Forget Me Not (From the Files of Madison Finn, 21) (2 page)

How could Madison possibly endure the presence of a film crew at her school, filming her and her friends and her longtime crush? And worst of all, how could she endure a film crew led by her own
mother
?

She looked at her mother and then exploded with a rush of emotion. “Mom, this is like my worst nightmare come to life! You know I have stage fright! You know I can’t do this!”

Mom stood there, flabbergasted. She tried to apologize, but Madison wasn’t listening. When it came to Budge Films and Mom’s job, Madison didn’t want to listen to anything Mom had to say.

For the past few years, Mom’s film job had caused conflict between the two of them. Of course, Madison had been proud of Mom’s awards and other successes. But deep down, Madison also believed that Mom’s constant work and travel had brought on the Big D. The way Madison saw it, talk of divorce had only started when Mom had started to become more successful as a film producer. Madison loved knowing that her mom was a mover and shaker at Budge Films, but she hated the times when there wasn’t enough of Mom to go around.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mom asked. Madison had turned on the mute button, and Mom knew it.

“I’m out of here,” Madison blurted out. She nearly knocked Phin off the sofa as she grabbed her bag and headed upstairs to her room.

Mom quickly tried to make peace by hugging her, but Madison slipped by, refusing. Phin followed close behind.

Once inside her bedroom, Madison settled back on to the assortment of colored cotton pillows and took Phin into her arms for a little doggy comfort. But after a few seconds, he got squirmy and wriggled loose from her grip. That was when Madison flipped over, pulled out her laptop, and booted up.

Brrrrrrrring brrrrong!

“Maddie! Someone’s at the door for you!” Mom called out.

Madison crept out to the top of the stairs. Aimee stood there, looking up with a smirk on her face and a large bag slung over her shoulder.

“Up here, Aim,” Madison called out.

“Thanks, Mrs. Finn,” Aimee said. She turned away from Mom and rushed up the stairs.

“What are you doing here?” Madison asked.

“Well, I should totally be home doing my math homework right now, Maddie,” Aimee said. “But when I was on my way back from dance class, I got the funniest idea, and I knew I just
had
to come over to your place.”

“Funny?” Madison grinned with relief. “What?” she asked. “Please tell me. I need a good laugh.”

Aimee reached inside the tote bag she had on her shoulder and produced a shiny new tablet.

“Is that what I think it is? Aim, are you kidding?” Madison asked.

“Nope,” Aimee said, grinning. She held it up in front of Madison’s face. “Dad said I could borrow it and he downloaded this Film Star app for us, too! We better rehearse our poses before the
real
film crew gets involved. Practice makes perfect, right?”

“Perfect is overrated,” Madison said, holding her hands up in front of the tablet camera so Aimee couldn’t film her.

“Come on, Maddie,” Aimee gushed. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. Smile for the camera. Pucker up and pretend I’m Hart Jones.”

“Hey!” Madison squealed. She looked away. “You’re so mean!”

Aimee gazed at the screen. “But you are soooo beautiful. Be a movie star, Maddie! Come on. At least pretend.”

“Ugh,” Madison groaned. “I don’t feel like it.”

Madison knew Aimee meant well, and she wanted to have a good laugh, but at the same time, she was still dealing with her anger at Mom. Smiling for the camera felt wrong right now.

Aimee tapped the video button
anyway, undeterred by Madison’s grumpy demeanor. She turned the camera toward Phinnie instead of Madison. The pug pranced around—a real ham—as if he knew he was being filmed. He planted his backside on the carpet, scratched at it with his nails, and let out a howl.

Aimee cracked up. She fiddled with the settings so Phin morphed into a super-sized pug and then so there were ten Phins instead of one. The Film Star app had all sorts of cool tricks. “Way to go, Phin! At least
you
know how to smile for the camera.”

“Aim …,” Madison whined. “Fine! I’ll do it. What do I do?”

“Pretend I’m Hart. Now, go!”

“
Mmmwah! Smooch!
Is that what you want?” Madison stuck out her tongue.

“Oh, Maddie,” Aimee clicked the camera off. “You will never win an Academy Award for that,” she joked.

Madison shook her head and sighed. She didn’t want to win any awards. The only thing Madison Francesca Finn wanted was to get as far away from cameras, Mom, and FHJH as possible.

If only she had somewhere to run.

T
HE WELL-COIFED DIRECTOR OF THE
junior-high-school documentary, Julian Lodge, had all the girls in the seventh, eighth, and ninth grades staring when he stood up to present the film team during Tuesday morning’s assembly.

Fiona said it best. “Now
he
looks like a genuine movie star,” she sighed.

Madison, Fiona, Aimee, and their friend Lindsay Frost sat together in the middle of the room. A row away, Egg, Chet, Drew, Hart, and Dan Ginsburg sat together.

“That guy is so …” Aimee stammered.

“Lame,” Egg said. The other boys grumbled.

Madison had to agree, at least a little bit, with Fiona. Julian Lodge was kind of cute. He looked as if
he
were the one who should be in front of the camera. Actually, he also looked like what Madison imagined Hart Jones might look like as a grown-up. Both had the same buzz-cut hair and dark-framed eyeglasses.

After his introduction, Julian perched on a tall stool in front of the microphone, holding a thick notebook wrapped in rubber bands.

“He looks like he’s a nice person, too,” Lindsay said.

“Are we crazy?” Aimee said. “I mean, that dude is at least thirty. He’s positively ancient.”

“Old enough to be my dad,” Lindsay chuckled.

Fiona and Madison laughed along with her.

FHJH teachers paraded up and down the aisles, passing out flyers in different colors. As they moved from row to row, the volume in the auditorium grew louder. Madison overheard snippets of other conversations; everyone seemed to be talking about the video. Julian Lodge had put the room under some kind of magic spell.

Madison wasn’t sure what to think about the whole scene. After the conversation with Mom the night before, she had everything invested in
not
liking anything about the film project, including the director—even if he was cute.

At some point, Principal Bernard and Assistant Principal Goode went onto the stage to quiet everyone back down. But no sooner had they taken over the microphone than a ninth grader with long, shaggy brown hair stood up, waving his arms, holding one of the flyers. Madison recognized him immediately as Larry Dooray, legendary at FHJH for causing trouble during sporting events and school plays. One time he’d stripped off his shirt during a junior varsity basketball game to reveal the school colors and the school crest painted on his stomach. Dooray didn’t seem to mind being a school punch line.

“Uh … I know you said before,” Larry stammered. “But I … uh … what is this film being used for again? I wasn’t really listening.”

The room burst into laughter.

Principal Bernard tapped the microphone. “Okay, Mr. Dooray,” he said. “Take your seat, please. And I’ll see you in my office fifth period.”

The room hissed with more laughter as Larry sat back down.

“Way to go, Larry,” another ninth-grade boy shouted, fist raised in the air.

Madison and her friends giggled so hard that some of the boys snorted. Madison had never seen the student body so pumped up, at least not within recent memory.

After a few more moments of confusion, Principal Bernard finally got the order and quiet he was looking for. He handed the microphone to Julian.

Julian’s voice sliced through the noise in the auditorium. Everyone stopped whispering. All the students wanted—no, needed—to know what part they were going to be playing in the great documentary-film experiment.

“Before we get into the film schedules and all that,” Julian said, “I think it’s a great idea if we talk a little bit about why we’re here. After all, we were scheduled to go to another school for interviews and filming, but those plans changed at the last minute just last week.”

Madison felt a lump in her throat. Aimee elbowed her in the side. Fiona giggled. Lindsay covered her mouth. They all knew what was coming next.

Oh, no. Please don’t say it….

“Thanks to the efforts of our executive producer, Francine Finn, and her daughter, Madison Finn,” Julian said, peering out into the crowd. “Where are you, Miss Finn?”

Madison got a heavy feeling in her gut. Was everyone staring? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hart turn. She couldn’t look at him—or anyone—just then. She wished her seat had an escape hatch. Thank goodness there was no spotlight beaming on to her head. That would have made things much worse.

“Getting back to my point,” Julian continued, waving to Madison once he located her. “The main reason we are here is to ask you kids a series of questions about school life. We’ll film you when we do it, and the footage from those interviews will be reviewed and edited. Some parts of the interviews will appear in a short film for an educational conference next spring.”

“So this isn’t for movie theaters?” some kid called out from the back of the auditorium.

Julian shook his head and laughed. “I’m afraid not. This is really for a very small audience—but an important one. Everything you have to tell us is being compiled for the film and a book.”

“Could you tell us anything more about the project and the book?” Assistant Principal Goode asked.

“Let’s see. We’re working with a special grant to produce a survey of junior-high-school behavior across the country. Your school is just one of several places where we’re stopping to film. Your input is invaluable. You won’t see your face or name at the multiplex, but you’ll be an anonymous resource in a major study of kids your age.”

Out in the audience, Egg yawned. “What a bore,” he mumbled.

Aimee batted him on the head. “What do you know? All you care about is video games.”

Madison and the others—including a few of the boys—snickered.

“Well, that seems to cover the basics. Thank you, Mr. Lodge,” Principal Bernard said, moving to the microphone as Julian stepped back. “But, students, let’s remember that you cannot participate and your footage will not be used unless your parents sign the proper release.”

The sound of shuffling paper was deafening as kids searched for their permission slips among the many flyers that had been passed around.

“Okay, students,” Principal Bernard said. “Does everyone have a schedule?”

The sound of shuffling got even louder.

“Oh, no,” Madison groaned. “They grouped us alphabetically, like in homeroom….”

Alphabetical grouping meant that Madison would probably end up filming with her nemesis, Poison Ivy Daly. Why did they always get grouped together, even though the first initial of their names wasn’t the same?

“Look what it says here,” Lindsay said. “
Filming will take place in either the school media lab or the cafeteria.
How boring! I was kind of hoping they’d film us at the beach or something.”

“Or Paris!” Fiona joked.

“Get real,” Drew said.

“Hey, Maddie, we’re not in any of the same film groups,” Hart said.

Everyone stopped for a moment when Hart said that. Although it was common knowledge that he and Madison were now “in like,” it was still a big deal whenever he paid any kind of special attention to Madison—like now. Madison was only just getting used to it.

“Oh, really?” Madison said, and looked at her feet.

Up on stage, Principal Bernard paced, tugging at his collar while Julian Lodge continued to answer students’ questions. After a very drawn out question-and-answer session, Assembly was finally dismissed.

Conversations flowed right into the hall. The next-period bell was about to ring. Students rushed to grab their books and notebooks. Madison, Aimee, Fiona, and Lindsay migrated back toward the lockers like everyone else.

“I don’t know how I feel about being on video,” Lindsay whined. “Doesn’t the camera put on fifteen pounds? I have to wear black so I’ll look thinner.”

“What are you worrying about that for?” Fiona said. “You look great.”

Lindsay bowed her head. “Thanks, Fiona.”

Ivy and her drones, Rose and Joan, walked by, talking about the film.

“Well, I know
exactly
what I’m going to wear,” Ivy announced in a loud voice. “I have that little purple tee with matching sweater and those embroidered cargo pants with the buttons on the cuffs and my Vans. I just got three new pairs so I could match them to all my outfits.”

Madison stuck her finger in her mouth and made a barf face, to the delight of her friends.

Hart, Egg, Drew, Chet, and Dan lumbered down the hall toward the girls. The boys bragged about which one of them would be the “star” of the video shoot. Naturally, Egg crowed the loudest. He always did everything the loudest.

Aimee nudged Madison. “So wait. I’m confused, Maddie. Where’s your mom? Didn’t you say she had something to do with all this?”

“Oh,” Madison replied, “she does. But she guaranteed me that she’s totally behind the scenes. She told me she wouldn’t be anywhere near the school. Thank goodness.”

After the class period bell rang, talk of the documentary died down a little bit. Madison and Hart trotted off to Mr. Danehy’s science class together. As they walked along, Madison felt Hart bump into her a few times—on purpose. Any reaffirmation (no matter how small or bumpy) of the fact that Hart liked Madison was encouraging.

Upon entering the science lab, however, Madison’s mood shifted significantly. Poison Ivy held court off to the side of the room with Rose and Joan fawning over her, as usual. Ivy’s pink cell phone was out on the desk beside her makeup case. The only thing missing was Ivy’s science notebook, Madison noticed. Of course, Ivy didn’t have to bring her own notes. She’d just steal Madison’s notes instead.