by Laura Dower
Fiona smacked him on the back. “Oh, I forgot. You’re the expert, aren’t you, worm?”
Madison glanced around. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw a cluster of people coming around the opposite side of the school. Her sinking feeling grew stronger and stronger … like heartburn and a stomachache and butterflies all rolled into one.
It was the film crew; they lugged video cameras, light stands, and sound equipment. One man carried a large clipboard. He wore dark, square sunglasses (even though it wasn’t particularly sunny outside), a polka-dot tie, a navy jacket, and blue jeans that looked as if they’d been ironed.
“Look! There are the cameras!” Fiona said.
“Maddie … does this have anything to do with your mom?” Aimee said with a grin.
“Why did you say that?” Madison asked. She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t go there.”
“Maddie,” Aimee said. “Come on. Spill it. You know something.”
“Well, I think maybe they have something to do with this documentary my mom is making….” Madison said.
“Cool!” Aimee blurted.
“A documentary? About us?” Fiona squealed.
Having spied the film crew heading in to the school, Egg, Chet, and the others rushed back over toward Madison and her friends.
“Let me at ’em! I’m ready for my close-up!” Chet cried.
“You wish!” Egg said.
Hart and Dan laughed.
Fiona went over and smacked Chet on the back again. “Watch out. You get too close up and you’ll break the cameras.”
Although everyone desperately wanted to follow (and spy on) the film crew, it was getting late and after-school activities had already gotten under way. The match at Da Vinci had been canceled, but the team was due for a meeting with the coach in the locker room. Fiona had soccer practice. Aimee had dance class. Madison was the only one without any major after-school commitment. That left her heading home alone. Her friends agreed to e-mail one another later that night.
The walk back home to Blueberry Street took less time than usual. It was as if Madison had little motors on her sneakers. As she walked up on to the porch, Madison heard her pug, Phin, inside, barking. She opened the door, and Phin practically leaped into her arms, scratchy little nails and all. Madison kissed him on the head and then put him down on the hall floor.
“Mom? Mom! Are you home?” Madison called out. “Mom, I need to talk to you … right now.”
“Hey, honey bear. What’s all the fuss?” Mom asked, appearing in the doorway to her office, a room located just off the entry hall and living room.
“Mom, you said you’d be filming at Rigby tomorrow,” Madison said.
“Oh, yes,” Mom said. “The plan changed.”
“What?” Madison threw up her hands.
“We’ll be shooting the interviews at Far Hills now.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Madison cried.
“No,” Mom said. “Look, Maddie, you rushed right out of here this morning to meet up with Aimee and …”
“Mo-o-o-o-o-om!” Madison groaned.
“The other middle school’s shooting schedule fell through, and we were in a pinch, so I phoned Far Hills. Right away they said we could use the school. Principal Bernard was very gracious. He said that we could stay for a week or more, as long as we didn’t disrupt classes too much. He gave us permission to interview willing members of the student body—”
“My student body?” Madison asked. She paused dramatically. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“But it’s so perfect!” Mom said. “For one thing, your school is an ideal location for the filming. You have bright classrooms and a terrific library for a backdrop. And the outside yard is just right….”
“Just right for what?” Madison asked. She collapsed onto the couch, her head in her hands. “Just right for embarrassing me more than anything else in my life?”
“Embarrassing you? I don’t understand,” Mom said.
“Of course you don’t,” Madison said sharply.
“Maddie, don’t take that tone with me.”
Madison bit her lip. “How could you have chosen my school as a backup site for your project?” she asked, trying to sound more disappointed than annoyed. “Why didn’t you ask me first?”
“I have to ask your permission?” Mom asked.
“Well …” Madison stammered. “Yes. It is my school.”
“Maddie,” Mom explained. “This really doesn’t have to be a big deal. The crew will only be there for a week or so.”
“Will you be there?”
“Not much. I’ve got paperwork and other tasks to occupy my time. I’ll only be there to check in, once in a blue moon—”
“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Madison wailed. “You’re not leveling with me, are you, Mom? You always show up at your shoots. I know you’ll be there all the time, and so will I, and it will just be …”
“No, really, this one is different, Maddie,” Mom said. “As far as I know, I won’t be as involved. It’s the director’s show, not mine.”
“I guarantee that with you in school every day, this movie will become the most mortifying experience of my life,” Madison insisted.
Mom got very, very quiet.
“I didn’t know you would feel this way, Maddie,” Mom said, sounding contrite. “But I promise I won’t get in your way.”
Phin jumped on to the sofa, tongue wagging. He licked Madison as if he were playing some kind of game. But Madison was not playing any game.
“It’s all over,” Madison said.
“Really, Maddie. You don’t have to be so dramatic about all this,” Mom said, reaching out to touch Madison’s shoulder.
“Oh, Mom,” Madison cried. She pulled away in a huff. Madison’s breath came in fits and starts, and she closed her eyes tightly to force herself to slow down. She couldn’t let herself hyperventilate.
In her mind, Madison had whirling visions of being chased by—and running away from—a camera crew. Mom was out in front with the huge, Day-Glo spotlights. And when she wasn’t being hounded by the lights and the soundmen, she was dodging the lenses of miniature cameras that appeared inside her locker, inside the bathroom stalls, and everywhere else she went.
How could Madison possibly endure the presence of a film crew at her school, filming her and her friends and her longtime crush? And worst of all, how could she endure a film crew led by her own mother?
She looked at her mother and then exploded with a rush of emotion. “Mom, this is like my worst nightmare come to life! You know I have stage fright! You know I can’t do this!”
Mom stood there, flabbergasted. She tried to apologize, but Madison wasn’t listening. When it came to Budge Films and Mom’s job, Madison didn’t want to listen to anything Mom had to say.
For the past few years, Mom’s film job had caused conflict between the two of them. Of course, Madison had been proud of Mom’s awards and other successes. But deep down, Madison also believed that Mom’s constant work and travel had brought on the Big D. The way Madison saw it, talk of divorce had only started when Mom had started to become more successful as a film producer. Madison loved knowing that her mom was a mover and shaker at Budge Films, but she hated the times when there wasn’t enough of Mom to go around.
“Are you even listening to me?” Mom asked. Madison had turned on the mute button, and Mom knew it.
“I’m out of here,” Madison blurted out. She nearly knocked Phin off the sofa as she grabbed her bag and headed upstairs to her room.
Mom quickly tried to make peace by hugging her, but Madison slipped by, refusing. Phin followed close behind.
Once inside her bedroom, Madison settled back on to the assortment of colored cotton pillows and took Phin into her arms for a little doggy comfort. But after a few seconds, he got squirmy and wriggled loose from her grip. That was when Madison flipped over, pulled out her laptop, and booted up.
Brrrrrrrring brrrrong!
“Maddie! Someone’s at the door for you!” Mom called out.
Madison crept out to the top of the stairs. Aimee stood there, looking up with a smirk on her face and a large bag slung over her shoulder.
“Up here, Aim,” Madison called out.
“Thanks, Mrs. Finn,” Aimee said. She turned away from Mom and rushed up the stairs.
“What are you doing here?” Madison asked.
“Well, I should totally be home doing my math homework right now, Maddie,” Aimee said. “But when I was on my way back from dance class, I got the funniest idea, and I knew I just had to come over to your place.”
“Funny?” Madison grinned with relief. “What?” she asked. “Please tell me. I need a good laugh.”
Aimee reached inside the tote bag she had on her shoulder and produced a shiny new tablet.
“Is that what I think it is? Aim, are you kidding?” Madison asked.
“Nope,” Aimee said, grinning. She held it up in front of Madison’s face. “Dad said I could borrow it and he downloaded this Film Star app for us, too! We better rehearse our poses before the real film crew gets involved. Practice makes perfect, right?”
“Perfect is overrated,” Madison said, holding her hands up in front of the tablet camera so Aimee couldn’t film her.
“Come on, Maddie,” Aimee gushed. “Don’t be such a spoilsport. Smile for the camera. Pucker up and pretend I’m Hart Jones.”
“Hey!” Madison squealed. She looked away. “You’re so mean!”
Aimee gazed at the screen. “But you are soooo beautiful. Be a movie star, Maddie! Come on. At least pretend.”
“Ugh,” Madison groaned. “I don’t feel like it.”
Madison knew Aimee meant well, and she wanted to have a good laugh, but at the same time, she was still dealing with her anger at Mom. Smiling for the camera felt wrong right now.
Aimee tapped the video button anyway, undeterred by Madison’s grumpy demeanor. She turned the camera toward Phinnie instead of Madison. The pug pranced around—a real ham—as if he knew he was being filmed. He planted his backside on the carpet, scratched at it with his nails, and let out a howl.
Aimee cracked up. She fiddled with the settings so Phin morphed into a super-sized pug and then so there were ten Phins instead of one. The Film Star app had all sorts of cool tricks. “Way to go, Phin! At least you know how to smile for the camera.”
“Aim …,” Madison whined. “Fine! I’ll do it. What do I do?”
“Pretend I’m Hart. Now, go!”
“Mmmwah! Smooch! Is that what you want?” Madison stuck out her tongue.
“Oh, Maddie,” Aimee clicked the camera off. “You will never win an Academy Award for that,” she joked.
Madison shook her head and sighed. She didn’t want to win any awards. The only thing Madison Francesca Finn wanted was to get as far away from cameras, Mom, and FHJH as possible.
If only she had somewhere to run.
Chapter 2
THE WELL-COIFED DIRECTOR OF THE junior-high-school documentary, Julian Lodge, had all the girls in the seventh, eighth, and ninth grades staring when he stood up to present the film team during Tuesday morning’s assembly.
Fiona said it best. “Now he looks like a genuine movie star,” she sighed.
Madison, Fiona, Aimee, and their friend Lindsay Frost sat together in the middle of the room. A row away, Egg, Chet, Drew, Hart, and Dan Ginsburg sat together.
“That guy is so …” Aimee stammered.
“Lame,” Egg said. The other boys grumbled.
Madison had to agree, at least a little bit, with Fiona. Julian Lodge was kind of cute. He looked as if he were the one who should be in front of the camera. Actually, he also looked like what Madison imagined Hart Jones might look like as a grown-up. Both had the same buzz-cut hair and dark-framed eyeglasses.
After his introduction, Julian perched on a tall stool in front of the microphone, holding a thick notebook wrapped in rubber bands.
“He looks like he’s a nice person, too,” Lindsay said.
“Are we crazy?” Aimee said. “I mean, that dude is at least thirty. He’s positively ancient.”
“Old enough to be my dad,” Lindsay chuckled.
Fiona and Madison laughed along with her.
FHJH teachers paraded up and down the aisles, passing out flyers in different colors. As they moved from row to row, the volume in the auditorium grew louder. Madison overheard snippets of other conversations; everyone seemed to be talking about the video. Julian Lodge had put the room under some kind of magic spell.
Madison wasn’t sure what to think about the whole scene. After the conversation with Mom the night before, she had everything invested in not liking anything about the film project, including the director—even if he was cute.
At some point, Principal Bernard and Assistant Principal Goode went onto the stage to quiet everyone back down. But no sooner had they taken over the microphone than a ninth grader with long, shaggy brown hair stood up, waving his arms, holding one of the flyers. Madison recognized him immediately as Larry Dooray, legendary at FHJH for causing trouble during sporting events and school plays. One time he’d stripped off his shirt during a junior varsity basketball game to reveal the school colors and the school crest painted on his stomach. Dooray didn’t seem to mind being a school punch line.
“Uh … I know you said before,” Larry stammered. “But I … uh … what is this film being used for again? I wasn’t really listening.”
The room burst into laughter.
Principal Bernard tapped the microphone. “Okay, Mr. Dooray,” he said. “Take your seat, please. And I’ll see you in my office fifth period.”
The room hissed with more laughter as Larry sat back down.
“Way to go, Larry,” another ninth-grade boy shouted, fist raised in the air.
Madison and her friends giggled so hard that some of the boys snorted. Madison had never seen the student body so pumped up, at least not within recent memory.
After a few more moments of confusion, Principal Bernard finally got the order and quiet he was looking for. He handed the microphone to Julian.
Julian’s voice sliced through the noise in the auditorium. Everyone stopped whispering. All the students wanted—no, needed—to know what part they were going to be playing in the great documentary-film experiment.
“Before we get into the film schedules and all that,” Julian said, “I think it’s a great idea if we talk a little bit about why we’re here. After all, we were scheduled to go to another school for interviews and filming, but those plans changed at the last minute just last week.”
Madison felt a lump in her throat. Aimee elbowed her in the side. Fiona giggled. Lindsay covered her mouth. They all knew what was coming next.
Oh, no. Please don’t say it….
“Thanks to the efforts of our executive producer, Francine Finn, and her daughter, Madison Finn,” Julian said, peering out into the crowd. “Where are you, Miss Finn?”
Madison got a heavy feeling in her gut. Was everyone staring? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hart turn. She couldn’t look at him—or anyone—just then. She wished her seat had an escape hatch. Thank goodness there was no spotlight beaming on to her head. That would have made things much worse.
“Getting back to my point,” Julian continued, waving to Madison once he located her. “The main reason we are here is to ask you kids a series of questions about school life. We’ll film you when we do it, and the footage from those interviews will be reviewed and edited. Some parts of the interviews will appear in a short film for an educational conference next spring.”
“So this isn’t for movie theaters?” some kid called out from the back of the auditorium.
Julian shook his head and laughed. “I’m afraid not. This is really for a very small audience—but an important one. Everything you have to tell us is being compiled for the film and a book.”
“Could you tell us anything more about the project
and the book?” Assistant Principal Goode asked.
“Let’s see. We’re working with a special grant to produce a survey of junior-high-school behavior across the country. Your school is just one of several places where we’re stopping to film. Your input is invaluable. You won’t see your face or name at the multiplex, but you’ll be an anonymous resource in a major study of kids your age.”
Out in the audience, Egg yawned. “What a bore,” he mumbled.
Aimee batted him on the head. “What do you know? All you care about is video games.”
Madison and the others—including a few of the boys—snickered.
“Well, that seems to cover the basics. Thank you, Mr. Lodge,” Principal Bernard said, moving to the microphone as Julian stepped back. “But, students, let’s remember that you cannot participate and your footage will not be used unless your parents sign the proper release.”
The sound of shuffling paper was deafening as kids searched for their permission slips among the many flyers that had been passed around.
“Okay, students,” Principal Bernard said. “Does everyone have a schedule?”
The sound of shuffling got even louder.
“Oh, no,” Madison groaned. “They grouped us alphabetically, like in homeroom….”
Alphabetical grouping meant that Madison would probably end up filming with her nemesis, Poison Ivy Daly. Why did they always get grouped together, even though the first initial of their names wasn’t the same?
“Look what it says here,” Lindsay said. “Filming will take place in either the school media lab or the cafeteria. How boring! I was kind of hoping they’d film us at the beach or something.”
“Or Paris!” Fiona joked.
“Get real,” Drew said.
“Hey, Maddie, we’re not in any of the same film groups,” Hart said.
Everyone stopped for a moment when Hart said that. Although it was common knowledge that he and Madison were now “in like,” it was still a big deal whenever he paid any kind of special attention to Madison—like now. Madison was only just getting used to it.
“Oh, really?” Madison said, and looked at her feet.
Up on stage, Principal Bernard paced, tugging at his collar while Julian Lodge continued to answer students’ questions. After a very drawn out question-and-answer session, Assembly was finally dismissed.