On the Case (From the Files of Madison Finn, 17) (15 page)

: what did Fiona tell u


: she said u guys r the perfect couple


: and what do u say


: wanna come over for a sleepover right now


: tonight? But it’s almost 8


: ask ur mom


: ok I’ll ask her


: hurry up if u get here by 830 we can watch Crime Time


: no way I’m over that show


: ok we can do other stuff and just talk I really want to hear what happened with Hart and Mr. O and all that


: ok well I better go then


: hurry up


: i’ll call if mom says no


: she won’t


: c u soon : LY4E


Madison logged off so she could throw her pajamas into a bag. She was positive Mom would let her go over to Aimee’s. They’d been sleeping over at each other’s houses their whole lives.

Somehow, however, that night’s sleepover felt a little different for Madison.

That night, Madison had gotten her friend back when she needed her most of all. And she wasn’t going to let go, not for
Crime Time
or any mystery.

This time, all the evidence pointed to one very clear thing: she and Aimee were going to remain friends for a long time.

I use my laptop for practically everything these days, but it was truly indispensable for trying to solve mysteries.
Use a computer document to make lists and keep track of pals and enemies.
My own personal Crime Time files really helped me keep up with all the facts of the case, especially when the facts kept changing! I could track all of my suspects with a click of the key, and THAT was very cool. I wonder how much Major DeMille uses his laptop!

Visit Madison online at the author’s page:
www.lauradower.com

Turn the page to continue reading from Laura Dower’s From the Files of Madison Finn series

“R
EADY, AIM,
FIRE
!”

Madison jumped out of the way just in time to see a snowball go whizzing past her earmuffs. It hit one of Madison’s BFFs, Fiona Waters, instead of her.

“Ooof!” Fiona cried, pretending to be wounded. She collapsed onto the snowy ground, hands on her chest, laughing.

“Good one!” Chet Waters said, giving Walter “Egg” Diaz a high five. Chet was Fiona’s twin brother. All afternoon he’d been aiming for his sister, but Egg was the one who had finally struck the target.

“I can’t believe it was you who threw it!” Fiona said as she stood up and brushed the snow off her grape-colored corduroys.

Aimee Gillespie laughed, too. “Maybe Egg doesn’t like you so much after all.”

Splooooch!

Another one of Egg’s snowballs scored a direct hit, on Aimee this time. The entire front of her parka was soaked.

Chet doubled over with laughter. If this was a snowball match of guys versus girls, there was no question who was winning. So far.

“You’d better run! You’re in trouble, Egg,” Hart Jones said to his friend. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Aimee’s going to get you for—”

Splaaaat!

Hart groaned. Now he’d been hit in the face with a very cold ball of snow. He wiped off his chin and turned around to see who had thrown it.

Madison jumped into the air with glee. “Gotcha, Hart!” she said with a big grin. She pumped her arm as if to show off a muscle, which of course was invisible underneath her winter coat. “Maybe I should try out for the softball team?” she asked, still giggling.

Hart leaned over and picked up a fistful of snow. “Don’t move,” he warned Madison, pulling his arm back like a major-league pitcher.

That was when snowball chaos broke out.

Hart threw another snowball at Madison, who ran for cover behind a tree. Chet fired three snowballs in a row at his sister, narrowly missing her each time. Egg wasn’t even making snowballs anymore. He just chucked clumps of snow wherever he could, including the side of the house. Fiona and Aimee tried running away, but they tripped over themselves in the snow and fell to the ground, laughing uncontrollably.

The six friends had come over to Aimee’s backyard after school to hang out. Winter break was coming soon, and no one felt much like doing homework or taking school seriously.

“Hot chocolate!” Mrs. Gillespie called out from the kitchen door.

Aimee threw her arms into the air. “Truce!” she said, so that everyone would stop the snowball fight. “Hot cocoa!”

The friends shuffled through the snow and ice toward the house. They peeled off layers of wet clothes and their jackets, gloves, and socks inside the back entryway. Then they all planted themselves somewhere on one of the two huge, tattered sofas in Aimee’s basement—boys on one sofa, girls on the other. Mrs. Gillespie brought down cups of steaming hot chocolate.

“Your cheeks are so red,” Hart said to Madison.

Naturally, she felt them get even redder when he pointed that out. But they weren’t hot; they felt like ice cubes.

“Hey, this is even better than Mom’s special recipe,” Chet said to Fiona as he took another sip of hot chocolate.

Fiona blew on hers. “You’re right,” she said to her brother. “Thanks for having us over, Aim. This is a great time. I love snowy days like this.”

Egg stood up and surveyed the bookshelves in the Gillespie basement. “What are all these?” he said, pointing to a large collection of record albums against one wall.

Aimee shrugged. “My dad collected those. He has this huge collection of eighties music. He says they’re worth something. But I don’t see the point. We can’t even play them anymore.”

Egg lifted up a few album covers. On one record was a photo of some odd-looking band members with red plastic plant pots upside down on their heads. The band was called Devo. Another album was called
Tears for Fears.
“He listens to
this
?” Egg asked. “What kind of a band name is A Flock of Seagulls?”

“When are you guys leaving for California?” Hart asked Fiona and Chet. Before living in Far Hills, Fiona and Chet’s family had lived in California. They were flying back that week for a family visit.

“We’re leaving after the big hockey match,” Fiona said. “When is that again?”

“You forgot already? I told you it’s on Sunday,” Chet said to Fiona.

“Gee, I’m sorry!” Fiona cracked. “What? Do you expect me to remember everything?”

“Yeah!” Egg said. He and Fiona had been “going out” for a little while, but sometimes they talked to each other as if they’d been together forever.

“Is next week’s hockey match really all that important?” Aimee asked.

Hart clutched his chest as if she’d just shot him with a dart. “Are you kidding me?” he said.

Egg gasped, too. “Yeah! Are you kidding us?”

“All hockey games are important, Aim,” Chet said. “Not that you, Maddie, or my sister would ever show up to watch us play.”

“Good one!” Egg said. The three boys laughed.

The truth was that Aimee, Madison, and Fiona
had
gone to a few hockey games—and practices, too. Fiona went because her brother was on the team and because she wanted to see Egg in slap-shot action. Madison went to ogle Hart in his ice skates. And Aimee went whenever she didn’t have dance practice, because Fiona and Madison were there.

“Actually,” Hart said. “Since we all have our skates with us, maybe we should head over to the lake and practice a little.”

“That’s a killer idea!” Egg said, jumping up from the couch. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” Chet repeated, putting down his now-empty mug.

“You guys, it’s going to be dark in a half hour,” Fiona said. “Chet, Mom will kill you if you’re over at the lake when it gets too late.”

Chet shrugged. “She won’t
kill
me. She’ll yell. Whatever.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “I am not sticking up for you.”

“Like he cares,” Egg said.

Fiona crossed her arms and pouted at Egg. The boys collected their semidry coats from Mrs. Gillespie, booted up, and headed out the back door again.

“See you tomorrow, ’kay?” Egg said to Fiona.

She managed a small smile. “Fine,” she whispered.

After the boys had left, Madison collapsed back onto one of the sofas with a sigh.

“I have an announcement to make,” Madison said. “This is going to be the most boring winter break in the history of the world.”

“Why?” Fiona asked.

“I don’t want to hang out in Far Hills doing nothing but watch
them
play hockey,” Madison complained.

Aimee nodded. “I wish I were going somewhere exciting, like you, Fiona,” she said. “You’re so lucky to go back to California on school vacations. Sun, surf, cute skater boys…”

“Yeah,” Fiona said. “But
you
try flying across the country sitting next to my brother!”

Aimee and Madison chuckled.

“I just wish I didn’t have to work at my dad’s bookstore,” Aimee said. “He makes me shelve books
for hours.
And after that I have to clear tables in the Cyber Cafe. Isn’t there some kind of child-labor law about that?”

“I thought you liked working at the store,” Fiona said.

“I did when it was the Christmas rush. But that’s because Ben Buckley kept coming in to see me,” Aimee said with a grin. “He must have brought me fifteen candy canes. That was so nice.”

Ben was Aimee’s seventh-grade super crush and the smartest guy in their class, hands down.

Aimee stood up from the sofa. “What are we sitting around down here for? Let’s go up to my room. Mom just got me this all-natural makeup kit she saw in a health-food store. It smells nice. Let’s give each other minimakeovers.”

“Healthy makeup? What is it made from—tofu?” Fiona giggled. “Your mom is a health nut, Aim.”

“You’re just figuring this out?” Madison said.

They made a pit stop in the kitchen on the way up to Aimee’s room, placed their empty cocoa mugs in the sink, and grabbed a bag of whole-wheat pretzels.

Aimee’s room was a disaster zone. Pink ballet gear had been thrown into every corner of the room. A pair of toe shoes was hanging from the dresser knobs. Across her bed were a few well-worn copies of
En Pointe,
a ballet magazine she’d borrowed from the studio where she took lessons.

“What’s
this
?” Madison asked. She held up a letter printed on bright yellow paper that she’d found on the floor.

“Oh, you can throw that out,” Aimee said. “It’s just a dumb chain letter someone in my ballet class gave to me.”

“What
?” Madison exclaimed. “There is no such thing as a dumb chain letter.”

Fiona giggled. “Maddie, you’re the most superstitious person I know.”

“Just toss the letter in the trash, Maddie,” Aimee said again.

Madison clutched the letter to her chest. “Aimee, did you even read what this says? It says here that if you don’t send this letter to five other people, then you will have five years of bad luck. You don’t want five
years
of bad luck, do you? That would mean you’d have bad luck through your entire years of junior high and high school.”

“Oh, Maddie,” Aimee scoffed. “Give me a break. I don’t believe in bad luck. That’s just some kind of scam.”

Madison wouldn’t give the letter back to Aimee. “We have to send it to someone.”

“I know what we could do,” Fiona said. “Let’s leave a copy in Ivy Daly’s locker.”

The three BFFs laughed and crouched down on the floor together, sitting knee to knee. Ivy was their number-one enemy. They called her Poison Ivy. The way Fiona figured it, if there was bad luck to be had… why not give it to the enemy?

“That’s perfect!” Madison said. “Maybe passing Ivy the letter means she will get cursed, and then she’ll get five years of bad luck.”

“Yeah,” Aimee said. “And then she’ll stop muscling in on Hart.”

“What are you talking about?” Madison said.

“Hart,” Fiona said. “Your Hart.”

“Well, I don’t know about Hart these days…” Madison said, her voice trailing off.

“What?” Aimee said. “Are we talking about the same Hart who you were just flirting with in my yard and my house?”