All Shook Up (From the Files of Madison Finn, 22) (7 page)

Madhur and Chet giggled through the first five minutes of previews. Madison couldn’t help hearing—and staring at—them. Hart was trying to get Madison’s attention, but she wasn’t listening. When Chet finally turned in the other direction, Madison seized the moment.

“What’s up with
him
?” Madison asked Madhur under her breath.

“Who?” Madhur asked sweetly.

“Chet,” Madison whispered.

Madhur shrugged. “Everything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Madison insisted.

“What are you talking about?” Chet asked.

Madison sank backward in her chair again, embarrassed.

“Nothing,” she said.

As the words
Feature Presentation
appeared onscreen, questions darted in and out of Madison’s mind. What had happened to Madison’s well-laid plans for GNO? Why was Aimee still giving her the silent treatment? Why did
everything
have to end up a complete mess?

Then—without warning—Hart grabbed Madison’s hand. That made six times. It took her breath away.

And as she stared down at his fingers and the movie started, all the buzzing inside Madison’s head just … stopped.

M
ADISON OPENED UP HER
laptop and logged on to TweenBlurt.com. The date flashed up in the corner:
HAPPY SUNDAY!

“So you come to this main screen,” Madison explained to Madhur, “and from here we have to assign you a password and all that.”

Madison had decided that she would make it a top priority to get Madhur online, with her own TweenBlurt e-mail address. They sat together at Madhur’s house, on a long, ornate living-room sofa covered with quilts and coverlets decorated with fringes and the same little mirrors Madison had seen on Madhur’s scarf. Once Mom had given the thumbs-up to Madison’s having dinner at the Singh house, Madison knew it would be an ideal time to bring her trusty orange messenger bag and laptop with its wireless chip.

“What password do you want?” Madison asked.

“I don’t know,” Madhur said, thinking very hard.

“My latest password is ‘Files’,” Madison said in a low voice, as if she were trading undercover information. “I change it once a month, for security purposes—not that anyone would really ever try to break into my files or my mailbox …”

“I guess I could make ‘Punjab’ my password, for starters,” Madhur said.

“That’s good,” Madison said.

Within moments of having registered, an e-mail appeared in Madhur’s new e-mailbox. It stated that she was officially registered.

From: [email protected]


To: MadSingh


Subject: CONFIRMATION


Date: Sun 27 Sept 4:09 PM


This is a confirmation e-mail. Do not reply. If you have any questions, contact the Webmaster.


New TweenBlurt member: MADHUR


Age: 12 (permission granted)


Screen name: MADSINGH


Password: Punjab


Please keep this e-mail in a safe place in case you should lose your account information.


Thanks for joining TweenBlurt!


Sincerely,


Webmaster and the Administrative Team


Madhur had now officially acquired her own screen name, password, and access to the world of TweenBlurt. Madison instantly felt more connected than ever to her new friend.

Glancing around, Madison noticed the way the living room was crammed full of large pieces of furniture, all draped in blankets. Atop the fireplace mantel sat two painted figurines. One had the head of an elephant; its front legs were raised. It was dressed in flowing clothes. The other looked more human, only with blue skin. Madhur explained that the elephant figure was called Sri Ganesha. “My mom and grandmamma always talk to Ganesha before anything important happens. Sometimes I even do it, too, like before a big test,” Madhur said.

“Does it work?” Madison asked.

“Well, Ganesha is the lord of wisdom, I guess, so he knows a lot. And he has all the energy of Shiva. That’s the other figure, by the way, the blue guy. He is the destroyer of evil and the restorer of good.”

“Why is he blue?” Madison asked.

“Because he drank poison to save the world from destruction,” Madhur stated matter-of-factly. “And he turned blue.”

“Oh,” Madison said. “That’s intense.”

“Yeah,” Madhur said. “With a capital I.”

Along one long shelf attached to a wall, Madison spotted rows of framed photographs. Some were pictures of more statues of Ganesha and Shiva—but most were real-people pictures of Madhur and the members of her family. There were old-fashioned, sepia-toned photos alongside Polaroid shots that had been placed in teeny frames.

“What’s that smell?” Madison asked, sniffing at the air. All at once a pungent, sweet aroma filled the living room.

Madhur shrugged her shoulders. “My mother is preparing a tandoori dinner tonight,” she said. “She’s making lamb and chicken. I hope you like meat. Once I had a friend come over and she was a vegetarian. I thought she’d keel over when my mom served her a kebab on rice.”

Madison giggled. “My mom’s a vegetarian; I’m not.”

“Do you like bread? My mother makes the best
kulchas
. Those are stuffed Indian breads. We have all these dipping sauces for them, too.”

Madison swore she felt her stomach flip-flop—with hunger.

“Okay, girls, I need your help,” Mrs. Singh said, sashaying into the living room in her traditional garb “Maddie, I need you in the kitchen now.” Madison was surprised to hear Mrs. Singh use her nickname. Then she realized Mrs. Singh was speaking to Madhur.

“Your mom calls you Maddie?” Madison asked Madhur. For some reason, Madison had not even considered the possibility that she and Madhur would share not only the same interests—but also the exact same nickname, Maddie.

“For as long as I can remember,” Madhur said.

“Maddie is
my
nickname, too, you know,” Madison said.

“So, which of us will be Maddie One and which will be Maddie Two?” Madhur joked.

Mrs. Singh showed the girls into the very large kitchen. Stretched across one counter was an array of ingredients Madison had never seen. Then again, Mom rarely cooked, so these items wouldn’t have been familiar. There were jars of cardamom, curry, aniseed, saffron, and tamarind. Although she had no idea what any of those tasted like, Madison’s mouth watered at the thought of them. The room smelled like a spice chest.

“Don’t forget ghee,” Mrs. Singh explained to the girls.

“That’s butter,” Madhur whispered.

Madison nodded and watched. The meal magically came together.

Somewhere between Mrs. Singh’s rubbing the spices onto the chicken and Madhur’s stuffing the Indian bread with herbs and onions, an older boy plowed through the kitchen doors. He carried an iPod and wore a hat pulled down over his forehead.

“Yo!” the boy said.

“Who’s that?” Madison whispered, curious.

“Mister Obnoxious,” Madhur mumbled, “Otherwise known as my brother. He is seriously lacking the cool gene.”

“You have a brother?” Madison said quietly. For some reason, she’d assumed Madhur was an only child—just as she was. After all, they’d been alike in so many other ways.

“Are you staying for supper, Jahan?” Mrs. Singh asked, reaching over to remove the boy’s headphones. She turned back to Madison. “Jahan is just back from year two at university. He’s studying to be a doctor.”

“We’re so lucky to be graced by his presence,” Madhur said mockingly, making a face at him.

“Zip it,” Jahan said as he shot a brooding look toward Madison and Madhur. “Sorry, Mom, I can’t stay for supper.”

Mrs. Singh hit Jahan in the shoulder with a wooden spoon. “Nonsense,” she said, chastising him. “Of course you will stay. Now, go put out the silver and china—for five today.”

Jahan skulked away. Madison and Madhur couldn’t help giggling.

“So where’s Dad?” Jahan asked, ignoring Madison’s and his sister’s laughter.

Mrs. Singh smiled. “Your father is upstairs. You know. Napping.”

“Snoring is more like it,” Jahan said.

“He’ll be down for the meal,” Madhur’s mom said.

Everyone laughed at Jahan’s comment, including Madison, even though she knew it was a family joke. Everything about Madhur’s family was different from Madison’s own; yet it was so
comfortable
.

Somewhere inside, a twinge of jealousy bubbled up. Madison tried to ignore it. What was making her jealous? Then she knew. It was Madhur’s intact family: mom, dad,
and
brother.

Madison often felt a similar jealous twinge when she visited Aimee or Fiona. It was always the same realization: having two parents at home was somehow better than having one. Okay, not always better, but
different
, in a way that made Madison miss life
before
the Big D. No matter how much she got used to her parents’ divorce, she’d always long for a mom and a dad who lived in the same house. And having a stepmother (Stephanie) didn’t really help. An extra person couldn’t just make all those other feelings go away.

Madison recalled how, pre-Big D, Dad had prepared delicious meals in their house, just as Mrs. Singh was doing now, in hers. Phin had used to dance around the table while Mom filled water glasses. Life hadn’t just been a series of paper plates and takeout. Sometimes, these days, that was how life felt.

“Maddie?” Madhur asked. “It feels funny to say my own nickname when I talk to you.”

Madison smiled politely and tried to get her thoughts back on track.

“Let’s go hang out upstairs for a few minutes,” Madhur said. “Supper won’t be ready for a little while.”

Madison followed her new friend up a long, winding staircase. At the top, the hall split three ways. Madhur went through an orange door. This had to be a very good sign: Madhur’s door was painted orange! That was Madison’s favorite color in the whole world.

“Welcome to my room!” Madhur announced.

The room was tiny, Madison observed, but bright, like a bouquet of flowers. The walls were painted in rich red, yellow, and tangerine, respectively. On her bed, Madhur had a collection of colorful stuffed fish. The room looked like a rainbow come to life.

“You like fish,” Madison asked, “and you had never been on TweenBlurt!” That had to be more than just a coincidence.

Madhur smiled. “Maybe,” she said.

It was almost too crowded with two girls in the small room at once, but Madison loved being there. Her mood improved instantly as they lay across Madhur’s bed, legs waving in the air. Then Madhur pulled out a thick photo album.

“This is a photo of my grandmamma when she was little,” Madhur explained, showing Madison a small picture of a young girl, half dressed, smiling, standing next to a wide river. Next to the girl, a cluster of Punjabi women kneeled by the water washing clothes.

“She looks so small, standing there,” Madison commented. The sepia-toned photo had been taken in Punjab more than seventy years before.

Madhur flipped through the pages. There was an incredible array of photos of India and Pakistan and of many generations of Singhs, taken over the years. Madison thought about her own photo albums at home. She didn’t have photos of exotic places—not like this. There were some pictures that had been taken on Mom’s film shoots, but nothing seemed as impressive or as exciting as Madhur’s family album.

Madison dreaded the thought, but it popped into her head nonetheless: was her life
boring
?

Of course, Madison was grateful for everything she had, and of course she had lots of people in her world who loved her, and of course she did
some
interesting things. Mom’s job had afforded Madison the opportunity of traveling some. But she didn’t have all these cousins or grandmothers or uncles or even pets. She didn’t have stories like the ones Madhur’s grandmamma told.

Madison tried to keep up as Madhur continued with her running commentary on the places and people in the photos. After a half hour, the subject finally switched to homework. The girls remained stuck on what topic to choose for the project. There were many issues, affecting the whole world. What would theirs be?

“MADDIE!”

A booming voice roared upstairs.

“Who was that?” Madison asked.

“My brother,” Madhur grumbled. “He’s such a loudmouth. I guess it’s suppertime. We should go.”

Madhur hopped off the bed; Madison followed. They went downstairs and back into the kitchen, where many different-size plates and bowls and steaming hot cups of rice were spread across a patterned table runner. There was that pungent, warm, spicy smell again.

Mmmmmmmm.

Mr. Singh appeared, still a little groggy from his nap. He had a beard and mustache, although he did not have much hair on the top of his head.

“Aha!” Mr. Singh announced, taking a seat at the head of the table. He smiled broadly at Madison. “At last! Our guest of honor has arrived.”

Madhur nudged Madison and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry. My dad likes to make a big deal. He won’t bite.”

Madison took her seat at the table next to Madhur. Jahan sat directly across the table from them both, but he didn’t say much. He seemed to be wearing imaginary headphones, trying hard to tune out everyone else. Mrs. Singh sat at the opposite end of the table from her husband and began to serve food onto a plate.

“So, Madhur tells me your name is Maddie, too. Does that make you sweet lightning, too?” Mr. Singh laughed.

Madison looked bewildered, but Madhur cleared things up immediately.

“Dad’s talking about my first and middle names, which are Madhur Damini. That literally means ‘sweet lightning.’ Dad always says I have this special spark. Cheesy, right?”

“Not at all. My middle name is just Francesca. I have no idea what it means, or what ‘Madison’ means, for that matter.”

“You should look it up on TweenBlurt!” Madhur said brightly.

Everyone dug in to the dishes. Madison spooned little tastes of the tandoori chicken, lentil daal, palak paneer, biryani, lamb kebab, and more out onto her plate. She’d eaten Indian food before, of course, but nothing that compared to this meal. Everything tasted delicious. Or maybe the company made it so.