Give and Take (8 page)

“Maddie, don’t be that way. Besides, we can reschedule the ski trip for another time,” Dad urged.

“Like when?” Madison asked. “Next Christmas?”

“Well, I have a business trip next week,” Dad said. He pulled out his smartphone. “So that means we can get together when I finish my—”

“Work, work, work,” Madison chanted. “Blah, blah, blah.”

“We have had this conversation before,” Dad said. He put away his phone. “Okay, let’s switch gears. Let’s talk about you. Tell me about what’s going on at school.”

Madison told Dad about volunteering at The Estates. She described her visit with Eleanor Romano.

“Sounds like a nice woman,” Dad said. The waiter brought over a basket of bread, and he grabbed a piece.

“But she has Alzheimer’s disease,” Madison explained. “At least that’s what she said.”

“Wow. Really?” Dad said. “And she talks about that with you? Did the doctors and nurses explain this to you?”

“Of course, Dad. They like to prepare us for anything that might happen during one of our visits, so we’ve talked honestly about stuff,” Madison said. “Some residents are handicapped and one lady is deaf. Hilary, the girl who visits with her, speaks sign language.”

“Alzheimer’s is serious stuff,” Dad said, taking a deep, deep breath. “You can’t let it upset you though. Okay?”

“What do you know about it?” Madison asked.

Dad pushed himself away from the table and got very quiet.

“Dad?” Madison asked. “What’s the matter?”

“I never told you this, Maddie, but my Dad, your Grampa Max, suffered from Alzheimer’s disease. At least that’s what the doctors suspected. He got sick very quickly.”

“Grampa Max?” Madison said. She hardly ever heard about Dad’s parents, because they had both died before Madison was born. Gramma Ruth had died years before Madison arrived, and Grampa Max had died only the week before. He just missed meeting his first—and only grandchild.

Dad’s voice quivered as he described the way his father used to talk about his own boyhood. “He was a real spitfire, your grandfather,” Dad said.

“Is it true that you named me after him?” Madison asked.

“Half true. Your mother was an assistant director at Budge Films at the time. She was working on a documentary about Dolly Madison. We both loved the name. And it seemed a good match, too—an
M
name, in memory of Grampa Max.”

“Wow,” Madison said, beaming. “I never heard that story before.”

“Really?” Dad said.

“I really wish you would talk about your parents more, Dad,” Madison said. “I wish I’d known them.”

By now, the waiter had brought the appetizers to the table. Madison sunk a spoon into her French onion soup while Dad dipped his calamari into a bowl of red sauce.

“Oh, brother!” he cried, dropping the food. Sauce had dribbled all over the tablecloth and his shirt.

“We don’t have to talk now if you don’t want,” Madison blurted, sensing that something was wrong.

“Yes we do,” Dad said, wiping off the sauce and placing his hand on Madison’s arm. “We have to talk. I don’t know why we haven’t talked before.”

He moved his chair closer to Madison and started to describe Grampa Max’s life.

Madison hung on Dad’s every word.

What I Don’t Know


Dad told me all this stuff about Grampa Max last night. I can’t stop thinking about it. Grampa was in World War II, just like Smokey. I didn’t know that. I have to tell Egg. And he flew planes, too. Isn’t that amazing? Dad also told me that Gramma Ruth was a seamstress. How did I miss all that information? I need to keep a file on my family history.


Dad talked a lot about the past—even about loving Mom, which seems like forever ago. He gets all mushy when he talks about her, which is the opposite of how she talks. What am I supposed to say when he does that? And as soon as I asked him about their fighting (which is nonstop these days) he denied it flat out. He told me I shouldn’t worry so much. Is he joking?


That’s not the only joke. Poison Ivy is one, too. After everything that happened with the drones yesterday, I figured she would ignore me permanently. But today I saw her in the hall before second period and she said hello. Of course I saw her with Joanie later on this afternoon and she blew me off big time. Does Ivy have multiple personalities? Is she nicer when she’s droneless?


But the worst joke of all is the weather. “Snow, snow, snow,” says the weather lady with the big hair on the Weather Channel. Ha, ha, ha.


Rude Awakening:
The only blizzard in Far Hills is inside my head. There is so much I don’t know—and so much more that I don’t get.


Madison hit
SAVE
and glanced at the clock in the school media lab. She had exactly ten minutes to pack up her stuff and get downstairs to the chorus room. Rehearsal for the Winter Jubilee was starting at three o’clock.

By the time Madison got to Mrs. Montefiore’s classroom, everyone had taken up all the good seats. The band was down in front with flutes and clarinets and two kids at the piano. Madison spied Dan Ginsburg seated near the front, flute in hand. He waved to her.

She played the flute, too. But Madison only went to lessons sometimes. Dan practiced almost every day. Seeing him sitting there made Madison wish she’d practiced more.

“Over here, Maddie!” Fiona yelled across the room.

“Over heeeeere!” her brother Chet said, imitating her. She promptly smacked him on the knee.

Madison laughed and made her way up the row toward Fiona, Aimee, Hart, Drew, and the rest of the gang. Thankfully, they’d saved Madison a seat. And it was in the middle of everyone, not such a bad place to be.

The band started its warm-up as more kids filed in. The teachers waited until the room was nearly packed before starting the vocal warm-ups.

Tap, tap, tap.

At three forty-five, Mrs. Montefiore tapped her music stand and asked the band to play some scales—finally.

Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, ti, do.

It didn’t matter if some kids were off-pitch, like Madison. This was all about the experience and the act of trying to help, and not about being a supersinger, right? That was what Madison hoped.

When Egg sang, every
ahhh
sounded like
quaaack
—like a duck.

Hart rubbed his hands together when he was trying to remember words.

Aimee bounced when she sang.

Madison glanced around. Fiona was the most exciting. Her voice sounded like a flute, the way she jumped from high note to low note and back up again. And a few rows away, someone else was singing just as beautifully.

Madison listened close, straining her neck to see.

It was Ivy Daly. And she knew she was good. Ivy was flipping her hair before every chorus of “Sleigh Ride.” Madison watched her from behind.

“‘Oh, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with yoooooo,’” Hart sang loudly and poked Madison in the back until she jumped.

“‘Giddyap, giddyap!’” Egg cracked.

“‘Giddyap, let’s go,’” Aimee trilled, bouncing her knees.

“‘We’re riding in a wonderland of snooooooow,’” Fiona sang.

Mrs. Montefiore stopped the class at least three or four times so the kids could get the lyrics and notes right. But Madison was more interested in the singers and not the song. She kept her eyes glued to the enemy.

“Beautiful job!” Mrs. Montefiore exclaimed as soon as the band played the final note. “We’ve got a wonderful concert or two ahead of us.”

The room buzzed with voices and energy—the holiday spirit Madison had in mind. Parents would love the concert at school. And the folks at The Estates would love theirs, too. Madison knew Mrs. Romano would be singing right along for sure.

Kids hushed up as Mrs. Montefiore blew a new note into her gold pitch pipe. She frantically waved her arm into the air to get everyone’s attention for the start of the next song, “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.”

Madison snickered to herself. She remembered Fiona’s words from the very first meeting for the Winter Jubilee: “The Grinch song should be dedicated to Ivy and her drones.”

That was no joke.

“SNOW!” Madison screeched. “Look! Snow!” She held out her hand to catch a falling snowflake and watch crystals melt in her palm.

Aimee stuck out her tongue to taste it. “I wish this came in chocolate or butter crunch,” she said.

“Look, it’s the sticky kind,” Fiona said, leaning over to touch the sidewalk with her brown, knit mittens.

The three friends walked home slowly from singing practice, evaluating the weather—and their fellow classmates—every step of the way.

“Rose Thorn fell in dance class today,” Aimee said. “I started to laugh. We had visitors, and I didn’t want to act rude. But it was hysterical.”

“How can you laugh at someone when she’s down?” Fiona asked.

“You sound like a self-help commercial!” Aimee said.

Madison grumbled. “Fiona, they laugh at us. Why can’t we make fun of them, too?”

“Karma,” Fiona explained. “You get what you give.”

Madison gasped. “What did you say, Fiona?” It was what Gramma Helen always said to Madison.

“You get what you give, Maddie,” Fiona repeated. “If you’re mean to someone, then you’ll get meanness in return. I totally believe that.”

“Wow-weeee,” Aimee joked.

“Quit making fun,” Fiona said. “I’m a hundred percent serious.”

“Soh-reeee,” Aimee said, smiling.

Madison knew Fiona was righter than right. The same was true for Poison Ivy Daly. If Madison kept being mean to the enemy, then she’d only get meanness in return.

As the trio walked along, snow continued falling, but lightly. There was no storm on the way, not as far as Madison could see. This was just a dusting, in spite of what the big-haired weather lady said.

“Now that your trip was canceled, what are you doing for Christmas break?” Fiona asked Madison.

Madison shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll spend some more time with Mrs. Romano at The Estates.”

“And you’re coming over to my house, too,” Aimee cried.

Fiona giggled. “And mine, too.”

Madison smiled. “Of course.”

“Do you know what you’re getting this year for presents?” Aimee asked, skipping down the sidewalk and leaving little snow footprints behind. “I asked for new toe shoes.”

“I know my mom got me some new cleats for soccer,” Fiona said. “And I asked for a Kindle, but I don’t know if I’ll get one.”

“What about you, Madison?” Aimee asked.

“Who knows,” Madison said. “I asked for some computer software. And some clothes, of course. But usually Mom takes me shopping after the holidays when all the sales happen.”

“What are you giving your parents?” Aimee asked. “My brothers and I got my mom a one-year membership at the yoga center.”

“I don’t know what to get,” Fiona said. “Chet and I can’t agree on the right gift. I wanted to make them dinner so we wouldn’t have to blow a lot of money. We don’t have that much allowance saved.”

As they were talking, Madison realized that she hadn’t even thought about what she would get Mom or Dad for the holidays. She’d been so worried about her ski trip and Mrs. Romano and the Winter Jubilee concert and everything else at school that she’d forgotten to buy gifts.

“What about you, Maddie?” Aimee pressed.

“I want to get them a snow globe,” Madison blurted.

“Huh?” Aimee said, stopping in her tracks. “A what?”

“Did you say snow globe?” Fiona asked.

Madison nodded. “Mrs. Romano, the woman I visit at The Estates, told me this story about this snow globe she has on her dresser. It represents friendship and love and—”

“A snow globe?” Aimee interrupted.

Fiona chuckled as she bent down to the sidewalk to pick up some snow.

“Maddie, I don’t get it,” Aimee said. “You have to get a better present than that.”

“Heads up!” Fiona said, hurling a mini-snowball at Aimee. It exploded on Aimee’s wool coat. The two of them dashed off down the street—armed and
wet.

Madison blinked at the gray sky and took a deep, cold breath. She wrapped the orange scarf Mrs. Romano had loaned her tightly around her neck and imagined the snowy days long ago when Mrs. Romano may have worn it herself. Did she have snowball fights back then?

And what was wrong with snow globes, anyway? Madison thought they were romantic. Aimee and Fiona just didn’t get it.

Madison wondered what Mrs. Romano would be doing for the holidays. What would her kids be getting
her
for Christmas? Nurse Ana said the Romano family hadn’t visited in two years because they lived in Italy or some other faraway place. Madison felt woozy just thinking about that. She couldn’t imagine living so far away from either parent—even if they were both fighting.

When they turned the corner to Fiona’s house, Aimee chased after Fiona to stop there, too.

“Aren’t you walking the rest of the way?” Madison asked her.

Aimee shrugged. “I just have to stop and get this book I left at Fiona’s. I mean, you can wait if you want …”

Madison shook her head. “I have to get home. You know that.”