today. Some pals are forever.
I thought Bigwheels had thrown me over for another online pal in Australia, but she hadn’t. Melody was only a pal during school. It takes a long time online to really and truly get to know someone.

Visit Madison at the author’s page:
www.lauradower.com

Turn the page to continue reading from Laura Dower’s From the Files of Madison Finn series

F
ROM HER SEAT IN
Mr. Gibbons’s English classroom, Madison had a clear view of the school parking lot, a stretch of winding road that ran alongside Far Hills Junior High. More than anything, Madison wanted to race down that road for home.

But she was stuck inside English class. The students listened to Roger Willoughby, one of the smarter kids in class, as he presented a speech about himself. Roger had not only described his carrot-orange hair perfectly, but he’d slipped in a few jokes about his lisp, his bad handwriting, and his ability to perform magic tricks.

The class was in hysterics. He was a hit.

Madison’s mind, however, was elsewhere. Her gaze drifted from tree to tree outside the window as she silently considered how she could possibly give a speech without putting the entire class to sleep. She wrote in her files all the time, so it wasn’t as if she were a terrible writer or anything, but right now, hearing Roger’s jokes made her doubt her own speech-writing skills.

Whenever Madison thought too hard about something, her mind got all knotted up.

This was one of those times.

After Roger finished, everyone clapped politely, including Madison.

Hart Jones was next.

Hart was a great distraction for Madison; and for a fleeting moment, her doubts faded. Her eyes took in his perfect blue sweater and even more perfect faded blue jeans. His hair, his eyes, his mouth—
everything
about Hart seemed perfectly perfect.

Lately, Hart had moved from being Madison’s crush to being a very real deal. Everyone at school knew, or at least Madison’s friends all knew, that the pair had graduated to couple status. They’d actually held hands three times already: once at the movies, once on Madison’s front porch, and once in school—although just for five seconds, in the hallway. They had not done anything more than that, but Madison was one hundred percent certain that Hart was destined to be the great love of her life. Well, at least the great love of her seventh-grade life.

Hart’s speech mentioned hockey and books by Rick Riordan. He talked about family vacations every year; building a log cabin with his father; and the summer his pet dog Bingo died. Hearing about any dog dying made Madison feel a little sad; but knowing Hart had lost
his
dog made Madison feel sadder than sad. She wondered if that were why he didn’t have a pet right now.

When Hart finished, the class applauded again. Madison’s heart began to race.

Her turn was coming closer.

Madison glanced out the window again and sighed, trying to remember the details of her speech that she had tried to memorize at home the night before. She sneaked a peek at story notes placed on the desk in front of her. Her brain felt fuzzy.

Meanwhile, another girl—a stranger, really—began to read. Madison had often stared at the back of the girl’s head during class, but they had never spoken. All Madison knew was that the girl’s name was Madhur. It seemed impossible that two classmates could sit in a classroom together for so long and not know one another. But they had never had a reason to interact.

Until now.

Madhur had long black hair wound up tightly in a snug tortoiseshell clip; it looked shimmery blue-black in sunlight. She spoke in a low voice with a light accent.

“My parents speak Punjabi at home,” Madhur said, quickly stringing words together like colored beads on a thread. “And then of course they also speak Hindi. And Urdu. And English sometimes … well … obviously. I mean, my mom wants me to learn as many languages as possible, but especially our family’s dialect. I was born here, but my grandmamma always tells me about Punjab, and I know I want to keep that place in my heart for always.”

Madison pricked up her ears when she heard the word “Punjab,” because she remembered a time when her own mom had flown over to Pakistan and India for a work-related project. She couldn’t believe that Madhur’s family was from a part of the world so far away.

“The Punjab state animal is the buck, also called
kala hiran
,” Madhur continued. “It has a black coat and spiral horns. When I was a little girl, my grandmamma got me a stuffed animal that looked just like it. Of course, I love animals.”

Madison found herself grinning when she heard that part, because of course, she loved animals, too. She and Madhur had some important things in common.

“Punjab is a part of the world that is rich with culture. I believe that knowing about my family history makes me a wiser person.”

Mr. Gibbons looked very pleased—and proud—as he listened to Madhur’s speech. His brown eyes did not stray from Madhur the entire time she read aloud. Neither did Madison’s, nor anyone else’s. Madhur had locked on to everyone’s gaze with some kind of invisible tractor beam.

“Grandmamma tells me stories about Punjabi thunderstorms. She always says the thunderstorms in the countryside deliver lightning that splits the sky into pieces.”

Madison’s mind lurched at that description. She imagined a blue sky cut apart like a puzzle.

“In many places, when the temperature has been so hot for so long, a thunderstorm is like the greatest gift. I like to think of the rain like that, like a gift for everyone in its path. Birds like mynahs and black hummingbirds dance on the telephone wires and trees. Of course, rain soon becomes the monsoon. Even though I have never seen one, never seen the sky turn dark like ink, I feel like I’ve experienced all of it. Punjab is a part of me, just like Far Hills is a part of me.”

The class let out a collective sigh as Madhur finished up. Almost without being aware of it, Madison began clapping enthusiastically. She couldn’t believe what a good writer Madhur was. How could one of her classmates have written such a beautiful and poetic story for a homework assignment?

When Mr. Gibbons and the other students joined in the clapping, Madison saw Madhur’s head dip down a little bit. Was she embarrassed by the attention?

“Okay, Madison Finn, you’re up,” Mr. Gibbons said. Madison shot him a look. “Huh?”

“Your turn to speak,” Mr. Gibbons said.

“S—s—speak?” Madison stuttered.

A few of her classmates chuckled.

“Oh,” Madison said, recovering. “Of course. My speech.” She looked down at her notes.

film locations

Amazon forest

editing

cutting-room floor

Mom

great experience

computers

keep track

first plane ride to nowhere

London

South America

my files

The door to the classroom was ajar, and for a split second, Madison thought about running out of the room. She could make a clean getaway if she bolted right now … Madison’s hands felt all clammy and started to shake. Her voice wavered. She looked over at Madhur for encouragement; and Madhur gave her a wide smile.

Concentrate! Madison thought. Breathe!

Before she could get another word out, the final bell rang.

“I’m sorry that we’ve run out of time, Madison,” Mr. Gibbons said. “Why don’t we finish up next class?”

Madison had never been so grateful to hear a bell. “No problem,” she told the teacher.

As students filed out of class, Mr. Gibbons wrote on the board in big letters:
DON’T FORGET! JUNIOR WORLD LEADERS CONFERENCE IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!

He underlined “two.”

“I just want to remind everyone who already signed up to assist at the conference that there’s an important meeting tomorrow. And for those of you who have not yet signed up, it’s not too late! This is the first time Far Hills has ever hosted a weekend event like this. It should not be missed!”

Madison and her friends had signed up a week earlier. The middle-school conference would feature panel discussions about important issues like hunger, AIDS, poverty, terrorism, and more. It seemed so exciting! One of Madison’s BFFs, Fiona Waters, had even been chosen as a speaker for the event. Unlike Madison, who preferred working
behind
the scenes, Fiona loved being center stage. Madison’s other longtime BFF, Aimee Gillespie, also loved the spotlight. Aimee was a ballet dancer who loved performing. Sometimes Madison wondered how people so different from her could turn into her best friends ever.