Picture-Perfect (From the Files of Madison Finn, 8) (8 page)

“It’s open seating,” Dad said. “Let’s go over to that side where there aren’t as many people. On the third-base side.”

“Do you want anything to eat, Maddie?” Stephanie asked. “We’re going to dinner afterward, but if you want something now, we can—”

“Nah,” Madison said. “I don’t eat dogs.”

The crowd transfixed Madison. This place was packed! A few men with giant bellies sat down in the bleacher seats just ahead of them, laughing in that really annoying, loud way that strangers do.

Other people filed in and sat down on the surrounding bleachers. It was overwhelming to notice all the different faces and clothes and body types. For some reason, Madison had her people radar on tonight. She was observing and taking mental notes on all kinds of people: fat, skinny, tall, short, and loud.

There were definitely lots of
loud
people here. The men in front wouldn’t shut up. But the weather was warm and balmy. Spring was definitely here, and everyone, loud or quiet, seemed happy.

Each league team was sponsored by a local business. A family of eight came into the game wearing blue and yellow, the team colors for Winnie’s Dry Cleaning Astros. The opposing team wore red and white and called themselves Freeze Palace Pirates. Madison smiled when she saw their name, since she and her friends always got their ice cream at Freeze Palace. Now she knew what team she’d be rooting for.

When Dad got up for some popcorn, Stephanie leaned over to whisper to Madison. “I meant to say earlier that you look adorable tonight,” Stephanie said. “I love that sweater. And did you change your hair?”

Madison’s hair was still flopping in her face. As of this week, she thought of it as her new, zit do.

“Well, sorta,” Madison said. She hedged, but then decided to come clean with Stephanie. Lifting her bangs, Madison revealed the giant, hidden pimple.

“What’s so bad about that?” Stephanie asked. “You can barely see it.”

“Thanks for lying,” Madison said. “But I know a volcano when I see one. It ruins my entire face—and if it weren’t for the cover-up that my mom gave to me … and I have to go to the concert looking like this!”

“Maddie,” Stephanie said. “You are so lovely, don’t you see that?”

Madison felt uncomfortable when anyone started giving her these little pep talks, but she listened anyway.

“When I was in seventh grade,” Stephanie went on, “I once had this huge rash break out all over my face. I thought it was hives or an allergy or something. Then the doctor told me it was acne. Acne!”

“Bummer,” Madison said, listening a little closer now.

“Well, I freaked out. Acne was like being a leper, at least at my school. I stayed home for three days until my mother finally told me I had to go back. Even then, I’d sit in class with my head down, eyes on the floor. I didn’t want anyone to see me, least of all the guy I liked in my homeroom, Bobby MacPhee. The kids laughed at me and called me crater face and all sorts of mean stuff. It was awful.”

Stephanie kept talking about her junior-high experience. How
her
invasion of pimples had lasted for months. How she’d tried every medicine that was available.

“How did you ever get through it?” Madison asked.

Stephanie shrugged. “Took zit pills and smeared on cream and lots of cover-up. But more importantly, I learned something.”

“Learned something from zits?” Madison said.

“Yeah. I learned who my real friends were. They didn’t care about any of the cover-ups. They loved me whether I had zits or not. I think I was afraid they wouldn’t. Isn’t that silly?”

Madison wondered if Hart liked her just the same, now that he’d seen her great zit.

“The point is, Maddie,” Stephanie explained, “sometimes I think we look into the mirror and focus all our attention on one thing, one flaw. But most people looking at you from the outside don’t see that flaw. They see the whole you. They see the cute face, the fun hairdo, the seventh-grade computer whiz. Got it?”

Madison nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she did.

“Maybe,” Stephanie said, laughing, “you should stop looking in the mirror for a few days. No one’s perfect, Maddie.”

“I know,” Madison said with a sigh. “I know.”

“Hey!” Dad yelled, reappearing just a few rows down. He was walking back up the bleachers with his popcorn and a few drinks. “They’re about to take the field.”

Madison glanced around the ballpark again, looking for signs of someone—
anyone
—she knew. But everyone started to blend together in a sea of baseball caps, hot dogs, and chatter.

“PLAY BALL!” the umpire yelled from down on the field.

A cheer went up from the stands.

Madison cheered, too.

“Hello? Mom?”

When Madison came back home after the game and a quick dinner at Dad’s favorite Chinese restaurant, she looked for Mom right away. Poking her head into Mom’s office, she found her slouched in a chair, half asleep.

“Mom?” Madison whispered, gently shaking her mom’s shoulders. She’d been working late on a project.

“Oooh!” Mom jumped up, awake in an instant. “I must have dozed off. What time is it?”

“After nine-thirty,” Madison said. “Dad just dropped me off.”

“Did you have fun?” Mom asked, half yawning.

Madison nodded. “You and Dad used to watch baseball all the time together, didn’t you? I thought of that when we were there.”

“Oh, Maddie,” Mom said, leaning forward to give her daughter a warm hug. “That was sweet.”

“I like Stephanie so much, but sometimes I still miss you and Dad being together. Is that weird?” Madison asked.

Mom shook her head. “Not one bit. Hey, let’s get ready for bed, okay? We can talk upstairs.”

When Madison climbed up, she was surprised to discover that Mom had laid out a spread of beauty moisturizers and buffers and all kinds of special products on the bathroom counter.

“I thought maybe I’d give you a mini-facial before you went to sleep,” Mom said, smiling. “Not a real facial, but a little pampering. We can all use that.”

Madison glanced in the mirror and saw the zit staring back at her. She remembered what Stephanie had said about forgetting and letting go. Mom believed the same thing. Maybe Madison could, too?

She and Mom perched on the edge of the tub. A half-hour later, after lots of lotion and good laughs, Mom pronounced Madison “beautified.”

Madison had to admit that she felt nicer than nice.

Her zit even felt invisible.

After saying their good-nights, Madison pulled on her oversized Lisa Simpson T-shirt and turned on her laptop. She hadn’t spoken with Fiona or Aimee all day, so she surfed through the chat rooms on TweenBlurt.com and checked her buddy lists in search of a little conversation with her BFFs.

No one she knew was online right now, so she checked her e-mail next.

FROM	SUBJECT
Webmaster@TweenBlur	Site Updates
Bigwheels	Re: HELP!!!

The Webmaster at Tweenblurt.com sent a general announcement to all members about the site. They were adding new features to the “Ask the Blowfish” fortune-telling page; developing new and improved chat rooms; and working on the creation of a
MAKE YOUR OWN WEB PAGE
section. Madison wanted to pay extra-close attention to that part. She was always looking for new ideas to improve her own Web use and the Web pages on the Far Hills Junior High site.

However, the second e-mail was way more important. Madison really wanted to hear from her key-pal. Bigwheels had sent it just a moment before.

From: Bigwheels


To: MadFinn


Subject: Re: HELP!!!


Date: Sun 19 May 9:31 PM


I miss you too and I’m supersorry that I have been bad about writing back. I have too much homework these days. And it is soooo funny that you said you have a zit, because I get those too and they are AWFUL. But it will go away eventually. My mom took me to a dermatologist once and she gave me this cream for it.


I wouldn’t stress out about your BFF. Aren’t all dancers supposed to be really skinny? If you are really worried though, just tell her. And as far as your total crush goes, maybe this Hart guy isn’t the guy for you. I mean, why do you like him so much anyhow? That other girl sounds mean. She probably knows you like him and is doing it on purpose! I agree that girls like her always get their way. That’s how I feel sometimes at my school too.


I am wicked jealous of you going to the Nikki concert. My mom says that maybe if Nikki comes here to play (I think she has a concert in Seattle), then I can go—MAYBE. But I have to do all these chores and pay for part of the ticket. I want ALL the details from when you go like who you see and meet and what songs she plays and EVERYTHING!!!


BTW: Have you checked on a search engine lately for Nikki Web pages? I checked, and found that there were 8,133,489, and that Nikki is the most popular search term. Can you imagine having that many different Web pages with your picture on them? I have to go download some pictures and print them out. One entire wall in my bedroom is devoted to Nikki. My fave poster is this shot of her from the latest issue of
Blast
. She has on this very cool dress and pink glasses.


Write back soon and tell me what happens with everything.


Yours till the super stars,


Bigwheels (a/k/a Victoria)


Just as Madison hit
SAVE,
another message popped into her e-mailbox.

Madison caught her breath when she read the name.

FROM             SUBJECT


Sk8ingBoy      Class


She stared at the screen, dumbfounded. Sk8ingBoy was Hart Jones!

Hart had first asked for Madison’s e-mail address months ago. So what made him send her e-mail
today
? Madison opened it up quickly.

From: Sk8ingBoy


To: MadFinn


Subject: Class


Date: Sun 19 May 9:40 PM


Hey Finnster have u done that self-portrait for art class yet? I dont know whattodo for mine. Do we ned it for class 2morrow? I am gonna call Carmen about it. Write back soon. CYA L8R.


Madison could hardly catch her breath. Her crush had finally sent e-mail.

But Madison sighed.

Hart was going to call Carmen?

Between enemy number one, Poison Ivy Daly, and supersnob Carmen, competition for Hart’s attention in seventh grade had gotten so fierce. With (or even without) the great zit, Madison was beginning to realize that maybe Hart would never think of her the way she wished he would. He’d never crush back.

She quickly tried to get her mind on other things—like Nikki.

Madison’s first concert was now only a few days away.

A
T THE LOCKERS MONDAY
morning, Fiona and Madison were standing around gabbing about the upcoming Nikki concert, when Aimee walked up. She had a sour expression on her face.

“Aim!” Fiona said. “So how was the rest of your weekend? Did you find an outfit for the concert?”

“I guess,” Aimee said, opening her locker without saying another word. She just gathered her books, shoved them into her bag, and walked away toward class.

“Aim?” Madison called out after her. “Wait!”

She and Fiona chased after their BFF.

“Are you feeling okay?” Fiona asked. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Aimee shrugged. “Yeah. I’m okay. Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because,” Madison said, “you seem kind of distant.”

“You guys are acting so weird lately,” Aimee said.

“
We’ve
been acting weird?” Madison said. “Are you joking?”

“No,” Aimee replied. “You keep asking if I’m okay. Why don’t you just leave me alone? I am fine. I am excited about the concert and I am fine.”

“Aim!” Fiona said, smiling. “Come on. We’re just—”

“Just
what
!” Aimee interrupted.

“Aim, what is up with you?” Madison asked.

“Yeah,” Fiona said. “You never talk to us like—”

“Like
what
!” Aimee asked. “You guys, I’m psyched about the concert and all that—okay? But I have other stuff on my mind, too. So would you please stop asking me the same questions? Just leave me alone.”

Madison and Fiona just stood there with nothing to say.

Brrrring.

“That’s the bell. I have to go to class,” Aimee said. “Are you coming, Fiona?”

Fiona grabbed her stuff, too, and gave Madison a look as she walked off.

It was as if someone had stolen the real Aimee and replaced her with a ballerina clone.

Madison said a quiet good-bye and watched Aimee and Fiona as they disappeared around a corner. Then she grabbed her books and headed off to her English class. There was a busy morning of quizzes and essays ahead, and she was planning to spend the afternoon in the computer lab helping Mrs. Wing, her favorite teacher, with updates to the school’s Web site.

Later that day, when Madison arrived at the computer lab, Mrs. Wing was busier than busy. Other kids were milling around, too, including Egg and Drew. They were scanning in photos for the site.

“Nice of you to show up,” Egg cracked. “What are
you
doing here, Maddie?”

She hadn’t been by the lab to help after school very much this spring. Madison’s volunteering and schoolwork had been taking up most of her time.

“Hiya, Maddie,” Drew said sheepishly. Madison was beginning to think maybe Drew liked her from the way he acted around her, all shy and sweet. But there was no way she wanted to think about that, so she just smiled.

“Don’t act so surprised that I’m here, Egg,” Madison said. “I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

Egg made a face. “Yeah, right.”

Madison gave him a knuckle noogie on his shoulder, and Egg let out a little “Ouch.”