Forget Me Not (From the Files of Madison Finn, 21) (4 page)

Mom appeared at the doorway to Madison’s bedroom.

“Did you hear me, Maddie?” Mom asked. “I have dinner downstairs. I’m sorry I was a little later than I expected. We finished setting up at the school. Looks like we can get some interviews and preliminary work done tomorrow without any problems. Isn’t that fantastic?”

Madison shrugged. She got up from her desk and silently closed her laptop.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mom asked, looking genuinely concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”

Madison bent over and picked up Phin and his toy. He was still chewing away on the end of the plastic newspaper toy. It let out a little squeak.

“Good doggy,” Madison said to Phin.

But she still didn’t say anything to Mom.

“Madison. Are you feeling all right?” Mom asked. She had a baffled look on her face.

Madison shrugged again.

“Is this about what happened today at school?” Mom asked.

Madison slinked past Mom into the hallway—still without speaking. By then, Mom had stopped talking, too. They headed into the kitchen, wordless, for the Chinese food.

For the next half hour, the only sounds in the Finn kitchen were the clang of forks (and chopsticks); the gnashing of Phin’s doggy teeth; and the low, slow tick of the oversize clock on the kitchen wall.

Forget Me Not


Rude Awakening:
Everyone around me is ready for their close-ups. But I’m not starstruck—I’m star-stuck. It is impossible to deal with the limelight when I’m feeling as sour as a lemon.


At least it’s quiet sitting up here in the library before classes. Had to come earlier than early with Mom and the film crew, which meant I had to break my boycott. It was ok for five minutes until Mom started lecturing me about appreciating her position and not getting all worked up about things related to her job blah, blah, whatever. I guess the boycott was a dumb idea b/c it didn’t make Mom see my POV at all it just made her mad. But she said we should call a truce. I’m thinking about it.


OMG movie cameras sure make people do weird stuff. Apparently most of the school got in their rush permission slips so they can be filmed. No one is ever that organized about anything, are they??? Of course I didn’t turn one in, I’m such a rebel LOL. Not that it matters since Mom is here 24/7 and everyone knows that I obviously have permission to be a part of this whole terrible experiment.


Teacher alert: Mr. Books just asked me to finish up and get downstairs for the homeroom bell so I better go.


On the way back to homeroom, Madison nearly collided with Ivy. There she was: all dressed up with purple lipstick, nails, and the perfect sweater. Filming had scarcely begun and yet Ivy’s vanity was already on display.

Madison couldn’t help snickering. As Ivy passed by, she flipped her red hair twice and mumbled something nasty that Madison couldn’t quite hear. But it was better not hearing Ivy’s dis. The last thing Madison needed on top of everything else was a full-blown confrontation with the enemy.

All around her, kids talked about the documentary. Fiona, Aimee, and Lindsay waved to Madison from down the hall.

“Over here!” Aimee yelled, motioning to her.

“Do we have regular classes or not? I am so confused,” Lindsay said.

“Last night all I could think about was the film crew,” Aimee said.

“And Julian Lodge,” Fiona giggled.

“You guys! You are so obsessed!” Madison said.

Of course they all laughed, because Madison was right. They
were
a little obsessed.

“I think the boys film later today, but otherwise they—and we—have regular classes,” Madison said. “I saw a notice in the library.”

“I know they’re filming the soccer team later on,” Fiona said. “The coaches asked us to wear warm clothes. We’re gonna go outside to the fields.”

“Too bad it’s not springtime so they could shoot a real game.” Aimee said. “Hey, I wonder if they need any footage of a ballet dancer,” she added, twirling around on her toes.

“Volunteer to dance on camera,” Lindsay suggested. “Maybe they’ll make you the star of the whole show….”

“I tried to tell you there is no star of this video. It’s really not as big a deal as you think it’s going to be,” Madison said.

“Maybe not for you,” Fiona said. “You’re used to all this film crew stuff with your mom. But it’s a new thing for us. It
is
a big deal.”

“Yeah, it’s better than anything that’s happened around here lately,” Lindsay agreed. “Don’t you think, Maddie?”

“Well …” Madison didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t thought about it that way before. The appearance of the film crew had sparked interest and positive energy at school.

“Plus,” Aimee added, “you say it’s only some little film, Maddie, but what if Julian Lodge becomes famous someday and they look back at
all
the things he ever directed and some Hollywood guy sees this and …”

“Yeah, Aim,” Madison cracked. “Like
that’s
going to happen.”

Brrrrrrring!

The bell rang and the girls split up for homeroom and first period. Madison had English. Although Mr. Gibbons’s class dragged a little bit, there was still a palpable excitement in the air, like fizzy bubbles in a glass of soda. Fiona’s, Aimee’s, and Lindsay’s enthusiasm was the norm today. No one seemed to care that the documentary wasn’t a very big deal in the world of movies, or that it would be seen only by a bunch of researchers and school faculty members. Fifteen minutes of fame was fifteen minutes of fame, no matter how it happened.

Eighth and ninth graders were summoned for private interviews all morning. Madison watched them slip past the door, racing to their designated rooms. Madison also saw Principal Bernard stroll past the window, accommodating the film crew and Julian Lodge in their every request. Madison figured it was because Julian was building positive PR for the school. There had to be some good reason. Interview teams made their way through classrooms during morning classes, calling themselves “drop-ins.” Their job was to get real footage of kids interacting in the school setting.

Even though the seventh grade wasn’t yet participating fully, the building was still a scene of pure chaos.

Midway through the day, the boys headed to the lower gymnasium for their group interview. Julian Lodge was in charge of asking questions, and he’d put up a large sign with black letters on the gym door:
BOYS ONLY
. But some of the girls were curious about what was going on, so when Egg, Drew, Hart, Chet, and Dan raced off, Madison and a few others tagged along.

“Wait! Do we have anything interesting to say?” Drew asked everyone, before entering the gym.

“That’s a loaded question,” Lindsay teased.

“I know what I’m saying. I’m gonna do a rap,” Chet announced.

Dan laughed out loud. “Yeah, man. I’m sure that’s just what they’re looking for, some lame rap tune.” As the guys pushed their way through the gym doors, the girls tried to get a peek.

Aimee and Fiona wanted to sneak inside and spy.

None of the girls wanted to go to class—where they really belonged. The foursome pressed their ears up to the gym doors hoping to hear a word or two of what was being said. They could be a few minutes late for class. Who would notice them missing if it were only for a few minutes?

Inside the gym, Julian talked in a loud voice, but Madison couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. The boys laughed. Egg mumbled something. Then Hart said something. A couple of other kids stood up and started yelling. At least, that was what it sounded like.

“What could they possibly be doing in there?” Aimee wondered aloud.

“I think someone just said something about the girls in our class,” Fiona said, pressing even closer to the door. “The voices are all muffled….”

“Excuse me,” a voice growled behind them.

The four girls whipped around. Assistant Principal Goode stood there with her arms crossed. As she frowned, a crease appeared on her forehead. “Where are your hall passes, girls?” she asked.

No one knew what to say.

Mrs. Goode shook her head. “If you don’t get to class in the next four minutes, girls, I’ll be seeing you in detention.”

Madison and Lindsay shot each other a look, grabbed hold of their book bags, and raced down the hall. Aimee and Fiona chased after them.

“Whoa. That was close,” Aimee said.

“What was she so annoyed about?” Madison asked.

“She’s annoyed because school is all messed up this week,” Fiona said.

“We better get to class before someone else catches us and throws us in the school jail,” Lindsay said.

Everyone laughed.

Lindsay trotted off to science class in room 315, with Aimee and Fiona. Madison headed in the opposite direction, for Mr. Danehy’s science class.

Mr. Danehy sat behind his desk at the front of the room, stretching a rubber band between his thumbs. The classroom was half empty, of course, since all of the boys were still downstairs at the gymnasium.

“You’re late, Ms. Finn,” Mr. Danehy grumbled as Madison walked in.

“Um … everyone’s late today, aren’t they?” Madison asked.

“I suppose you are right,” Mr. Danehy said, snapping the rubber band. It flew across the room.

Madison dashed to her seat.

Since there were no boys present for the first part of class, Mr. Danehy decided to make it a free period—sort of. He’d written a series of science brainteasers on the board and asked everyone to figure them out. Normally, he forbade whispering and talking, but today he made an exception. The girls were allowed to work together as lab partners on the brainteasers while Mr. Danehy worked on his grade book and ignored the chatter.

Madison and Ivy copied down the first brainteaser. They stared blankly at the words on the page.

“I don’t feel like working,” Ivy sighed.

Madison wanted to say, “When do you
ever
feel like working?” but instead she just nodded and said “Me neither.”

“Why were you late to class?” Ivy asked.

Madison rolled her eyes. “You wish you knew,” she said. But then she confessed. “A few of us went to spy on the video crew and Julian Lodge.”

“Really? Julian Lodge? Well, that’s surprisingly cool … for you,” Ivy said.

“Not really. We got caught by Mrs. Goode.”

“Bummer. So what did you see?” Ivy asked.

“Not much. Some of the boys were talking, answering questions. I really don’t see why everyone is so into this,” Madison said.

“I know it’s just a dumb documentary, and who really cares about that,” Ivy said, “but I still want to look good. I love cameras.”

“Of course you do,” Madison said.

Ivy batted her eyes for dramatic effect. “Don’t you?”

“No. And I’m not going on that dumb video,” Madison said.

“Huh? What’s the huge deal? Isn’t your mother practically running the whole video shoot? How can
you
get away from being filmed?”

Ivy was right, Madison realized. How would she get out of being filmed when her mother was the one in charge?

All at once, the sinking feeling came back, twice as strong as it had been the day before. With the crazy commotion about the film crew’s arrival and the disruption of classes and the flirting with Hart and the ongoing Mom boycott, Madison had nearly forgotten about the actual camera itself.

Madison Finn could not, under any conditions whatsoever, be filmed.

Just thinking about stepping in front of the lens made her fingertips tingle, and not in a good way. Suddenly, Madison’s face felt hot, and she turned bright pink.

“You can’t get out of this,” Ivy said. “Poor Maddie.”

Madison wrapped her arms around her middle. “I can do anything I want to do,” Madison said.

Just then, the door to the science classroom flew open with a loud crash.

“Yo, Mr. Danehy,” a loud kid named Vito cried. He took his seat up front.

“Yo, Vito,” Mr. Danehy cracked back. He hustled over to the door to make sure that the rest of the boys moved inside quickly.

“Hurry up,” Mr. Danehy scolded. “Enough time lost. Let’s get to our seats, boys.”

As Hart walked inside the room, his palm opened in a wave, and he gave Madison a little grin.

Madison smiled back.

Naturally, Ivy saw it all.

“So! How’s your boyfriend?” Ivy snarled.

Madison’s jaw dropped. Then she blushed and said, smiling, “He’s not my … I can’t believe …”

Ivy laughed a fake laugh. Her nostrils flared. “Maybe the director should film you two,” she said. “As if anyone cares.”

But that only made Madison smile more. There was nothing better than watching Ivy squirm. Even though most of the seventh grade, including Ivy Daly, knew that Madison and Hart were an item, Ivy obviously still had a crush on the boy. She hadn’t given up on him yet, which meant one thing: Madison had to continue to watch her back. When she least expected it, Ivy might try to steal Hart’s heart.

The classroom turned louder than loud with the return of the boys and Mr. Danehy’s booming baritone as he told everyone to sit down. Madison’s eyes were fixed on Hart. She watched him eagerly talking to the kids nearby and wondered what questions the film people had asked him.