Play It Again (16 page)

“Dinner!”

Madison jumped. The message disappeared from the screen. Her pulse was racing so hard all of a sudden that she mouse-clicked the wrong icon on her computer screen.

“Whoa! Mom scared me,” Madison said to Phin.

“Madison!” the downstairs voice bellowed again. “Sorry I’m late! Is Phinnie up there with you?”

“Yes!”
Madison bellowed back.

“Rowrooooo!”
Phinnie howled.

“Come downstairs!” Mom yelled again. “I got takeout, honey bear! Come and eat!”

Madison wasn’t surprised about the menu. Mom had a habit of providing on-the-run dinners for the two of them. Madison usually categorized these meals as “Scary Dinners” in her computer files.

After inhaling the takeout Chinese vegetables and crunchy noodles, Madison started over-thinking.

She thought about the contest.

She thought about ghosts.

She thought about what she wanted for dessert.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Mom said gently, reaching into a white, greasy bag. She produced a slice of cake in a pink plastic carton with frosting smudged on the side.

Had Mom eavesdropped on her mind? Madison contemplated the chocolate, double-butter-cream universe sitting on the table.

Mmmmmm.

She couldn’t wait to take the first bite.

Caught in the Web


Maybe if I could write scary stories, I’d win this new Caught in the Web contest on TweenBlurt. Can my writing possibly compare to Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart?”


I could write a “My Teacher Is Really a Vampire” story. I’d write it about my science teacher, Mr. Danehy, since he really bites. But who would read that?


Maybe I should just write about Ivy Daly and Hart Jones dancing together at the school dance. Now
that’s
scarier than scary.


Here’s the truth: the only Halloween story I’m gonna be able to write is “The Tell-Tale Hart,” without the e and without me.


Rude Awakening:
Life gets tricky around Halloween.


T
HE FAR HILLS HALLOWEEN
Dance Committee meeting was scheduled to begin at three o’clock on Tuesday, just after the last class bell rang. Madison was so excited about the meeting that she had a hard time focusing on her end-of-the-day social studies pop quiz.

She wasn’t the only one. Aimee and Fiona were just as distracted. In fact, Fiona was doubly distracted because after the dance meeting she had soccer. It was the end of the season, and important games were coming up. She couldn’t miss a single practice.

Fiona had considered skipping the dance committee altogether, but Madison convinced her to change her mind. The Halloween dance was
the
turning point at Far Hills. It meant that seventh graders could finally be a part of junior high. They were responsible for planning the important tasks like decorations, food, and music.

Aimee wasn’t going to miss
any
of it. All four of her older brothers had gone to Far Hills Junior High.

Her oldest brother, Roger, told his sister the dance was an inauguration ceremony. “Like you’re finally a member of junior high,” Roger said. “Not just some visitor.”

Her brother Dean, a high school senior, said the dance had been a great way to get noticed and to “meet babes.”

Doug, the ninth grader who’d been to the dance only two years before, said the food was the best part. He hadn’t actually
danced,
but he said the decorations “rocked.”

Only Billy, Aimee’s second-oldest brother, had voiced a negative opinion. He said the “dumb dance was so boring.”

But he would say that.
Billy
was so boring.

Unfortunately, Aimee’s brothers couldn’t really help Madison figure out what she needed help with the most, like what outfit to wear or how to dance. More than anything, Madison wanted to dance with Hart.

Just as she thought about Hart, he walked into Señora Diaz’s classroom. Madison nearly gasped out loud.

It was a sign. It was just like the night before when she’d been thinking about eating dessert and Mom gave her chocolate cake.

“Hey, Finnster,” Hart said, sliding into a seat in the front row. His hand grazed her shoulder accidentally as he walked by.

She felt her face get all red, so she tried to focus all of her energy onto a poster of Barcelona, Spain, that was hanging directly ahead of her on Señora Diaz’s wall. It said
PARADISE.
She stared at the words until they got fuzzy.

Fiona whispered from behind. “Hey, Maddie, did you see that Web contest on TweenBlurt?”

Madison turned around. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna do it,” Madison mumbled. She was happier than happy to get her mind off Hart. “Are you?”

Fiona shook her head.

“What are we talking about?” Aimee asked from one row over. “Are we talking about the dance?”

“No,
we’re
talking about an Internet contest,” Fiona said. “On TweenBlurt.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Madison tried to watch Hart
and
talk to her friends at the same time, but it wasn’t working so well. Hart was turned halfway toward them, wearing a jewel-green shirt that made his eyes sparkle. She still had a ghost of a feeling where his hand had brushed her arm.

“Earth to Maddie,” Fiona joked.

“Oh. Sorry.” Madison snapped back to the conversation. “TweenBlurt. Yeah, the Web site, Aimee, where you can go online and chat. You know.”

“I know
that,
Maddie.” Aimee chuckled. “But I’m pretty much clueless about online chatting.” Madison didn’t understand how Aimee’s dad could have a cybercafé in his bookstore, while Aimee still hadn’t gotten her own screen name.

“But you are the queen of chatting, Aimee,” Madison teased. “Just not on the computer.”

“Which is why you just have to sign up!” Fiona commanded. “Then the three of us can meet up on TweenBlurt and talk. You can get your own screen name. It’ll be the best, Aimee.”

Fiona explained how she and her brother, Chet, had twin screen names. She was Wetwinz with a z, and her brother Chet was Wetwins with an s. Aimee agreed that was pretty inventive.

The classroom began to fill up slowly. Madison counted sixteen volunteers. Even Egg and his good buddy Drew were there.

Señora Diaz charged in behind students.
“Hola, estudiantes!”
she proclaimed, a little out of breath.
“Cómo están? Tienen ganas de que llegue el baile?”

Most kids didn’t have a clue about what was said since they were in basic Mandarin, not Spanish. But Egg tried to help. “She wants to know if we’re excited about the dance,” he explained.

If anyone could translate Señora Diaz, Egg could. Señora Diaz was his real-life mother.

“Thank you for your help, Walter,” Señora said sweetly, as if she were pinching his cheek. Egg muttered something under his breath. Madison knew he hated it when Señora called him by his real first name like that. Mothers who were teachers were way more embarrassing than plain old ordinary mothers.

“Señora Diaz.” Aimee’s hand was up in the air. “Are we supposed to wear costumes to this dance?”

A kid in a blue jacket sitting near the door asked, “Do we have to pay?”

“Is there going to be stuff to eat?”

“Will there be a live band?”

“Settle down, everyone.” Señora inhaled deeply and scratched her head with her pen. “Let’s go slowly.
Estámos preocupados, no?
Lots of ground to cover.”

A couple of kids groaned. Egg leaned across a desk and whispered, “What are
you
going to the dance as, Maddie? A dork?”

“Quit it,” Madison growled.

“Silencio!”
Señora said as she handed a piece of paper to someone in the front row. “Please pass this sheet around and sign up your names and homeroom and phone number. This is our committee contact sheet.”

They would be splitting up into task teams for whatever needed to get done. Seventh graders had all the grunt work of the dance. Eighth and ninth graders just had to show up.

“Are we doing a scary hallway?” Aimee asked. “My brothers said we always do—and that it’s the best part of the whole dance.”

“El Vestibulo! Sí!
Of course!” Señora Diaz said.
Vestibulo
was the Spanish word for “hallway.” In addition to decorating the main part of the gymnasium with streamers and signs, designated areas of the gym would be set aside with aisles of space just wide enough for kids to pass through in the dark. Curtains were drawn all around that space to form a labyrinth. No one could tell which direction was which once inside the curtains. Plus students volunteered to “stand and scare” as unwitting visitors passed through.

“You scream as kids go by,” Señora said.
“Un grito!
Right, Walter?”

Egg shrank down into his chair.

All Drew could do was snort. He always laughed when Egg got embarrassed. He laughed whenever Egg did
anything.

Madison was busy deciding what task team she wanted to help with most. She knew she didn’t want to scream in the scary hallway. She didn’t want to deal with food, either. That was too messy.

Decorating seemed like the best option. She got along well with crepe paper, balloons, and masking tape. Madison had an eye for color, especially the deep orange of construction paper pumpkins.

Thwack!

The door slammed open and the entire room got as silent as a tomb. Everyone turned.

Ivy walked in fifteen minutes late. She said, “Sorry,” but she didn’t look very sorry. She flipped her hair twice. “This is the Dance Committee, yeah?”

“Take a seat, dear,” Señora Diaz said, motioning down toward the front.

“Ex-cuse me,” Ivy said, stepping over someone’s bag. She made a big scene, stepping on four kids just to get to the one empty chair down near Señora’s desk. It was the chair next to Hart.

Madison glared at the space between their seats. She imagined a force field or fence between them. One touch, and
pzzzzzzt!

“Look who’s here—” Aimee whispered, gently nudging Madison. “Figures.”

By the time she got settled, Ivy’s late entry had caused so much commotion that the meeting was temporarily off track. Egg and Drew were cracking each other up. One kid in the back row even had an iPad out.

“Atención!”
Señora Diaz yelled. “Jacob, put that away now or I’ll confiscate it. Look, I think we need to make a dance committee rule that any latecomers to meetings will be excused—permanently—unless I get some valid note or explanation. Is that clear?”

Madison wished Señora would “permanently excuse” Ivy right then and there.

“Ahem.” Ivy cleared her throat and spoke up in a soft voice that sounded nothing like the obnoxious Ivy Madison knew. “I’m really, really,
really
sorry about being late, Señora.”

“Oh?” Señora Diaz crossed her arms. “And your note?”

“I don’t have a
note
exactly, but I was at the nurse … and next time of course I’ll get one. I am sooooo sorry.”

“What a liar!” Madison thought. She knew for a fact that Ivy had been nowhere near the nurse that day. She wasn’t
sick!
She’d probably been in the girls’ bathroom, putting on lip gloss. Ivy sounded so sticky sweet, but Madison knew about the poison that bubbled underneath.

As Señora got the meeting focused again, Fiona raised her hand to be excused for soccer. Señora sighed and reluctantly let her leave.

“Before you go, what task team do you want to be on?” Señora asked as Fiona gathered her things.

Fiona said, “Food,” without missing a beat.

Señora asked who else wanted to be a food volunteer. Almost every boy in the room raised his hand. Madison thought at first that was because they all wanted to be around Fiona. But it wasn’t. These boys were just plain hungry.

After Fiona left, Señora began signing up names for the dance and music task team list. Aimee’s hand shot into the air right away to be the dance task team leader. After all, she was the best dancer in seventh grade. It made the most sense. Not even Rose, Ivy’s dancing drone, challenged Aimee when it came to this.

Aimee leaned over to ask Drew if he’d help pull together all the music, too. Drew’s father was mega-rich. The Maxwells had a recording studio right there on their own property. He could make the best Halloween mix ever.

“Who would like to help lead our decorating crew?” Señora Diaz asked next. Ivy’s hand went up. So did Madison’s.

“Well.” Señora seemed pleased by their double enthusiasm. “What do you each have to say?”

Ivy started talking as if she’d already been put in charge. “I think, as class president, I know what the decorating for our dance should be. I would like to organize decorations. And I really think I can handle the scary hallway setup, too …”

“Fair enough,” Señora Diaz said. “Señorita Finn? Would you like to add anything?”

“Well … just …” Madison cleared her throat. “I just wanna say that—” The words got stuck on the way out.

“Madison,” Ivy interrupted in her hideous, sticky-sweet voice. Madison’s stomach curdled. “I really think we both know who’d be better at taking care of the decorating, don’t we?”