Play It Again (8 page)

M
ADISON GOT TO THE
lunchroom later than usual Tuesday afternoon.

Gilda Z slopped Sloppy Joes onto soft buns.

“Cheese or no cheese?” Gilda asked.

Madison placed her tray on the counter. “No cheese, please,” she said, and moved along down the line with her plain Sloppy Joe. They were all out of strawberry yogurts, so she got banilla instead—vanilla and banana mixed. She’d missed
all
the good lunch selections.

After paying for her food, Madison turned into the noisy cafeteria and inspected the room for her friends. She started back toward the orange table in the rear. To her surprise, all her friends were sitting there.

Plus
Ivy, Rose, and Joanie.

Madison almost dropped her tray.

“Maddie, over here!” Fiona chirped, shoving over so Madison could sit down. But there wasn’t any room on that side. All the boys were on that side. Madison walked around to the other end of the table.

There wasn’t any room there, either.

“I guess I’ll sit over there,” Madison said, moving toward a green table behind the orange one where everyone else was sitting.

Aimee quickly stood up. “No! Maddie, you can fit! Ivy, can you move down a little? You too, Rose.”

Ivy and Rose both pushed their trays down and made room so Madison could sit next to Aimee. They didn’t do it quietly, but they moved. Down at the other end, Egg, Drew, Chet, Hart, and Dan, the kid who was playing the Lion, were too busy playing spitball hockey to even look up.

Never in her life did Madison imagine she’d be sitting at the orange table in the back of the room between her best friend and best enemy. But as her gramma Helen always told her, “Never say never to anything.”

“Where were you?” Aimee asked. “Why are you late for lunch?”

Madison shrugged. “I had to help Mrs. Wing.”

Ivy interrupted. “She’s that computer teacher, right?”

Madison nodded and snapped open her yogurt top.

“That’s nice for you, I guess …” Ivy said. She leaned right over Madison’s tray to talk to Aimee. “Did I tell you that Mrs. Montefiore said we could go ahead and do a dance with our solo, Aimee?”

“What solo?” Madison asked.

“Oh, our duet,” Ivy clarified, sipping a juice. “Didn’t you hear us singing it the other day?”

Rose piped up. “It’ll be the best number in the whole show, Aimee. Your choreography is really good.”

Madison couldn’t believe Rose would ever compliment Aimee on her dance, but she did.

“You and Rose and Ivy are all dancing together?” Madison asked.

“Yeah,” Aimee replied.

“Well, I’m not really that good,” Rose mumbled. “But Aimee’s helping me out.”

“You are
too
good,” Aimee told her.

Madison looked over at Fiona desperately.

Was this really happening?

“Madison, what are
you
working on for the show?” Ivy asked. “I don’t see you at rehearsals much.”

“I’ve been busy with stage managing, Ivy,” Madison said. She couldn’t believe Ivy was sitting
this
close. Madison could tell she was wearing makeup.

“Nooooooooo!”

Across the table, Hart let out a wail. He’d lost his spitball hockey game.

“That wasn’t a penalty. Egg, you stink!” he cried.

Everyone stopped talking.

Hart looked around with a bashful smile.

Madison glanced over at Hart for a second and thought she saw him wink. But seventh-grade boys absolutely don’t wink, especially not in the middle of lunch with a million people around, do they? Madison wasn’t so sure.

The mere thought of Hart winking in her direction made her feel better about being at the table.

Ivy jostled Madison’s arm, and the yogurt cup almost tipped onto the Sloppy Joes.

“Oh, sorry, did I do that?” Ivy said.

Madison wanted to pour banilla on Ivy’s head.

“Hey, Ivy,” Egg yelled across the table. “We heard a rumor.”

Hart spoke up, too. “Yeah, Ivy, we heard a rumor. Are you having the cast party?”

Fiona was spacing out. “I haven’t heard anything. Is it true?”

“Well …” Ivy said coyly to the boys only. “Maybe.”

Madison turned to Poison Ivy.
“You’re
having the cast party?”

“Well, my parents said it was okay,” Ivy said, flipping her hair. “So I guess the rumor is true. It should be great.”

“Cool,” Chet said.

“Is it a cast party, Ivy?” Drew asked. “Or is it cast
and
crew?”

“Huh? I don’t know,” she said. “Cast, I guess. And crew. I haven’t really decided.”

“Well, it really isn’t for you to decide,” Madison muttered.

“Excuse me?” Ivy said.

Phony Joanie clucked her tongue. “I think only people who are really in the show are supposed to go to a cast party, like actors and the director.”

“That’s not true!” Fiona said. “It’s for everyone. It’s for your family and friends who aren’t even in the show if you want it to be.”

“Well,” Joanie said. “That’s not the kind of cast party I’ve been to.”

Madison knew that Phony Joanie had probably never been to a single cast party in her entire life.

“A cast party is for everyone, even people who are behind the scenes,” Aimee said, looking right at Madison.

“The crew—I mean, Madison and Drew—can come,” Ivy snarled. “If they really want.”

She said that like it was the last thing in the world she wanted to happen.

“Hey, does anybody have a dollar I could borrow?” Dan interrupted. “I wanna get another dessert.”

“You already had two desserts,” Chet said. “Like, slow down. Lion Man.”

“I can’t help it. I’m hungry,” Dan said, grabbing a half-eaten brownie off Chet’s tray. “Fine, I’ll eat yours, then.”

Aimee laughed, but her smile disappeared when she looked over at Madison. “What’s that on your shirt?” she whispered.

Madison looked down.

Splat.

The whole time she’d been eating her lunch, her Sloppy Joe had been slopping. There were orange blotches in three different places.

Rose and Joanie snickered.

“Here.” Fiona handed Madison a wet napkin across the table. “You can’t even tell that you spilled it.”

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Madison said aloud.

Ivy snickered, too.

“Is something funny?” Madison turned to her.

Ivy held up her hands in front of her face and shook her head as if she hadn’t laughed.

“Is something wrong?” Madison asked.

Ivy stood up and grabbed her tray. “Not with me. What about you?”

The boys got up to go when Ivy stood. Madison wondered if they did that on purpose.

Even Hart got up. “Looks like this party is breaking up,” he said, grabbing his backpack.

Egg, Chet, Dan, and Drew followed.

Madison wanted to shout out, “Good-bye, Hart,” but it was too late. The boys were halfway out of the cafeteria without turning back.

Ivy and her drones were right behind him.

“That
was totally awkward,” Fiona said to Madison. “Why did you get all weird with Ivy?”

“Because she was being a jerk,” Madison said.

Aimee nodded. “I guess. A little.”

“You guess? A little? I thought you were my friends,” Madison said.

Aimee leaned in. “What are you talking about?”

“If you were my friends, you would not be sitting here at our table with the most popular, most obnoxious, most EVIL people in the school.”

“Maddie, it’s really not that bad. Why are you acting like this? I mean, it wasn’t even a problem having lunch all together—until you came over.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?” Madison said.

“You—you know what I mean,” Aimee stammered.

“You just sat there,” Madison said. “While she and her drones laughed at me.”

Fiona shrugged. “She wasn’t
really
laughing, Maddie.”

“Then what was
really
happening?” Madison tried in vain to mop away the Sloppy Joe on her shirt, but the stains just got worse. “What a mess!”

“Maddie, we’re your best friends,” Aimee explained. “We were just hanging out.”

“Whatever,” Madison said, wiping some more at the Sloppy Joe stain.

“Madison, don’t you believe us?” Fiona asked.

Madison realized she
did
believe them. They were her best friends. But she was still angry. Really angry.

“I don’t mean to be weird.” Madison sighed. “It’s just that I couldn’t believe I would ever find you eating lunch at the same table—at
our
orange table—with Ivy Daly.”

“It’s just that Ivy has been pretty cool.” Aimee put her arm around her best friend. “About the show, I mean.”

Madison was
really
trying to understand.

“She’s being so nice to me and Fiona,” Aimee said.

She’s being so FAKE. Don’t you get it?

She wanted to say that out loud but decided not to say anything.

The three friends got up and started to leave.

“Madison, wait!” a voice yelled from the other side of the lunchroom. It was Lindsay Frost. “I have something to ask you,” she said.

“Hi, Lindsay,” Fiona said.

Aimee waved hello and then said to Madison, “We’ll wait over there.”

“I’m so glad I caught you!” Lindsay was talking fast. Madison noticed that her hair wasn’t combed. She even had a Sloppy Joe stain on her sweater. It was kind of gross. Madison looked down at her own shirt.

“You spilled lunch, too, huh?” Lindsay smiled, pointing at Madison and then back at herself.

Madison held her hands over her blotches. “No, not really.”

Were all eyes in the lunchroom on them?

“Um, did you say you had a question for me?”

“Yes! I was looking for you earlier. I wanted to see if you had time to practice lines with me later,” Lindsay said.

“Later?” Madison asked.

“Before or after rehearsal, I guess. Or if you have a free period.”

“Oh,” Madison said. She couldn’t take her eye off Lindsay’s Sloppy Joe spot. Did her own shirt look as bad as Lindsay’s sweater?

Aimee and Fiona were standing over by the exit doors, waving and waiting.

“Well, can you help?” Lindsay asked again.

“Well,” Madison started to answer. She was about to say, “Yeah, sure, yeah, I’ll go,” but then Aimee make a face. A funny face.

Lindsay was oblivious as usual. Madison wanted to run.

“I’m sorry,” Madison blurted out suddenly. “I’d really like to help … but I can’t. I have so much work for the show and I’m really behind in my classes and maybe we can do it tomorrow?”

“Oh.” Lindsay shrugged. “No, that’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I understand. I’ll see you at rehearsal. Another time, I guess.”

As Lindsay walked away, Madison hurried over to Aimee and Fiona.

Lindsay


Rude Awakening:
Popularity is a war I can’t win.


I watch the other kids onstage and I wonder what’s real and what’s not. People can be such fakers, and when they’re singing and acting it’s even worse. Even people you thought you knew.


That fakeness just continues right off the stage into life, doesn’t it? I should have helped Lindsay today when she asked me. But I didn’t. Dissing Lindsay was more embarrassing than spilling Sloppy Joe on myself in front of Hart and everyone else. It was way more embarrassing than anything I’ve done lately. How could I be so un-nice?


Even when I think I can rise above the whole mind trip about what’s popular and what’s not, I
still
get sucked in by what other people think. I care what they think. Does that make me a bad person?


What happened to being the glue and holding everything together like Mariah said? I am so not holding ANYTHING together right now.


I can’t figure out where I fit in.


T
HE MORNING OF THE
first dress rehearsal, Madison got up extra early to get a head start on some positive vibes. She was up at five-thirty, to be exact. A case of major nerves can sometimes be the best alarm clock in the world.

Phinnie made a snuffling noise and curled into a tighter ball when Madison stretched and slid out from under the covers. But ever so quietly, Madison perched by the bedroom window seat to watch the sun come up like a piece of tangerine candy.

More than anything else in the entire world, Madison wanted to do a good job in
The Wiz.
As she looked out at the sky she made a wish for that … times two … with sugar on top … crossing her fingers just to be sure. Superstitions couldn’t be proved; Madison knew that. But they didn’t hurt.

“Please don’t let me mess up,” she said aloud to the sky. “Please don’t let me miss any cues or drop any props. Please let
The Wiz
be the best show ever.”

By the time the dress rehearsal started, she was readier than ready to watch that wish come true.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Mr. Gibbons yelled. He motioned up to the mezzanine to Drew and Wayne, who were running the lights, to begin. “Is everyone almost ready back there?”

This was the true test. Everyone always says a bad dress rehearsal is good news for the real show. Madison wanted to believe that
both
could be fantastic.