Play It Again (2 page)

Madison decided her online keypal might know what to do. She hit SAVE and logged on to TweenBlurt.com, her favorite Internet site, looking for Bigwheels.

Usually Madison was suspicious of people she met inside the fishbowl since they sometimes made up facts about themselves. The Web site rules said you had to be “100% honest” about your facts, especially age and sex, but some kids weren’t so honest. One time there was a boy in a chat room who pretended he was a girl. The moderator kicked him off for using dirty words.

Bigwheels was way different. Madison had met her over the summer in a room called ONLY THE LONELY. They now met back regularly in their own private room, GOFISHY. Bigwheels liked computers just like Madison. She gave great advice, too, which had come in handy since seventh grade started. They were kindred spirits in the virtual world.

Madison could share things with her online friend that she couldn’t tell her other friends, not even Aimee or Fiona. Like her files, Madison still kept most things secret from the rest of the world.

Her crush on Hart Jones was one.

Bigwheels was another.

When she didn’t find her keypal online, Madison wrote an e-mail to touch base.

From: MadFinn


To: Bigwheels


Subject: HELP


Date: Wed 27 Sept 9:46 PM


Thanks for your message from the weekend. I wanted to write back sooner, but I had like three hours of homework. And now there’s this school play. Yikes. My friends don’t understand, but I don’t want to audition. I need your AMAZING advice.


Yours till the curtain calls,


Madfinn


Madison hoped a megadose of “amazing” from Bigwheels would help her to make it through tomorrow’s auditions.

“Y
OUR ALARM WENT OFF
twice,” Mom shouted. She tugged Madison’s quilted comforter off the bed. “Now, up!”

Madison rolled into a ball. She
had
hit the snooze button on her combination CD-stereo-clock twice. Mom was right about that.

She would be late.

Madison pushed herself down, down, down into her mattress and pillows, where it was warm and safe from things like tests and teachers …

And auditions.

Phinnie licked Madison’s nose as Mom appeared at the bedroom doorway again. “I am not going to ask you again, honey. I said get—”

“Up, up, I’m up,” Madison groaned, finally lifting herself into a sitting position. She pushed Phinnie out of the way and rubbed her eyes.

“Fifteen minutes and I want you ready to go.” Mom dragged Phin out by the collar and shut the door behind her. “I’ll get your breakfast ready.”

“What would Aimee wear to an audition?” Madison asked herself a moment later as she posed in front of her closet. She sighed, pulling sweaters off the top shelf and throwing jeans, then corduroys and a long skirt into a pile on the floor. She finally decided on a pair of capris, a white oxford shirt that she left untucked, and her favorite pair of orange sneakers.
MADFINN
was doodled in ballpoint pen on the left sole.

Madison stared at her reflection in her dresser mirror. Postcards and photos and ticket stubs wedged under the edge of its frame stared back. There was Aimee in jazz shoes; Phinnie at the beach; a close-up of a Brazilian frog from last summer’s trip; Mom’s business card for Budge Films; a receipt from Byte City, a nearby computer store; a pink ribbon from Lodge 12 at Camp Chipachu, where she’d won “Most Creative Camper” the summer after fourth grade; other pictures of Dad, Mom, and her newest pal, Fiona …

“Ten minutes and counting!” Mom screamed again. “I mean it!”

Phinnie was scratch-scratch-scratching at the door.

On her way out, Madison tripped over a pile of files on the floor and then bent down to gather the colorful clippings that had slipped out. She’d been collecting files on all sorts of subjects for the last year: animals (she loved animals more than anything), cool words, clothes she wanted, singers she loved, flowers, and more. Eventually, Madison would upload all the words and images onto her very own Web page, using funkyfotostudio.com to add collage effects, special borders, and even captions.

What a mess, Madison thought. The more she tried to pick up the clippings, the more they went flying.

“Five minutes!” Mom screeched.

It felt like the beginning of the
worst
possible day.

When it was time for the afternoon seventh-grade auditions for
The Wiz,
Madison felt even more nervous than ever. In a study period, she went up to the library media center computer to check her e-mail, just in case Bigwheels had sent a message. But her mailbox was empty.

Nothing worse than an empty mailbox, Madison thought.

On top of everything else, she hadn’t really seen much of Aimee or Fiona during the day. Everyone was way too busy thinking about
The Wiz
auditions to talk about other subjects. Tryouts had a wacky way of sucking everyone into the acting twilight zone so that suddenly even the quietest kids in school got stars in their eyes.

At the end of the day, as Madison entered the half darkness of the school auditorium, she felt a bolt of panic surge through her body like electricity. She zapped into a middle row of seats where Egg and Drew were sitting and sank down so no one could see her. It was almost like sinking under the bedroom covers this morning at home. Under those covers had to be the safest place on earth. Why wasn’t she back there instead of in here?

“Has everyone filled out one of these?” Mr. Gibbons, Madison’s English teacher and the drama advisor, waved a light blue piece of paper in front of the kids. “I want you to indicate what parts you want to play and what songs you’d like to sing. Put down your name and homeroom, too. Okay?”

Fiona came up from the seat behind Madison and whispered, “Did you see Hart Jones, Maddie? He told me he was looking for you. Oh yeah, do you have a pencil I can borrow?”

Hart?

Madison sunk deeper into her seat. The last person she felt like seeing right now was Hart Jones. She was in the middle of an audition freak-out. What possible reason could he have for wanting to see her
now?

Mr. Gibbons dimmed the house lights as kids took the stage. It was hard to see anyone unless they were down in front or right next to you. A few people were even surrounded by a dim, red halo of light from exit signs at either side of the stage. Madison’s eyes scanned the room.

Where were Ivy and her drones—Phony Joanie and Rose Thorn?
Down in front, right side of the room, talking to Mrs. Montefiore, the musical director.

Aimee?
Down in front, mingling with another girl in Dance Troupe.

Hart?

“Finnster!” Hart cried out of nowhere, and plopped into the seat right next to hers. He had been calling Madison that stupid nickname for years. He’d also been sitting behind her the whole time.

“Hello,” Madison said. She was so surprised, she swallowed a great big gulp of air.

“Is this seat taken?” Hart joked, but of course he’d already made himself comfortable, leaning back and perching his sneakers on the row in front. “Hey, I wanted to ask you a question about the science homework.”

“Ummm,” Madison started to speak. Suddenly, without warning, she was out of the seat, pushing past Hart’s legs, dashing up the aisle, heading out of the auditorium, running away.

Thunk.

The assembly doors banged open. Madison squinted. The light was brighter in the hall. The air was different, too. She leaned up against a giant trophy case and took a deep breath.

Inside the case were trophies for everything from football to public speaking. Madison looked inside at all the names. This school was so much bigger than middle school; sometimes it felt overwhelming. Inside there was also a small display of autumn leaf art from the nature club and a bulletin board where the honor roll would be listed after the first marking period.

“Madison?”

She jumped and saw a boy standing near the water fountain.

“Drew!” Madison said, amazed. “You scared me. What are you doing out here?” Her voice echoed off the tiled walls and floors.

“You look wicked pale. Are you okay?”

Madison leaned past him to take a drink of cool water. “I’m okay. Just jumpy. Nervous about … you know … the audition.”

“Me too.”

“You are?” Madison asked.

“Yeah.” Drew was looking at the floor.

“So what song are you gonna sing?”

“Oh no. I’m not auditioning,” Drew said. “No way. I’m gonna work backstage instead. You know, lights, sound, that kind of stuff.”

“Really? How did you learn about all that?” Madison asked.

“My older brother, Ben, did that in high school,” Drew said.

“You have an older brother?” Madison was intrigued. She didn’t know too much about Drew’s family except that he was super rich.

“Ben’s from my dad’s first marriage,” Drew said. “He’s in college now. We’re not close, really.”

“Oh,” Madison said. Something in Drew’s voice said to stop asking questions.

“Why don’t you work backstage, too?” Drew suggested. “Why don’t you ask Mr. Gibbons?”

Maybe Madison could work on the play
and
still be part of the group?

She smiled. “You think?”

“Yeah. Well. I gotta go.” Drew shoved his hands inside his pockets and walked back inside the auditorium.

Madison followed. She could barely see her way down the aisle the moment the darkness enveloped her again. The only light now was a yellowish beam onstage, where one girl sat singing on a stool, holding a single high note. She sounded like an angel. Madison took a seat and watched until the girl had finished her song.

She was Lindsay Frost, and she’d been in Madison’s class since first grade, but Madison rarely noticed her. The only time Lindsay spoke out in class was to ask for a bathroom pass.

Right now, however, Lindsay
and
her voice were making quite an impression on everyone.

“Thank you. Miss Frost,” Mr. Gibbons said when Lindsay had finished her song. “I think I can speak for everyone when I say that was delightful.”

“Even if she
can
sing, she’s still a freak,” someone whispered in the row directly ahead. Madison knew the voice.
Ivy Daly.

“I can’t believe she crawled out of her hole to try out,” Rose Thorn whispered back. “As if she thinks she’ll get in.”

“As if,” Phony Joanie said.

“Fat
chance, right?” Ivy laughed at her own stupid joke. She always made cracks about the way people looked. It was one of the things that put her on the top of Madison’s enemy list.

Before Madison knew what she was doing, she leaned forward. “Why don’t you guys just shut up?”

Ivy whirled around. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Shhhhhhhhhh!” Mr. Gibbons shushed them from down in front. “Keep it down, ladies, or you’re out of here.”

“Yeah, keep it down, Madison,” Ivy said so everyone else heard. Rose and Joanie laughed.

Madison clenched her fists. She wanted to grab Ivy’s pretty red hair and yank it out handful by curly handful until Ivy Daly was as bald as a big old bowling ball.

But Madison kept her cool.

She had something very important to discuss with Mr. Gibbons.

After Lindsay’s song, a few other kids got up onstage and tried to outdo one another. One kid even got up there and juggled while he sang.

Madison could feel the pound of a pulse behind her knees and on her wrists. It pounded more with each audition—the idea of her getting up there. It was like someone had turned her treble dial all the way up to the highest setting.

By the time she approached Mr. Gibbons, Madison was afraid she might not even be able to speak. Her mouth was dry, too.

“Not everyone is cut out for singing,” Mr. Gibbons told her when they spoke. “I think I know what would be just perfect for you, though….”

Madison’s body hummed when he told her what she’d be doing.

She was bursting to tell someone her good news.

From: MadFinn


To: Bigwheels


Subject: Something Important to Tell You


Date: Thurs 28 Sept 5:31 PM


Me again. Where are you? I know you are probably just busy again or your server is down again. But I still wish you would write! I was hoping that you would pick up the e-mail I sent yesterday and write back. Did you get it? Are you ok? Didn’t you tell me once you hated acting? You didn’t like people pretending and being fake. Well, after today, I
totally
agree. What do you think about stage managers?


THAT’S ME!


I just walked up to the advisor and told him I was too nervous to go onstage, and he said there was other stuff for me to do. I have to collect a few props and help with line readings in case people forget and organize their costumes.


It should be a blast, don’t ya think?


Please write. I’m waiting!


Yours till the stage manages,


MadFinn


As Madison was signing off on her e-mail, an Insta-Message popped up.

It was Fiona, a.k.a. Wetwinz. The pair ducked into a private room to chat.

: I didn’t c u at the end of Wiz, what happened????


: I didn’t try out


: what??


: I didn’t try out


: WHY?


: im gonna be stage manager instead


: oh


: I told aimee all this on the phone didn’t she tell you


: Why?


: I really wanted to do that. How was ur audition?


: I WUZ SO NERVOUS!!!!!!!!


: Egg said you have a reallygood voice


: Egg did? What a QT! What else did he say


: tell me how ur audition was


: no tell me more about Egg :>)


: what about Ivy?


: she’ll get a good part


: probably


: her voice cracked during that one song though


: what else?


: time 4 dinner


: DON’T BE NERVOUS L8R