Forget me not, p.10
Forget Me Not, page 10
Why was she way more interested in berry gloss and her glittery cell phone cover than she was in Madison? Was everything Ivy said on the video interviews a lie? Why hadn’t Ivy ever said that nice stuff to Madison’s face?
“Your attention! Your attention, please!” As Principal Bernard’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker system, Ivy slipped her phone back into her bag. Everyone in the room stopped to listen.
“Good morning, students. I am sad to announce that this morning we are saying good-bye to Mr. Lodge, Mrs. Finn, and their phenomenal film crew, who have been here at FHJH for a little more than a week. But we have a treat for you. After lunch, we will have a students-only screening of some rough footage from the interviews, during the main assembly. As a result, I am canceling the last two periods of the day so everyone may attend the screening. Of course, I expect your full cooperation in making this special event run smoothly. No running in the halls. No loud talking …”
As Principal Bernard spoke, a cheer rose up in the room. Madison heard the other seventh, eighth, and ninth graders yelling out and applauding in homerooms nearby.
“Hey, Maddie, I wonder if I made the video even though I was out sick,” Egg wondered aloud. “Do you know? Did your mom tell you who made the cut?”
“No-o-o-o …” Madison grinned and shook her head.
It was a good question—and Madison realized she had no idea what Julian and Mom had chosen as the best of the best moments, even though she’d seen the B-reel at home.
Egg’s question got her thinking (well, overthinking) all day: through Social Studies with Aimee; during a math pop quiz; and even during lunch. And by the time the last lunch bell finally rang, around one o’clock, she was still thinking about it.
“Let’s go!” Aimee said, grabbing Madison’s arm. They locked arms and headed for the assembly room with Lindsay, Fiona, and everyone else.
Principal Bernard’s warnings to keep voices down didn’t do much good. The room was noisier than noisy. Crowds of seventh, eighth, and ninth graders spoke and whistled at the tops of their lungs.
Anticipation for the screening was contagious. Even the teachers were in a flurry, talking about their own possible appearances on the film. Nothing like this had ever happened at FHJH before.
Madison hoped that she and Hart would sit near each other, but that wasn’t how it worked out. She ended up in a seat between Dan and Lindsay instead.
After a brief introduction from Principal Bernard, Julian Lodge stepped up to the microphone.
Madison couldn’t take her eyes off him. She replayed in her head the moment in Mom’s office when she’d walked in on them in a clinch.
“He’s still such a hottie,” Lindsay said with a giggle.
Fiona and Aimee giggled, too, but Madison’s face flushed.
This was the first time she’d really seen Julian in person since learning the whole truth about his relationship with Mom. It embarrassed her to hear the things her friends were saying. What would they say if they knew Madison’s mom was dating the director? Wasn’t that against the rules or something?
“Would you girls just shut up?” Egg said.
Now Madison giggled with relief. “Yeah, girls, let’s stop talking about him like he’s a movie star. He’s just the director.”
Aimee screwed up her nose and made a face at Madison. “What’s gotten into you?” she asked. “I thought you liked Julian.”
The lights in the auditorium dimmed. A few ninth graders let out a loud “Whoo! Whoo!”
The film began.
In truth, the rough cut was nothing more than a few scenes spliced together without making very much sense. But the film crew had captured some key, funny moments.
The opening scene panned across a classroom packed with eighth graders. Kids on screen spoke about the perils of being in junior high. As each person on screen talked, friends from the audience shrieked with laughter and excitement.
Next came a sequence of head shots set to music. Narration accompanying the shots of faces said, “Junior high is a time to try new looks, new attitudes, and new friends.”
Up on the screen Madison saw Josh, a cute ninth grader, who also happened to be her next-door neighbor. She let out a little clap. It was hard to resist the urge to clap for all the faces. And Josh was extra special, even though he and Madison had been an item only in her dreams.
The loudest applause came when a familiar female face appeared.
“Look!” Egg cried. “It’s Mariah!”
Madison smiled. Up on the screen, Egg’s older sister Mariah’s hair had been streaked pink at the edges. She’d highlighted it for the winter break; only some of it had washed out in the shower. Mariah also wore several piercings, including eyebrow, nose, and ears. During school, piercings and heavy jewelry were not allowed, but after hours (or during a film shoot) exceptions were often made—and Mariah was one of them.
“What a freak!” Egg said, joking around. The real Mariah, seated ten rows ahead, whipped her head around.
“Watch it!” she cried.
Egg pretended that he hadn’t heard his sister’s slam, but of course he had. Egg always heard everything.
A musical interlude played over the quick succession of candid photos taken all over the school. As each photo appeared, the person in the picture would say, “That’s me!” and the room would start laughing.
Ivy let out a squeal when she saw herself up there on screen. Her drones cheered, too. But Madison held her breath. What would Ivy say? Would her true confessions make the rough cut?
“I think the best parts of junior high are the cliques,” Ivy said, flipping her red hair the way she always did when she was trying to be impressive. “I think exclusive groups are important. They give everyone something to aspire to.”
Madison couldn’t believe that out of all the nice things that had been said, this was the Ivy clip that Mom and Julian had chosen.
Close call.
Madison settled back into her chair.
Okay, this wasn’t so bad at all.
As she watched, the screen split into four equal parts. Four boys’ faces appeared. Hart’s was one.
“Hey look, it’s you!” Egg teased Hart. “I wish I had something to throw at the screen.”
“Funny,” Hart mumbled, his head in his hands.
Madison leaned around Lindsay and gave Hart a sidelong glance.
Don’t worry. Madison mouthed the words and smiled broadly at him. You look good.
Hart smiled back. “Thanks, Finnster,” he whispered.
“Look!” Fiona blurted out.
Madison snapped her attention back to the film. Up on the screen she saw a very different scene now: Fiona and her teammates taking to the soccer field. The narrator read off some facts about sports and teenagers while the camera moved in slow motion over Fiona’s hands and knees and up to her face. She had a determined look on her face, the way she always did before performing penalty kicks.
“I can’t believe they’re going to show you missing that kick,” Aimee said.
“I know!” Fiona covered her eyes. “Don’t look!”
“No, look!” Madison cried. She pointed up to the screen.
Madison knew Mom wouldn’t embarrass Fiona. She remembered back to the day at the field. Julian had been so determined to get the right shot. But he hadn’t cared at all about whether or not the soccer ball had flown into the goal net. He had cared only about the anticipation, the sweat, and the hard, hard work. That was what he’d hoped to capture on the film.
Egg wasn’t saying much now. He gazed up at the screen, moon pie-eyed and proud. Fiona looked beautiful up there, getting ready to make her big kick. She looked like the stars she loved, like Mia Hamm and all the rest.
All at once, the screen dissolved into another shot, of kids playing basketball. Chet was on camera a little bit, catching a ball and making a pass. Egg teased him about it just as he’d teased everyone else (except Fiona, of course).
Swiftly the film moved into the FHJH ice hockey arena. The camera swirled around a bunch of eighth and ninth graders on the hockey team as they skated and bucked the sideboards and shot pucks into the net. Then the camera pulled back and panned across the bench.
Egg sat on the end, staring off into space.
“It isn’t whether you win or lose. It’s how you play the game,” the narrator’s voice said. “If you play the game.”
Madison let out a little laugh. Lindsay laughed, too. Pretty soon, everyone in their row was doubled over.
“That’s the footage of me that they showed?” Egg complained. “Aw, Maddie, you have to get your mom to pull that out. Please.”
Madison kept right on laughing. No one felt too bad for Egg. After all, he’d opened his own big mouth one too many times. It served him right.
More scenes followed from the halls of school.
“In addition to heavy class work,” the narrator continued, “the students at Far Hills Junior High take their responsibilities outside the classroom very seriously.”
The camera focused on a group of ninth-grade candy stripers who volunteered at the local hospital. Then it showed a few kids and teachers planting seedlings up in the school’s greenhouse. Finally, it showed a litter of new puppies.
“Oh, no,” Madison said.
The camera zoomed in on the litter and then pulled back. Madison was leaning over, smiling. Dan stood behind her, his hands on Madison’s shoulders. They were laughing together.
Dan nudged Madison. “Hey, it’s us. Trippy, right?”
Madison couldn’t sink any lower in her seat. She could feel Aimee’s eyes, Fiona’s eyes, Egg’s eyes—everyone’s eyes—on her.
“Trippy,” she said to Dan.
Madison glanced over at Hart, expecting the same kind of reassurance she’d given him.
But Hart wasn’t looking at her. He stared straight ahead at the screen, eyes fixed on Madison and Dan, who were still sharing a good laugh.
“Pretty dumb, huh?” Madison said, trying to get Hart’s attention.
He looked over and shrugged. “You bet,” he said. Then he turned to Chet, who was sitting on the other side of him.
Lindsay leaned into Madison. “What’s his problem?” she asked softly.
“He’s just being goofy,” Madison said, trying to laugh it off.
By now, the film had split into equal parts again. First it was split in half and then into fours and then into sixteen little squares. Each square contained the face of one of the students. The cubes got smaller and smaller still, until they were little gingham dots representing the bulk of the student body at FHJH.
Background music played as the lights came up in the auditorium.
Chet and Egg gave each other a high five for being stars, even though Fiona joked that they were only “stars in their own little minds.”
When Madison looked over a third time at Hart, he was still not speaking to her—or anyone else. Now Madison was beginning to worry.
“Um … Hart?” Madison whispered, hoping to get Hart’s attention.
Principal Bernard leaned into the microphone up onstage and told everyone in the assembly room that they were dismissed. Teachers helped students exit the room and head for their lockers in an orderly fashion.
Madison tried catching up with Hart on the way out.
“Hold up!” she said, tagging his shoulder. “What did you think?”
“I didn’t know you and Dan were hanging out,” Hart mumbled.
“Hanging out?” Madison asked. “That was just at the clinic,” she said.
“Yeah, sure …” Hart said.
“Really, we’re just friends, Hart,” Madison said. “You know that.”
“I guess,” Hart said. He pushed ahead slightly into a crowd of kids and Madison lost sight of him.
“Maddie!” Aimee grabbed Madison’s arm. “Wait for us.”
Fiona was right behind her. “Hart looks mad. What’s up?”
“He’s acting weird about the video. I don’t know why,” Madison said.
Lindsay joined the cluster of BFFs, a big smile on her face.
“Aw, Hart’s just jealous,” Aimee said. “I was watching him watching the video,” she said.
“This is like a soap opera,” Madison said. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why is he mad at me?”
“Not mad, Maddie,” Aimee said. “Jealous. There’s a big difference.”
“Well you were touching Dan,” Lindsay grumbled.
“What?” Madison asked.
“I think the whole scene is a good sign,” Fiona said.
“What’s good about it?” Madison inquired.
“This is a sign that Hart likes you,” Aimee added.
“Um … where’s the sign that Dan likes me?” Lindsay asks aloud.
Madison, Aimee, and Fiona shot her a look.
Then the four of them burst into laughter.
Chapter 13
MADISON DUMPED HER ORANGE messenger bag on to the kitchen table at home on Monday night. Her favorite pen rolled onto the floor. She sifted through scraps of paper, including a bright yellow flyer that she’d ripped off her locker before coming home.
It’s a Wrap Breakfast
Come Say Thank You and Good-bye
to the Film Crew
Far Hills Junior High School Cafeteria
Tuesday Morning
7:30–3:30 AM
Mom strolled into the kitchen carrying a pile of papers.
“You’re home!” Mom said. “I’m sorry I missed the premiere at school today. We’re under such a tight deadline. Julian needed me to continue viewing the B-reel. The rough cut you saw was really just thrown together. We have so much work left to do….”
“It was good, Mom,” Madison conceded. “Really good. I liked it.”
Mom grinned. “Really good? Well, gee, that’s like an Academy Award nomination, coming from you.”
“Ha-ha, very funny,” Madison said.
“No, I’m pleased that you liked what you saw. Even the part with you on film?” Mom asked cautiously.
“Even the part with me,” Madison said.
“Good,” Mom said.
Madison reached out to take Mom’s arm, but the pile of papers slid through Mom’s hands and fell on the floor.
“Oh, no!” Mom cried. “I just spent an hour putting those time-code sheets in order.”
“I’m sorry,” Madison blurted. “I just …”
Mom was on her hands and knees. “This project has turned into a headache in more ways than one, I swear….”
Madison stood back, surprised at Mom’s admission.
“What do you mean? You just said it was good …” Madison said.
“Oh, Maddie, I just have a lot on my plate,” Mom replied.
“You mean Julian?” Madison asked.
“Julian? Hardly. We never talk about anything but work.”
“Um … Mom … I was wondering … if … can you take off a little time tonight and just hang out with me?” Madison asked. “I really feel like talking.”
“Oh, honey bear, tonight? There’s just no way,” Mom said. “I have too much to do right now. And now these papers … what a mess. Can it wait?”
Mom scrambled to grab at the papers and shuffle them into new piles.
“Well, I guess I’ll go do homework or something then,” Madison said.
“Yes, you go ahead and do that,” Mom said. “I’ll be in my office.”
Madison walked away.
“In your office,” she said under her breath. “What a surprise.”
Upstairs, Madison turned again to her laptop.
At least it had time for Madison tonight.
She logged on, searching to see if her keypal was logged on, too. For some reason, her message to Bigwheels came back “undeliverable.”
Madison went into her files.
Working
Rude Awakening: Mom’s always, ALWAYS working. So how come my relationship with her isn’t?
This is such old news, but for the first time I actually feel jilted. I’ve spent the last week or so stressing about Mom and the video and Julian and her dating and EVERYTHING. And today I finally get it. I get what she’s doing with these movies. I see that maybe Julian isn’t such a bad guy. But when I try to let Mom know that for once I really DO get it, she says she’s too busy to talk and off to her office she goes.
I HATE HATE HATE THAT!!!
Not to mention the fact that Bigwheels is MIA. (Hmmmm. I wonder: is EVERYONE running away from me? First Mom, then Hart, and now my keypal, too? Argh!) Something is always up when Bigwheels doesn’t answer e-mail. I’m so sure she’s off chatting with Melody. :>P
Maybe I need to get my very own class pal. That’ll show Bigwheels that she’s not the only one who
Madison’s computer dinged.
Madison let out a little gasp. She curled her feet up underneath her and started typing madly on the keyboard.
