by Laura Dower
“Hello, Hart,” she replied sheepishly. She couldn’t be mad at him right at first for getting her all wet.
Hart kicked his feet and water sprayed around in every direction, especially at Madison. She tried to laugh like he was doing something funny, but she really wasn’t very happy about it.
“Could you splash over there?” Madison asked.
Hart just laughed. “Okay, sure.” Then he turned around and kicked his feet out again toward Madison. A spray of water came flying her way and she squealed.
“HART!” Madison said.
She stood up, exasperated, and reclipped her soaked hair onto the top of her head, her blue T-shirt now heavy with water. It sucked against her body with the worst pucker and cling ever.
“Sorry!” Hart said, laughing.
Chet gave him a high five.
“It was just a joke, Maddie!” Chet yelled.
Aimee, who’d been watching the splashing, swam over and got revenge on behalf of her BFF. She soaked Hart from where she was treading water.
Splash!
Aimee climbed up onto the dock. “Are you okay?” she asked Madison.
“Yeah, are you okay?” Fiona yelled, swimming over to the other side of the same dock. She treaded water.
Madison nodded. “I’m okay. Just wet.”
“Take off your shirt and dive in,” Fiona said. “We can get my brother back. I know how.”
Madison shook her head and leaned backward, dangling her feet into the lake and wringing the water from her shirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Hart was swimming over. Chet was right behind him. Playfully they pretended to splash each other—and then they splashed Madison again instead.
“You guys!” Madison said. “I said, quit it!”
“Quit what, Finnster?” Hart laughed.
“Quit THIS!”
And with one great kick, Madison sent a wave of water cascading over Hart’s head. All the other kids on the docks roared with laughter.
“HA! HA! She got you good,” Chet said, chuckling.
The lifeguard blew a whistle. “STOP THAT NOW!” he commanded, coming over to the area where they were swimming. He planted himself on the dock there so everyone would stop acting up once and for all.
Madison smirked and smoothed out her wet hair. The splash fight was over, and she was gladder than glad. Unfortunately, something was missing. Madison’s hair was loose. With all the splashing, her tortoiseshell clip had flown off into Lake Dora.
Frantically she bent over to see if the clip was floating anywhere nearby, but didn’t see it. Hart swam over to see what was wrong, but she barked at him.
“Get away!” Madison cried. “I lost something!” She looked everywhere for the hair clip. It was gone.
Hart tried to help her look, but he gave up after a little while. Madison gave up, too. By now, her blue T-shirt was weighted down and stretched out by the water it had absorbed. It was hanging way down below her bottom. She walked quickly back over to Lindsay on the beach and dug around in her bag for a loose rubber band to pull her hair back up.
“What happened?” Lindsay asked, rubbing some sunblock on her shins. “I saw you guys were splashing each other…”
“Boys are just idiots,” Madison said, squeezing some more water out of her shirt. “And I lost my favorite hair clip.”
Aimee and Fiona came rushing over from the lake and collapsed onto their own towels.
“You missed it, Maddie!” Aimee said. “When that lifeguard turned his back, Fiona finally splashed Hart and Chet back—and good! They got water up their noses and everything.”
Fiona laughed. “That was so much fun! My brother and I always get each other like that. You have to be very strategic.”
“Yeah, my brothers and I splash a lot, too,” Aimee said.
Madison wondered if she hated splashing so much because she didn’t have a brother.
“Hart Jones is an awesome swimmer,” Aimee said. “Did you see that flip he did in the water?”
Fiona nodded. “Yeah, too bad FHJH doesn’t have a swim team. He’ll definitely be on the team in high school.”
Madison listened as her friends talked about Hart like he was something special. She couldn’t understand why, for the first time, she didn’t feel the same way. Because of him, she’d lost her favorite clip.
“Who wants a snow cone?” Aimee said all of a sudden.
Madison felt hot and damp and didn’t really want a snack, but she went for the walk. Fiona and Lindsay decided to stay behind and talk about soccer camp.
“Don’t let me forget, I have to put lemon juice in my hair,” Aimee said as they walked to the snow cone stand.
“Uh-huh,” Madison said, half listening. She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. The blue T-shirt was drying quickly now. She didn’t feel quite as self-conscious as before—even without her favorite clip.
“Mmmmmm,” Aimee said when she got her treat. “It’s grape. Want a bite?”
Madison shook her head and giggled because Aimee’s lips and tongue were turning purple with every lick. But Aimee didn’t seem to care.
Fiona and Lindsay had disappeared by the time they came back to the towels, so Aimee and Madison just sat down to relax for a while. Madison saw Hart sitting a few yards away, and she was pretty sure he was waving, trying to get her attention.
But she ignored him and waved to Drew instead, who was passing by at that exact moment. He came over and sat near the girls.
“This is cool, being here at the beach with everyone, right?” he said. Drew was the one who’d organized the Lake Dora outing in the first place. He was always planning events like pool parties and minigolf games at his parents’ house and other places in Far Hills.
Aimee licked her snow cone and nodded.
Madison raised an eyebrow. “I guess so,” she said. “Like when I’m not getting splash attacked.”
Drew chuckled. “Oh yeah, I saw that.”
“Yeah,” Madison said. “Very funny.”
“Either of you guys going to camp this year?” Drew asked.
Aimee spoke up immediately about ballet camp starting in only a few weeks. Drew then told them how he was headed to archery camp this summer. It was a toss-up between that and computer camp, and he’d picked archery.
Madison didn’t have any camp plans, so she didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation. As Drew kept talking, her thoughts drifted off and she started to make a minicastle out of the sand on her right side. A piece of paper blew over where she was digging.
Drew snatched it.
“‘July Fourth Extravaganza!’” he read aloud from the flyer. “Oh, man, this is going to be the biggest blast ever, don’t you think?” He turned the paper around to show it off to Madison and Aimee. “Aren’t you psyched, Maddie?”
Madison frowned.
After all, she wasn’t going to the blast. She was going to Gramma’s.
Not even a beautiful sunny day at the lake could change that.
Chapter 4
“GIVE THAT TO ME,” Aimee said, taking the flyer out of Drew’s hand.
“Don’t grab!” he said. “What’s your problem?”
“Drew, we can’t talk about this right now,” Aimee whispered. “Maddie can’t go to the Fourth of July this year.”
Drew turned to face Madison. “Oh, wow,” he said. “How come?”
“I just have to go to my gramma’s house in Winnetka,” she explained.
“Where’s Winnetka?” Drew asked.
“Near Chicago,” Madison said. “Far away.”
“That really stinks,” he said.
Aimee socked him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Drew,” she said. “Are you trying to make her feel worse?”
Madison sighed. She didn’t need help feeling worse.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Drew said.
The sun—and the subject matter—were getting superhot by now. Drew suggested that maybe they could go for a ride on the paddl
eboat to cool off.
Madison wanted to stay away from the water. She said no.
Aimee jumped right up. “I’ll go,” she said, standing up and brushing the sand off her bottom. “Sure you don’t want to go, Maddie?”
Madison shook her head no again and leaned back on her elbows to watch the lifeguards instead. Leaning backward was the best way to lie on a beach towel. It made her stomach look flatter.
But she wasn’t left alone for long. Moments after Aimee and Drew walked off to the boathouse, Fiona and Lindsay came back.
“Hey!” Fiona said, sitting down on her towel. “What are you staring at?”
“That lifeguard,” Madison said, cupping her hand over her eyes so she could see him better through the sun glare. “He’s kind of cute.”
Fiona smirked. “Earlier today, that one said I was a good swimmer,” she said proudly. “And he’s not kind of cute. He is wicked cute.”
Lindsay laughed. “He’s cuter than Egg,” she said.
Fiona fake-punched her and laughed. “Gosh, does everyone on the planet know that I like Walter?” she said, using his real name.
“Walter?” Madison said, sitting up. “Fiona, no one calls him that but his mother.”
“Well, I think Egg is a dumb nickname,” Fiona said. “It makes him sound like an egghead or something.”
Of course, that was the whole idea. Aimee and Madison had nicknamed him that way back in elementary school after he got egged in the head by kids playing a Halloween prank.
“I think you guys should go on a real date,” Lindsay said. “He obviously likes you, too.”
Fiona gulped. Madison couldn’t believe Lindsay would say that right out in public, but she did.
“No way, Lindsay!” Fiona said, embarrassed. “Besides, I’m leaving for soccer camp, and he’s off to computer camp soon. And my mom and dad won’t let me go on a real date. Do yours?”
“Who’s going to ask me on a real date?” Lindsay asked.
Madison started to say, “Who wouldn’t?” but she cut herself short. Egg was walking toward them at that exact moment—and Hart was following right behind him.
“Hey,” Egg said, smiling in Fiona’s direction. “Some of us were thinking about playing volleyball. You want to join in? I mean, all three of you.”
Madison smiled. “Sure,” she said for the three of them.
“Cool,” Hart said, looking right at Madison.
“Yeah, cool,” Egg said, turning to Hart. “That means we’ve got me, you, Drew when he comes back in, Dan, Lance, Chet, Fiona, Lindsay, Aimee, Maddie, Ivy, and Joanie.”
“Ivy?” Madison said aloud without realizing it.
“Yeah.” Egg pointed over to the refreshment area. “She and Joanie just got here a little while ago.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Whatever,” she said.
“What’s the big deal?” Egg asked.
Fiona shook her head and huffed. Madison and Lindsay let out a little sigh. After so many years of being friends, Madison couldn’t believe Egg remained so dense about their biggest seventh-grade rival. When was he going to learn once and for all that Ivy was the ENEMY?
Hart was no better. He just smiled. “That’s cool,” he said, having no clue about what was the matter.
The boys told all three girls to meet them over by the volleyball net on the other side of the beach in a few minutes.
“Oh-em-gee! Who invited her?” Aimee asked when she saw Ivy primping and prancing around in her neon bikini top and short shorts.
“Don’t ask,” Fiona said. “Egg did. Maybe I don’t like him as much as I thought I did.”
“Could her shorts be any shorter?” Lindsay asked.
Madison let out a big “HA!” and took her place on the side of the net where she’d been assigned. As fate would have it, Ivy took her own position right next to Madison.
“I’m so bad at volleyball,” Ivy said, tugging at her top. Madison had a sudden vision of Ivy crashing into the net, into the sand, and losing her top in front of the entire world—only to slink away in shame…
But that was just a dream. Ivy’s top wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was Ivy.
The first serves and setups were mellow. Madison’s side—calling themselves the Kings—went ahead by three points. Hart was serving, and even Madison had to admit that he was really good.
“Way to go, Hart,” she shouted, clapping. It seemed like the supportive thing to do. However, instead of helping, it distracted him. Hart sent his next service directly into the sand with a pow!
“Way to go, Maddie,” Ivy teased, clapping.
Madison didn’t say a word as they rotated positions.
On the other side of the net—calling themselves the Supertanks—Aimee and Fiona jumped around excitedly. Fiona was ready to serve, and she sent the ball soaring over the net with an overhand smash.
Ivy stepped to the side when it came over, leaving Madison alone to get it back. Madison dove—and missed. She landed face down in the sand.
“Oh, jeez!” Dan said from behind. “What happened there?”
Madison picked herself up from the sand and gave Ivy an evil stare.
And then the same exact thing happened again with the next serve.
“Get the ball once in a while, Ivy,” Madison said. “Instead of running away from it?”
Ivy threw her hands into the air. “It was on your side. I didn’t want to interfere,” she said.
Hart spoke up from behind them. “That really was your ball, Maddie.”
Madison wanted to run away as soon as he said that. But she gritted her teeth and stayed put. Luckily, by the time her own turn to serve came up, she got two points right away. Even Ivy couldn’t argue with success. On the next go-around, all of Ivy’s serves went under the net.
After a few more rounds, someone yelled out that it was almost two-thirty. Madison and the rest of the group started to head back toward the docks for one last swim or canoe ride.
“So—are you guys going swimming?” Ivy asked. “Me and Joanie are. Since we got here late, I mean.”
Hart turned to Madison. “Want to go back in the water?” he asked her.
“Uh, no,” Madison said quietly.
“I promise I won’t splash you this time,” Hart said.
Ivy chuckled.
Madison wanted to slug them both.
“Well,” Hart said. “I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, later, Maddie,” Ivy said. She had gotten what she wanted. Ivy ran ahead to the lake without any competition.
While Madison kept her distance from the docks, Aimee and Fiona raced to take a kayak out for one last go around the lake. Madison sat down on her towel and just stared out at the water, wishing that she didn’t have to leave these friends and head to Chicago that weekend. The lake had turned so many shades of blue during the day. Just like Madison felt.
Out of nowhere, Hart appeared.
“Good volleyball game, Finnster,” Hart said, sitting down right next to Madison on the sand.
She looked up, surprised. “Thanks, I guess,” she said.
They sat in silence for a moment or two.
“Hey, I like your T-shirt,” Hart said, tugging at its edge.
Madison pulled away a teeny bit. “Yeah, it got all wet before, but the sun dried it out. I guess it’s silly that I didn’t just take it—”
“Huh?” Hart asked, distracted.
“Nothing,” Madison said. Was he listening to her?
“Aimee told me you won’t be at the Fourth of July,” Hart said.
“No,” Madison sighed dejectedly.
“Bummer,” Hart said. “Everyone’s going to be there. It would be cool—”
Splash! Splash!
“Aaah!” Madison wailed.
While Hart had been talking, Madison had gotten doused with a bucketful of water. Her hair dripped wet.
Egg jumped out from behind, cracking up. He was holding an empty pail of water. Chet was standing next to him
laughing just as hard. Hart couldn’t help but laugh, too.
“Why did you do that?” Madison screamed. She felt a surge of summer heat inside herself—nerves, anger, and most of all, embarrassment.
“Lighten up, Maddie,” Egg said. “It’s just for fun!”
Madison threw a fistful of sand toward him, missing completely.
Had Hart just been the decoy? Madison looked at Hart as he ran off behind Egg and Chet. She stood up and wrung out the bottom of her T-shirt.
“Hey, Madison!”
Madison looked up. Hart was running back over to her.
“I almost forgot,” Hart said, tossing something onto the towel next to Madison. “I found this before. I think it’s yours.”
He ran off to the dock, quickly diving into the water before Madison even had a chance to say a word back.
She sighed when she saw what he’d left behind. There on the towel was the tortoiseshell hair clip she’d lost hours before.
Back home that night, a slightly sunburned Madison searched her e-mailbox for a new e-card from Bigwheels. But there wasn’t any. In fact, Madison didn’t have any mail at all, which was rather depressing, considering that it was summer. Didn’t everyone write on his or her computer as much as she did?
The home page on her favorite website, TweenBlurt.com, announced special summer chat rooms, a what-l-did-for-my-summer-vacation writing contest (Madison was thinking about entering that one), and, of course, “Ask the Blowfish.” This was the advice section of the site. She clicked on a puffy-looking fish swimming around on-screen. When a bubble appeared, she punched in a superimportant question about life. After that, all she had to do was wait for a wise, fishy fortune to appear.
She typed: Will I have a good time at Gramma’s for the Fourth of July?
The fish swam upside down with its answer. You’ve gone overboard.
Madison frowned. Disappointed, she asked the same question again.
The second time, the fish said, Things will go swimmingly.
Madison looked down at Phin, who’d curled up by her fuzzy monkey slippers. He was snoring. “What is this fish talking about, Phinnie?” she asked the dog, as if he’d give her a better answer than a cartoon blowfish. Madison couldn’t imagine how anything at Gramma’s could go “swimmingly.”