by Danika Stone
“No. It sure doesn’t.”
Sarah glanced over at the clock on the fireplace mantel, then clambered from the couch and headed out of the room. She didn’t pause to say good night. (She never did if she fell behind schedule.)
“G’night, Sarah!” Madi called after her.
Madi’s phone vibrated, and she glanced down to see the MadLibs blog had received an anonymous message. Grinning, she popped it opened. Her breath caught.
NEW Message, *anonymous*: 11:05 p.m. EST
Subject: Sixteen Candles Liveblog
That was the worst liveblog you have EVER done. Stop fooling around with Long Duk Dong and RESPOND to the movie! People WAIT for your liveblogs, MadLib. THEY WATCH THEM. The least you could do is make it worth our time. I hope to hell the recap makes up for that piece of shit. SCREW. YOU. MADLIB.
Shocked, Madi jerked her hand back from the screen as if she’d been bitten. She popped open the REPLY button, then paused. Anons meant unless she wanted to air this in front of the entire MadLibs group, she couldn’t answer. In her sophomore year of high school—when Madi had been involved in a completely different group of friends and fandom—she’d had a run-in that had involved months of online harassment. It had only ended when Madi had deleted her entire online profile. That was when she’d made the decision to start up MadLibs, where she could control who could post and which allowed her to remain anonymous.
She reread the post, temper rising. Screw you, troll. With a muttered swear, she hit DELETE. The best thing to do with trolls was to ignore them.
“Stay under your bridge,” she muttered.
* * *
Madi did her best work long past midnight. Though she’d hated taking piano lessons as a child, it had given her an uncanny ability to touch-type. Lit only by the glow of the laptop, her fingers blurred over the keyboard, paragraph after paragraph flowing from her fingertips. Unfortunately, tonight she was deleting as much as she typed.
The troll had thrown off her writing game. She wished now that she’d never read his comment. It preyed on her mind and made her struggle with the flow of her writing. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was being too flirty with Laurent. I was just excited to talk with him. She shoved the thought aside, forcing herself to summarize the plot.
“C’mon,” she muttered. “You can do this.”
Madi was still up at two, when she was hit by the much-delayed urge to eat. Stomach growling, she tiptoed down the stairs. Reaching the kitchen, she discovered her father sitting at the table in the dark, his own laptop open before him, a hazy blue light cast over his face.
“Hey, Dad,” Madi said. “What’re you still doing up?”
Her words faded as a tinny voice—recorded on one side of the planet and relayed back home to New Jersey—echoed through the speakers. Madi’s mother could have been anywhere at all, but all Madi cared about was that she wasn’t here.
“And there’s a great faculty support center. We’re using Moodle, of course, but there’s an entire tech wing devoted to providing access to online students. I’m learning so much, Charles. It’s amazing!”
Madi’s father absently smoothed his mustache. “Good to hear, good to hear.”
“And I’ve been thinking about doing some extra research here, if time allows. They have a great microbiology program. Cutting-edge.”
Charles’s throat bobbed. “Extra research, you say?” (Madi wondered if her mother even noticed how much her prolonged absences affected everyone in the family.)
“If there’s time before I come back.”
“I thought you said you’d be back home by the end of June.”
“Oh, I will. I’m just saying I’d do it if I could fit it in after my sessional work. It’s so wonderful to have access to something like this. I really think it’d be a shame to pass it up. And if I can use the lab while I’m here, why not?”
“Sounds like something you should go for,” Charles said. His smile dimmed. “Like you said, Oxford’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“I know, right? And now that the girls are settled with the change—”
“We’re hardly settled,” Madi interrupted. She stepped out of the shadows, moving behind her father so she could see the screen. The room behind her mother was a yellow splash of sunshine. Outside the window, golden stone buildings rose from a lush green landscape, a few early morning students moving like ants on the quad. It looked like Hogwarts.
Her mother’s face rippled in shock as Madi came into view. “Madi. I didn’t realize you were still up.”
“I did another rewatch tonight. I’m working on the post now.”
“That’s nice. What movie?”
“Sixteen Candles. I’m on an ’80s theme. You’d like these ones.” Madi’s tone sharpened. “Too bad you’re not around to join in.”
“I don’t really have time for rewatches. I’m still setting up my course work.”
“Of course you are.”
Next to Madi, her father shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Maybe we should…” Charles began.
“You’re keeping up with your schoolwork?” Madi’s mother asked.
“You’ve been gone less than a week, Mom. My grades are fine.”
“Glad to hear it. So … things are good with you, Madi?”
Madi grimaced rather than answer.
There was a lengthy pause as her mother’s expression grew wary. “Did…” Her voice faltered. “Did Sarah watch the movie with you tonight?”
“Yeah, she did.” Madi’s hands rose to her hips. “You could talk to Sarah about it if you wanted to. I’m sure she’d be happy to discuss it. Her light was on when I came downstairs,” Madi lied. “She might even be awake.”
Behind her, Madi’s father made an uneasy sound like he’d tried to clear his throat but had choked in the process.
“It’s a bit late for a call,” her mother said. “Let her sleep.”
“It’s no problem. I don’t mind waking her.”
“I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I wouldn’t want to upset her unnecessarily.”
“Of course you don’t. Not like you’ve ever done that before.”
“Well, then,” Charles said. “I think we should probably finish up.” He nodded to Madi. “If you could give me a few minutes alone with your mother, I’d like to say good night.”
“Fine. Give me a second.”
“Good night,” her mother said.
Madi turned away from the screen without answering. She rifled through the cupboard for a granola bar and a juice box, and headed out of the kitchen. She wanted to rage at her mother, but there was no point. And Madi’s father was not going to talk about it. Charles Nakama was everyone’s friend, and it wasn’t just because of his semicelebrity status writing “Down Home” for the Tri-State Herald. He simply hated conflict.
If there was one truth about the Nakama family, it was that they kept private family matters private. This rule had been drilled into Madi since childhood, and she knew talking to anyone about the latest upheaval would infuriate her parents like nothing else. Even the few friends she kept in contact with from her first two years of high school were off-limits for any sort of venting.
Temper bubbling, she locked herself in her room and returned to the Word document. She reread it once. She did a spell-check. She read it again. Seething with annoyance, Madi could not make the words come. After a moment, she pulled out her phone and tapped in a message. Laurent wouldn’t get it until morning, but she needed to tell someone. She felt like her chest was about to explode.
my whole family life is fake. it’s all a LIE!
what happened?
OMG—did my text wake u?! I’M SORRY!!!
ha-ha! no, you didn’t wake me up. i was already awake.
why? do u have insomnia?
no. i sleep. i was just online a minute ago.
don’t u have school tomorrow—i mean today?
i do.
but it’s like t
wo in the morning
aha! but it’s 8:00 a.m. in france! i set my alarm so i can talk to my friends before they go to school. then I go back to bed again.
aw … that’s sad
why? think about it. i’m here in ny, but when I make a point of chatting each morning it’s like i’m home, too. i get my own hours (when they're asleep), and their time, too.
i guess so
besides, who would i talk to if i got lonely here?
u could always talk to me
really?
yeah, laurent, u could
maybe i will. so tell me about this lie. is this related to the “family drama” from before?
the one and only
what happened? (only tell me if you want to. i’m not prying.)
i’m the one who texted u at 2:00 a.m. ur off the hook. promise.
so what was it this time?
my mom called home. we had a disagreement
oh no.
that wasn’t the only thing, though. i was already in a pissy mood. i got some anon hate on the madlibs blog
you did? but why?!
i don’t know. i guess the anon didn’t think i was on my a-game for liveblogging. trolls bug me!
so respond to him. air the matter.
not a chance
why not?
bc that feeds them
it does?
sadly, yes. i’ve dealt with trolls before. a few years ago i got targeted
targeted? (i don’t understand.)
not everyone appreciates enthusiasm & there was a lot of anon hate going on. it was only 1 or 2 people (i think) but it got so bad i finally just left
that’s sad, madi. you love fandom.
i do. it made me kind of paranoid about trusting people. (it’s part of the reason i prefer online school.) i like NOT having to deal with people. u know?
um, no. but I hear what you’re saying.
it sounds weird, i know. i’m not JUST a shut-in. LOL i met you in RL, didn’t I?
you did—thank you and i’m glad you came out, BTW. it’s good to meet new people. get a sense of who they are.
strangers freak me out
did I freak you out?
at first maybe? *grins* i don’t know. i was a little distracted by you when we first skyped
distracted, hmmm…? and how about once you met me? did i pass your face-to-face test?
i’m warming up to u
good. i’ll keep warming myself up to you, too.
that sounds … LOL worse than i think you mean it, laurent
maybe. hard to tell if you’re not face-to-face. (i’d be happy to warm you up then.)
LOL stop! srsly
why? X 1000000
bc i keep laughing and my dad’s going to wonder what’s going on up here
he wouldn’t wonder if I was really there.
LOLOL—stop, seriously! he’s going to think i’m looking at porn or something
sorry. did I take the joke too far?
no—it’s good. i just need to keep it down
i’ll save teasing you for another time, then.
another late-night chat?
definitely. and i hate to say this, but now i should go. it’s 8:30 a.m. france time, 2:30 a.m. in nyc, and i have school in a few hours. ugh. (i wish i didn’t, but i do.)
yes, i know, but i’m glad u were awake
me, too.
good night
bonne nuit, madi. text me tomorrow night if you’re up.
i will. now go to sleep. it’s WAY past your bedtime
ZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …
7
“Don’t ever invite a vampire into your house, you silly boy. It renders you powerless.”
(The Lost Boys, 1987)
Online school was heaven. After more than a decade of stuffy classrooms and classmates whose highest cognitive skills seemed to be diverting their teachers off task, Madi had found her niche. Two years previous, she’d taken a single class at OMA—the online branch of Millburn Academy—to boost her freshman math grade. What she’d discovered was a completely unique way of learning.
Madi set her own schedule, and the teachers facilitated her learning. The students at OMA could finish a class as slowly (or quickly) as they were capable. The courses were broken into modules, with a focus on large projects. Madi loved it. By the end of her first OMA math class, her grade had jumped from an acceptable B- to an A+, but more important, she’d finally understood what she was being taught. There were no loudmouths to interrupt her learning. Madi had known that online schooling was for her.
The trick had been convincing her parents of the same thing.
In an unpleasant twist of fate, Sarah’s first semester of high school and her mother’s first out-of-state fellowship had coincided, resulting in chaos. Madi, who was struggling to balance her sophomore classes with family stress, pointed out that if she attended OMA rather than regular classes at Millburn Academy, she could drop her sister off in the morning and pick her up after school. (The fact that Madi was able to complete her schoolwork, without distraction, in half the time it’d taken while sitting in a classroom, was an added bonus.) Overwhelmed by competing work/research loads and Sarah’s needs, Madi’s parents agreed. So far, it was a balance that worked.
Today, Madi arrived at Millburn Academy mere minutes before the bell. With a relieved sigh, she slumped against the lockers. Online school gave her a stress-free high school schedule, but her MadLibs all-nighters were starting to catch up with her. She wobbled in place, half-asleep, until the sound of Mr. Wattley’s door banging open jarred her awake.
Sarah rushed down the school hallway, leaving Madi staring after her.
“Sarah?” she called. “You’re going the wrong way.”
Her sister’s steps barely slowed. “Got to study today.”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
Madi reached her sister’s side, falling into step next to her.
“There’s a physics test next Wednesday,” Sarah continued. “I want to review, and Robbie’s supervising a tutoring session tonight.”
“Robbie?”
“Robbie Sullivan. Mr. Wattley’s got him leading a study group for freshmen.”
Madi stifled a yawn behind her hand just as the final bell rang. “So, where’s this study group meeting?”
“The library.” Torrents of students poured from open doors and Sarah hunched her shoulders, sidling to the edge of the hallway. “Come pick me up there.”
Most days they were out of the building by this point—another part of Sarah’s schedule—but today they were caught in the crowd. Madi’s gaze darted as her sister pushed grimly onward.
“Wait!” Madi called. “The library at the school, or the one downtown?! Where am I supposed to get you?”
Her sister slowed as a red-haired boy walked out of the open door of a classroom. “Is the study group still on today?” Sarah asked.
“You bet.” He waved. “Hey, Madi.”
She gave him a weak smile. It was the boy from the hallway. Seeing him, a memory of Robbie borrowing her notes in tenth-grade AP History floated to mind, the name and face clicking into place. She’d barely given him a second thought in the years between.
“You coming to the study group, too?” he asked.
Two steps behind Robbie, a black-haired senior in a death-metal T-shirt slouched against the doorway, waiting to get through. He caught Madi’s eyes and shot her a seething glare.
“You looking at something?!” he snarled.
She blinked in shock. What did I ever do to him?
“Madi?” Robbie prompted.
“Don’t think so,” she said, distracted. “I’ve already passed physics.” She tapped her sister’s shoulder. “What time do you need me to pick you up?”
“If we start studying right away, then we should be done by—”
“Move it, Sarah!” The nameless angry teen shoved between the t
wo sisters, grunting: “Jeez! Get outta the way, cows!”
“Jerk!” Sarah glared at the receding figure of the black-haired boy as he disappeared into the crowd. This is why I hated high school, Madi thought. This is why I left.
“I could walk Sarah home after I’m done with tutoring,” Robbie offered. “No problem.”
“I don’t know if—”
“No,” Sarah snapped. “Madi always picks me up. The public library closes at five. I’ll be waiting outside the doors for you at four thirty.”
“The public library?” Madi’s shoulder dropped. That was even farther than the school.
“Sure you don’t want to hang out with us?” Robbie asked. “It’s a small group, mostly one-on-one review. I wouldn’t mind you being there.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass. I hardly slept last night, and I want to post my next blog when I get home.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “You have a blog?”
“Er … yeah.”
“Cool! What’s it about?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Just … stuff,” Madi said lamely. She nodded to Sarah. “Four thirty, then. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Got it.”
“You have your phone if I’m late or something?”
Sarah’s expression rippled into concern. “Are you going someplace? Are you leaving?”
“No, I’m just saying in case someth—”
“Where are you going, Madi?!”
“I’m not going anywhere, but just in case something happens, I want you to be able to text me.”
Sarah’s lip quivered. “Madi…”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She sighed. “I’ll be there.”
Sarah clutched her arm. “Four thirty. Promise?”
“Promise.”
And it wasn’t until Madi was back on the street, lumbering home, that she thought about how exhausted that promise always made her.
* * *
Heavy-lidded, Madi sprawled across her bed, reading through the blog post, her mind struggling to make sense of it. The truth was, she wanted a nap, but she couldn’t take one. Sarah was expecting her. Instead Madi focused on her upcoming post, braiding a long string of hair then tugging it apart as she reread the words. This was the first MadLib of the ’80s movies theme, and she wasn’t sure it did what she wanted. She could change it. Lie. But that had never been the point of the blog.