by Laura Dower
“Dad,” Madison moaned. “Don’t start. Please.”
“Start what? Isn’t it acceptable for a father to be proud of his little girl?”
“Yeah, but you get so sappy. You and Mom both do that. Anyway, sit down. Dinner’s served.” Madison set the serving dish on the dining room table. “Oh and for the record, Dad, I’m not a little girl.”
Dad laughed. “I know that, honey,” he said. “Believe me, I know.”
When the baseball game ended in overtime, they finally logged on to Dad’s computer. It was fancy, streamlined with a flat-screen monitor edged in polished steel. Dad always had the highest-quality equipment. Plus he upgraded a lot.
“Let me quickly show you my new Web site,” Dad said as he punched a few keys. When the computer turned on, a photograph appeared.
Unfortunately it was Stephanie, Dad’s new and annoying girlfriend.
“Oh,” Madison said, staring at the screen. “It’s her.”
Just then, the screen dissolved into another picture. This one showed Madison and Phinnie. It was taken last year during a snowstorm.
“It’s not just her. Look, Maddie.” Dad punched a few more keys. “Most of my screen savers are photos of you.”
Madison watched as the picture of her and Phin in the snow dissolved into her school photo from last year, which then dissolved into a photo of Dad on water skis, and then into a photo of Madison waving from the inside of Dad’s car.
The screen finally dissolved for the last time into wavy lines, and Dad’s site booted up. A giant blue logo appeared with the words FINN FRONTIERS.
“That’s my new logo,” Dad said proudly. “For my newest venture. You like?” Dad had started and stopped a whole bunch of businesses in the past ten years. Mom called him a snake oil salesman sometimes, but Madison wasn’t sure she knew what that meant, exactly.
“Wow, that’s neat-o,” Madison said. The logo rotated around and around, leaving a trail of blue “dust” on the screen.
Madison was prouder than proud that her dad was so “with it” where his business was concerned. She didn’t know any other parents in her class into technology and social media the way he was.
“Let’s tackle your technology homework now,” Dad said, exiting his company’s screen. “I think we make a good team.”
Madison agreed.
Hart
Just got back from Dad’s. I have a Swedish meatball stomachache. I also have Hart on the brain.
I talked to The Wiz a.k.a. Hart for a little while after science class. Every time I see him and talk to him alone now is like a big deal, I can’t help it.
Can you say CUTE? Plus, he stopped me in the hall, not the other way around. What does that mean? I congratulated him and he congratulated me and how dumb is that? He will make THE BEST Wiz ever in the history of The Wiz.
I think Ivy likes him, too, which stinks. She always flirts and she will probably find a way to make herself the center of attention in The Wiz and get Hart, too. Aimee’s right. She’s not just playing a witch in the show. She is a real witch.
What would Bigwheels do right now? I bet she is popular with guys. I’m just guessing. Maybe she can help me with the play and with Hart.
That is, if she ever writes back.
Chapter 4
MADISON THOUGHT ABOUT BIGWHEELS all weekend long. Something was obviously wrong. Her keypal had never taken this long to answer an e-mail.
But Sunday morning, when Madison checked her mailbox for like the twentieth time, it appeared.
From: Bigwheels
To: MadFinn
Subject: Re: Something Important to Tell You
Date: Sat 30 Sept 11:58 PM
It’s late. Not like there’s anyone for you to tell, but still don’t tell anyone I was up this late, ok? I had trouble sleeping, so I went online. I’m really not allowed on the computer after ten.
My life is a little strange these days in case you didn’t notice. Can’t really describe why. Just is. I haven’t even been writing poems. I haven’t been writing you. I’ll tell you later. I have to go with my grandfather tomorrow. Scratch that. It is tomorrow. Whoops. I have to go today, Sunday.
Sorry for being out of touch. I hope your play is working out. I think that guy you’re crushing on sounds nice.
Meet me Monday at GOFISHY, ok? I’ll be there around five. Don’t forget.
Yours till the hot dogs,
Bigwheels
The e-mail from Bigwheels took Madison by BIG surprise. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Bigwheels when Bigwheels needed advice. What do you do when your secret online friend has a problem and you can’t tell anyone in the real world about it?
Madison wished she could ask Aimee, but Aimee didn’t even know Bigwheels existed! When Aimee called that night, Madison decided to keep her online secret and to talk about clothes instead.
“Have you decided what to wear to the first rehearsal?” Madison asked.
“Oh my God! Wearing? I don’t know what I’m wearing! Am I supposed to wear something special?” Aimee sounded like she was in a panic. “What are you wearing?”
Madison sighed. “I asked you first, Aimee.”
“I don’t know. What are you wearing?”
Aimee talked in circles sometimes. It was like she was dancing even when she asked questions, bobbing back and forth.
“Why don’t you just wear your flared pants,” Madison finally said. “The blue ones.”
“Maddie, those don’t look good on me.”
Even if Aimee couldn’t figure out what to wear, she’d always have an opinion about what not to wear.
“Wear your gray sweater, then,” Madison suggested.
“You’re kidding, right?” Aimee scoffed.
The next morning, Madison was the one who had to laugh when she met Aimee on the way to school. Aimee had on the blue, flared pants with her gray sweater tied neatly around her neck. Madison had opted for a long black skirt, sneakers, and a purple cardigan sweater with little flowers across the top.
After classes ended, Madison was the first one into the auditorium for rehearsal that afternoon. She sat right down in front, waiting for Mr. Gibbons and all the other students who were picked as cast and crew to take their seats. The room seemed completely different today. It wasn’t dark like before. The whole stage shone with bright white light that washed out the curtains and the floor, making it a warm and inviting place. Instead of nervousness, the room was brimming with excitement.
“Everyone settle down, please!” Mr. Gibbons said as he walked in. “I’m sorry to be late. But please don’t use this as a reason for you to be late to rehearsals, okay?”
Madison turned around and raised her eyebrows in Egg’s direction. He was late to everything.
“Now to begin our first meeting, I’d like to thank you all for being a part of this production,” Mr. Gibbons continued. “As Will Shakespeare said, ‘The play’s the thing.’”
Madison smiled to herself.
“We’re only doing a few numbers from The Wiz, so in all fairness the lines and songs have been divided up equally. I want all students to have an equal opportunity to really shine. I hope you—no—I know you will.”
From the middle of the auditorium, a loud kid named Suresh stuck his fist in the air and yelled, “Yesss!” Everyone laughed.
“Okay, now, settle down.” Mr. Gibbons chuckled. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, and only a very short time to do it.”
Mr. Gibbons explained that the seventh graders would be working with ninth graders in the school’s tech club and art club to get things done. Madison was happier than happy to hear that. It meant working with Mariah Diaz, president of the art club and Egg’s older sister. Aimee and Madison both felt that having Mariah around was like having an older sister of their own—and Egg didn’t mind sharing.
Kids began flipping through the script pages. Madison could hear Ivy and Rose counting up how many lines they each had. Joanie was compl
aining that she hadn’t gotten any kind of lead part.
Mr. Gibbons called everyone in the cast up to the stage to line up in a single row across, but it turned into an instant fiasco.
No one could get it straight. Kids were nudging and shoving all over the place. Finally Mr. Gibbons blew a whistle to get them to STOP! He wanted them in order by height. Simple? No. That took another five minutes to figure out.
Meanwhile the crew stayed seated out in the audience alone. The ninth-grade tech and art clubs had left the room, so the only backstage people remaining were Madison, Drew, and Joey O’Neill, a seventh-grade kid everyone called “Nose Plucker.”
Sitting in the audience was like being on an island and looking over at the mainland. Madison started to get that sinking feeling again. But now she wasn’t just sinking into pillows or seats or anywhere else.
She was just sinking.
Lindsay Frost was up on stage, slouching in her baggy jeans and T-shirt, her hair pulled back in the same barrettes she’d worn at auditions. She was standing right next to Poison Ivy, all decked out in low-slung pants and a short-sleeved sweater that had a kitty-cat decal on it. Madison saw the pair as the sun and moon of seventh grade, opposites traveling in the same sky.
When Mr. Gibbons asked them to pair up, Ivy left a two-foot space between herself and Lindsay. Ivy didn’t want to be paired off with her.
Madison knew the real truth: Poison Ivy would much rather be in orbit with her own drone rather than someone she considered “uncool.”
But none of it mattered in the end because Madison could see that Lindsay was oblivious to Ivy—and everyone else around her. She didn’t seem to care about kitty decals or who was standing where.
Mr. Gibbons clapped as Mrs. Montefiore, the music teacher, played a few scales. She asked the now assembled line of kids to join.
“Vocal warm-ups, boys and girls!” she said. “Do, re, mi … That means you, too. Miss Daly. Come along now. Mr. Diaz, turn and face front NOW!”
Drew leaned over to Madison. “Aren’t you glad you’re down here and not up there?”
Madison nodded. “I guess.”
But inside she felt differently.
Mr. Gibbons explained that on a stage, the place between the actors and the audience is called a fourth wall. It’s what separates real life from the life of the play.
Right now, Madison felt like the wall was separating her from her friends.
When rehearsal ended, Madison felt much better. In a snap, her whole group was back together again by the lockers.
“Let’s go hang at Freeze Palace,” Egg said, looking at Aimee, Madison, Fiona, Chet, Drew, and Hart. “Come on, it’s only four o’clock!”
“Cool,” Hart said. “I gotta be home around five, though.”
“Oh, Chet, we don’t have to be home, do we?” Fiona asked her brother.
“I can’t go, Egg. I have too much homework,” Drew said.
Aimee suggested they go hang out at her dad’s store, Book Web, instead of the ice cream place. The bookstore was closer to school.
“You could do homework, Drew,” Aimee said. “My dad has three new laptops in the cybercafé part of the store.”
“Yeah?” Drew asked. “Are you going, Madison?”
“Yeah, Maddie, are you going?” Fiona asked, tugging on Madison’s purple sweater.
Madison grabbed her orange bag. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
“Let’s boogie.” Aimee twirled around and pushed open the school doors.
Madison was gladder than glad about how things were working out.
Going to Book Web with the cast was a chance to break the fourth wall and be with her friends. Maybe she could even spend a little time with Hart?
Bigwheels would approve.
Chapter 5
“HEY, DADDY.” AIMEE KISSED her father as they walked into his bookstore.
Aimee’s oldest brother, Roger, was behind the Book Web counter, helping a man choose a book for his granddaughter. Roger was working there while he saved money for graduate school. He wanted to be a professor.
Other than that, the store wasn’t too crowded.
“Is it okay if we hang out here for a little bit, Daddy?” Aimee asked.
Mr. Gillespie nodded and extended his hand. “Hello, Walter. And Andrew. And Maddie. And you’re Fiona, right?” He introduced himself to Chet, too, and shuffled the group over to a large table near the back of the store. It was lodged between two giant bookshelves overflowing with used paperbacks.
After a chorus of awkward thank-yous, Mr. Gillespie disappeared into the back room.
Madison sat down first, then everyone else filtered over and squeezed in around her. The table really wasn’t big enough for all seven of them, but they would make it fit. Madison couldn’t believe it when Hart ended up squished on one side of her.
“Sorry,” Hart said when his knee knocked hers.
Madison covered her cheeks because she was afraid she might be blushing.
“Okay, so what did you guys think of the first rehearsal?” Aimee asked the table. “I mean, I think Mr. Gibbons is so nice.”
“Rose is a babe,” Egg said.
Aimee slugged him. “Rose? Egg!”
“Finnster, what does Mr. Gibbons have you doing as stage manager?” Hart asked.
Madison could feel his breath, he was so close.
“Um, well …” Madison tried talking, but the words were lodged in her throat like grapes.
“That’s great that your sister is helping with the set and costumes, Egg,” Fiona piped up. “She’s so glam.”
“Glam?” Egg laughed so hard, he started to cough. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“She is, Egg!” Madison yelled. “Glamorous in her own way.”
“This is boring. Let’s go over to the computers,” Chet said all of a sudden. Hart thought that was a great idea. As he jumped up to join the others, he kicked Madison, but she didn’t mind.
Egg stood up. “We can go online from over there, too. Mr. Gillespie gave me the passwords.”
Before the boys could move to the cyber part of the café, however, a woman rushed over and blocked their path.
“Well, hello,” she said. “Aren’t you all in my daughter’s class?”
It was Mrs. Daly, Ivy’s mother.
Everyone grinned back at her without saying a single word. Poison Ivy was right behind her.
“Ivy tells me your class is doing The Wiz,” Mrs. Daly gushed. “That must be so much fun!”
No one said anything, but Mrs. Daly kept right on talking.
“I was in The Wiz in junior high, too—isn’t that funny?” Mrs. Daly said. “Ivy, don’t you want to say hello to your friends?”
“Hello,” Ivy said curtly. She turned back to her mother. “Can we go now?”
“The Wiz is a great show, Mrs. Daly,” Hart said. “I’m Hart Jones. I’m in The Wiz with Ivy.”
“Oh really?” Mrs. Daly said, impressed.
“Hart’s not in The Wiz, Mother,” Ivy said, perking up for a moment. “He is The Wiz.” She smiled right at Hart but avoided all eye contact with the three girls at the table.
“Actually, we’re all in the play,” Hart said, gesturing to Madison, Aimee, Egg, Chet, Fiona, and Drew.
Everyone said hello. That’s when Ivy’s smile disappeared.
“Can we get your book and just go, Mother?” she said.
“Okay, dear.” Mrs. Daly let out a deep sigh. “Good-bye and good luck to all of you. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Mother, let’s GO.” Ivy grabbed her mother’s arm. Even though she was leaving, Ivy made a point of looking over her shoulder. She smiled at Hart one last time as she walked away.
Madison wanted to scream.
“Maybe we should have asked Ivy to stay and run lines with us?” Fiona whispered as Ivy and her mother walked away.
“What?” Aimee said. “I don’t think so, Fiona. I mean, oh my God, she’s usually so nasty to us, so why should we—”
“She’s not nasty; she’s cute,” Chet said to Egg. All the boys laughed knowingly, even Hart. Ivy might be the meanest girl in class, but she also had the best hair and showed her perfect belly button whenever she had the chance. Boys loved that.
“Hey, check this out.” Hart pointed to a page in his script. “In this scene I wear a big mask. And Fiona, you have to wear bad-witch makeup. Egg, are you gonna wear tinfoil as the Tin Man or what?”
Egg clapped him on the shoulder. “Ha, ha, ha, Hart.”
Drew snorted.
Madison couldn’t take her eyes off Hart. She wondered if she would be the one to help him put on his mask before the show.
She hoped.
Talking about all the costumes also made Madison think of her prop list. She went back through the script for items.
Crystal ball.
Lion’s whiskers.
Special silver slippers.
Even with Mariah and the art club’s help, Mr. Gibbons would have a lot of preparation to do—and Madison would be the one helping him do it. The role of stage manager now seemed way harder than just playing one part or singing one song.
“Wow, they’re cutting a lot out of the original show.” Hart flipped through the rest of his script pages. “‘Selected scenes’ means we lose half the songs.”
Drew checked his watch for the tenth time. “Don’t you guys have a test tomorrow? I do.”
“Yeah, me too,” Hart said. “I gotta fly.”
“Is it five o’clock already?” Madison asked. She suddenly remembered her chat plans with Bigwheels. “I better get home to …”
She wasn’t about to tell everyone there about how she really had to hurry home to go in a special chat room to see what was wrong with her online friend’s life.
“… to walk Phinnie,” Madison finished.
“Can’t Phin use the dog door?” Aimee asked.
“Who’s Phin?” Hart asked.
“Her pug,” Fiona answered.
“The Finnster has a Phin?” Hart joked.