Picture-Perfect (From the Files of Madison Finn, 8) (9 page)

“We were just downloading pictures from the last soccer games,” Drew said.

“There’s a really good shot of Fiona, actually,” Egg said. “Wanna see?”

Madison grinned. “How
is
Fiona, Egg?” she asked.

Egg turned beet red. “How should I know? Duh. You see her more than me.”

Madison grinned even wider. “Yeah, right.”

As Egg and Drew continued scanning, Madison placed the photos in a collage on the soccer page. She wrote some captions, too.

GOALIE JUST MISSES THE BALL!

FAR HILLS FORWARD DAISY ESPINOZA ON THE GO!

GAME-WINNING KICK FOR THE RANGERS!

They had only been sitting there working for a short time when someone barged right into the classroom. Egg’s mouse almost slid off the desk.

It was Fiona.

“Oh, Maddie, you’re here!” Fiona said, breathless, running over to the terminal where Madison was seated. “You won’t believe what just happened. I was in last period standing next to Aimee and she … she … collapsed.”

Madison shook her head. “What?”

“Like, onto the floor?” Drew asked.

Fiona caught her breath. “She was standing there normal one minute and then the next minute she was lying there in a heap. Roger and her dad came over like ten minutes ago from the bookstore to pick her up. Nurse Shim was freaking out. It was so awful.”

“Where is she now?” Madison said.

“Home, I guess,” Fiona said. “Yeah, that’s what Nurse Shim said.”

“I hope she’s not really sick,” Egg said. He sounded worried for real.

“Let’s go!” Madison declared. She grabbed her orange bag and asked Egg and Drew to take over the rest of the computer scanning.

“Go where?” Fiona asked.

“Over to Aimee’s, to see if she’s okay,” Madison said.

The walk back toward the Gillespie house on Blueberry Street felt like an eternity. Bags felt heavier, sidewalks seemed longer, and the air even seemed hotter.

“I bet I know what happened,” Fiona said as they trudged along. “She wasn’t eating. That can make you faint, right? Like the other day at the mall, she made fun of our lunches. She’s
always
talking about not eating.”

“I guess you’re right,” Madison sighed.

“I know you guys have been friends way longer than I have been,” Fiona said. “But not eating and getting so angry in class … I’ve read magazine articles … this kind of behavior can be wicked serious.”

“You sound like a doctor or something,” Madison said.

“It’s true, Maddie!” Fiona said. “I remember seeing this book in the library … What was it called?
The Best Little Girl in the World
! And haven’t you seen that TV special about eating disorders? What if Aimee is anorexic?”

Madison sighed. She knew what Fiona was saying. She’d seen a show about eating disorders on TLC.

This didn’t seem real. It definitely couldn’t be happening to
their
friend.

It was all a lot of drama; that’s all.

The girls pushed themselves to walk a little faster. Thankfully, the Gillespie house was in view. Aimee’s brother Roger had just walked out onto the front porch.

“Roger!” Madison cried out. “Is Aimee home?”

Roger had his head hung down low. “Did you guys see what happened to my sister?” he asked.

“Aimee fainted,” Fiona said.

Madison nodded. “Fiona was there.”

“The doctor is up there with her now,” Roger said. “He said her blood sugar was low. Apparently, she’s dehydrated, too.” Roger threw his arms into the air. “Doc says she may have been starving herself.”

Madison and Fiona grabbed each other.

Fiona was right.

“Is she going to be okay?” they asked at the exact same time.

“Doc says she’s lucky nothing worse happened. But—” Roger cleared his throat. “Did she stop eating or what? I want to know why she did this to herself. What did she say? Doesn’t she eat lunch with you guys every day?”

Just behind them on the street, Mrs. Gillespie pulled up in her car and drove into the driveway. She rushed past them, asking Roger if Aimee was upstairs. She was holding her cell phone. Madison was sure that Mr. Gillespie had called her right away.

When Mrs. Gillespie said that it was all right to see Aimee, Fiona and Madison went upstairs. Aimee looked paler than pale. Her skin was as washed out as her bedsheets. But she still managed to say hello.

“Wow, everyone’s here,” Aimee said.

The doctor was retaking her blood pressure. “Keep still,” he cautioned. “You need to stay very quiet. Close your eyes, Aimee.”

Aimee’s eyes were droopy. She looked over at her friends. “I messed up. I’m sorry.”

“You rest, Aimee,” the doctor said. Then he told everyone to step outside so Aimee could sleep.

“Just as I suspected, your daughter passed out due to lack of nutrients and insufficient hydration,” the doctor said. “Have you noticed any changes in her behavior lately? Has she been more irritable?”

Mrs. Gillespie shook her head. “She has been dancing a lot. Probably too much, I guess,” she said. “Have you noticed anything strange, dear?” she asked her husband.

He shook his head and asked Roger the same question.

“I barely see her, Ma,” Roger said. “She dances nonstop, every day. She’s obsessed with it.”

The doctor listened closely, nodding. “Anything else?”

The Gillespies shook their heads no.

“Actually,” Madison spoke up, “we’ve noticed some changes in Aimee.” She glanced over at Fiona.

“We have,” Fiona agreed. “Aim seemed upset lately.”

“Upset?” Mrs. Gillespie said. “About what?”

“Dance mostly,” Madison said. “She didn’t fit into her costume or something. And she was talking about the way she looked a lot.”

Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie hugged each other.

Roger shook his head. “Does she have an eating issue?”

The doctor frowned. “Sounds likely that she was on the way to that, but I don’t think it was anything quite that serious—yet.”

He escorted the Gillespies down the stairs and into the kitchen, where they sat around the table talking about what to do next and how to get Aimee healthy again. Madison and Fiona asked to say a quick good-bye to Aimee. She hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

“Thanks for coming, you guys,” Aimee said when her BFFs appeared in the doorway.

“We were soooo worried,” Fiona said.

Madison sat on the edge of the bed. “Why did you stop eating, Aim?”

“I don’t know,” Aimee moaned. “I felt fat. Everyone in dance is better than me. There are a lot of reasons.”

“Aimee!” Madison said. “You’re not fat! You’re skinny. What are you talking about?”

Aimee started to cry. “I just felt like … I’m sorry.”

“Why are
you
sorry?” Fiona asked. She sat on the other edge of the bed. “You’re the one who’s sick.”

“I messed everything up,” Aimee cried. “Now I’m sure Dad won’t let me go to the concert, either. I ruined everything.”

Madison and Fiona looked at each other across the bed. No concert would be bad news. They hadn’t thought about that consequence. But they didn’t want Aimee to feel badly about it.

“Don’t worry about the concert right now,” Madison said. “It’s not until the end of the week. Maybe you can still go.”

Aimee sniffled. “I doubt it. When my dad makes up his mind to something he usually never changes it. And Roger
always
sticks with Dad. So he probably won’t be going either as the chaperone. We’re doomed.”

“Quit worrying,” Fiona said as she stroked Aimee’s forehead. “You have to get better first.”

“Yeah,” Madison chimed in. “You
will
get better. We’re not doomed. Not yet.”

Aimee was still crying a little. “I was so mean to you guys in school today. I’m sorry for that, too. I wouldn’t blame you if you never talked to me again.”

“Aimee!” Madison exclaimed. “Will you stop talking like this?”

“We’re your BFFs,” Fiona said.

“We love you,” Madison added.

“You guys are such good friends,” Aimee said. “I love you, too.”

The three held hands on top of the blankets, squeezing extra tight.

After a few more minutes, Madison and Fiona left for home. Their mothers would be wondering why they hadn’t returned home from school yet. And they both had bags filled with homework.

It had been a wild week already—and it was only Monday?

The Nikki concert was four short days away.

From: MadFinn


To: Bigwheels


Subject: You Won’t Believe This! ! !


Date: Tues 21 May 4:23 PM


Wow do I have a story for you. Well, remember how I said my BFF Aimee was acting all weird? She passed out in school yesterday!!! Thankfully she’s OK though. Her mom says she’ll be OK to come back to school in a few days. She just needed to rest and EAT. She was obsessing sooo much about her body lately she stopped eating!! Personally, I couldn’t IMAGINE not eating.


She’s a ballet dancer, I told you that, right? I think Aimee wished she could be the skinniest one in her dance class. Aimee’s ballet teacher actually went over to her house and talked about what happened. Aimee said everyone was telling her she can’t starve herself if she wants to be a dancer because she can’t dance well if she is weak. The idea of NOT dancing freaked Aim out so much that she agreed to go on this special diet supervised by her mom (who is this health nut) and her dance teacher (who is this superstrict crazy lady). Aimee has to write down all her meals and bring some high-protein lunch to school and take vitamins. Sounds gross to me, but she’ll do N E THING to dance.


I don’t think I ever asked, R U a dancer? I am most definitely NOT one. My friend Egg told me once I had the opposite of rhythm, whatever that is.


I’m of course glad she’s OK but NOW we have to figure out a way to convince Aimee’s parents that she should be allowed to go to the Nikki concert. It’s 3 days away. I’m afraid after all this happened, they won’t let her go ANYWHERE. What do u think??? WBS.


Yours till the spring rolls,


MadFinn


Madison hit
SEND
and waited for the message that said her mail had gone through. Then her computer beeped.

She had a message.

: MADDIE, HELP!


: What r u doing online shouldn’t u b in bed or something?


: The worst thing ever has happened


: Worse than u getting sick


: OMG soooo much worse!


: :-6


: Roger wont go


: huh? where


: To the concert! He sez he CAN’T


: Because of what happened in school?


: No, that’s not it. Mom says no prob we can still go 2 the concert except not w/o a chaperone


: What did Roger say?


: He’s busy. DUMBO EXCUSE. I think he has some work or a date I dunno I HATE HIM RIGHT NOW


: Oh no


: OMG what r we gonna do?


: We’ll think of something. I can ask Stephanie my dad’s gf


: THAT’S GREAT


: call Fiona and ask her for ideas


: I did but she’s not online and the machine picked up


: I’ll call her l8r then


: Maddie I feel wicked awful


: Don’t-we’ll think of something


: TTFN


: LYLAS


What seemed like a dream concert was now turning into a nightmare problem! Madison racked her brain to think of other possible chaperones. But they’d been through this list before. No one was cool enough or fun enough or anything that would make sense for the Nikki concert—except Roger.

And now he was
busy.

Phin, who was sitting under Madison’s desk, brushed against her leg looking for a little attention. Madison picked him up and looked into his brown pug eyes as she pet his head.

“What’ll we do, Phinnie?” she cooed.

Phin purred and snorted back at her, as if to say, “You’ll figure it out.”

Madison turned off her laptop and opened her history textbook. She had to read chapters 17 and 18 before tomorrow.

Could learning a little about archaeology take her mind off the concert?

Unfortunately, it couldn’t.

By the next day, the concert-chaperone problem had still not been solved—and Madison felt even worse about it.

By the middle of Wednesday afternoon, Madison and Fiona had asked everyone they could think of to join them at the concert. Mrs. Waters said she would consider going, but Fiona flatly refused that option. She was afraid her mother would drive everyone crazy. Madison asked Stephanie, since she’d already offered her services willingly, but the date didn’t work in Stephanie’s schedule. Sadly, she couldn’t make it.

How could people have other plans? What was more important than a Nikki concert?

Madison and Fiona stopped by the Gillespie house on the way back from school to break the discouraging news to Aimee.

“Can your parents go?” Fiona asked hopefully.

Aimee got a sadder-than-sad look on her face. She told her BFFs than even
her
mom claimed to be too busy to help out. Unfortunately, Aimee’s mom had come down with some feverish stomach flu and couldn’t go anywhere for a few days, least of all a hot, stuffy arena.

It was almost Thursday, just forty-eight hours shy of their concert date. Hope for finding a new chaperone had dwindled down to a teeny-tiny speck.

“I know what this is,” Fiona said in school that Thursday morning. She held up the four concert tickets. “C-O-N-S-P-I-R-A-C-Y,” she spelled it out. “Someone wants to keep us from going. I swear my mom put a curse on us.”