Luckily all seventh graders got a map of the school with their schedules. Memorizing the location for MH 102, she left the bathroom, trying to look like a confident girl who knew exactly where she was headed.
As she walked to the classroom, Madison searched the halls for Ann. She saw tons of casual friends from elementary school and greeted all of them with a smile and a wave. There was a lot of “How was your summer?” and “Can you believe we’re in junior high?” but no Ann in the halls—or in MH 102. This worried Madison because they were at the same level in math. Then she remembered that there were a few sections of first year pre-algebra and decided she was being silly. The Grove was big and the day had just started.
By the time lunch rolled around, Madison was really worried about Ann, so it was a great relief to see Lacey, one of their friends from sixth grade, when Madison walked into the cafeteria. Lacey shrieked and ran to hug Madison, her blond ponytail bobbing with each step.
“Maddy! Isn’t junior high the best? So much better than elementary school. The guys here are amazing. Love your jeans!”
“Um, thanks,” Madison stammered. “Yeah, the first day has been okay for me. . . . ”
“Grab your lunch. Jessi and Becca are already outside.”
Madison looked down at Lacey’s tray, which contained a salad and a diet Coke, then eyed the pizza bar. She should probably get a salad like Lacey, but she was hungry, and soccer tryouts were in a few hours. Grabbing a personal-size pizza and a carton of orange juice, Madison followed Lacey and her small salad outside.
Students were seated in clusters on the lawn, and surprisingly Lacey and her friends didn’t look like baby sixth graders who had snuck onto campus. Madison said “Hi” to Becca and Jessi. She had been away at soccer camp and hadn’t seen them all summer. Anyway, they were more Ann’s friends than hers. Now, without Ann, she felt out of place. They chatted a bit about their classes before Madison got to talk about what was bothering her.
“Have you seen Ann?” Becca asked Madison.
“No, I’ve been looking for her all day. Has anyone seen her?” Madison asked. The other girls shook their heads.
“Hasn’t she been in Europe all summer?” Jessi asked.
“Yeah, she’s been traveling with her dad. But the strange thing is, she hasn’t emailed, texted, or called me, even though she must be back by now, and I’ve left messages on her cell and emailed but never got anything back.”
“She hasn’t called me, either, and her Facebook is way out of date,” Becca said.
“Yeah,” Lacey added. “Her latest picture is way old, like from May.”
“She probably couldn’t email from Europe,” Jessi said. “Do they even have email over there?”
“Duh, Jessi, of course they have email in Europe. It’s not Mars,” Lacey said.
“I bet something happened in Europe,” Madison said worriedly. “Maybe she was kidnapped.”
All the girls laughed.
“She was probably having a great time with French or Italian boys and was too busy to email or text back home,” said Becca, who had actually kissed a boy and was the expert on anything to do with the opposite sex.
“If she was meeting boys, she would have definitely emailed me,” Madison said, a pit growing in her stomach. “Something horrible might have happened. Her dad is a scientist and he’s really weird. Maybe she was kidnapped by criminals who want a formula he discovered, just like Max Stone’s
“Honestly, who is this Max Stone?” Jessi asked. “Can’t you read normal books?” Madison blushed. She adored the Max Stone novels.
“You always think the worst has happened,” Becca said. “It’s ’cause you hang out with your dad too much.”
“Remember in second grade,” Lacey chimed in, “when Madison announced to the whole class that Jessi had been murdered, because she had found a bloody Kleenex in the girls’ room and Jessi wasn’t in class?”
“And I was at the nurse’s office because I had a bloody nose,” Jessi said.
“That’s not fair,” Madison said, embarrassed. “You
“Or she just might have decided to skip the first day of school to get over jet lag,” Becca said.
“Are you Madison Kincaid?” someone said.
Madison looked up and saw three eighth-grade girls standing over her. The biggest girl was the one who had spoken. She was two inches taller than Madison and twenty muscular pounds heavier, and she was giving Madison a look of pure disdain.
“Yes,” answered Madison, trying to sound confident even though she was nervous.
“I hear you’re supposed to be a hotshot forward.”
“That’s the position I play.”
“Not any more. I’m Marci Green and I
Marci’s friends sneered at Madison. Becca, Jessi, and Lacey were silent, not knowing how to respond. Then Marci turned her back and walked away with her gang in tow. Madison could hear them laughing as they disappeared from view.
Chapter 4
A Nightmare at Soccer Tryouts
By the time eighth-period science rolled around, Madison had started to get the hang of junior high. She’d figured out where her classes were, where the seventh graders hung out, and where the eighth graders ruled. But she still hadn’t seen Ann, and she was convinced that something bad had happened to her.
When you grow up in a house where a call from prison in the middle of the night is not an odd occurrence, and murder weapons are discussed over cornflakes, you tend to think the worst. And Madison was thinking the worst when she slid into a random seat in her eighth-period science class. She was so preoccupied with imagining ghastly scenarios that she only half heard the teacher drone on about how great science class was going to be— something she ordinarily would have been excited about.
“Hey,” a voice whispered, “you okay?”
She looked up. The boy sitting next to her was tall and gangly with clear green eyes, a smattering of freckles across his nose, and ginger-colored hair that spiked in places and was pressed flat in others.
“I guess,” she whispered back, not wanting to attract attention.
“What word is always spelled incorrectly?” he said. Madison was thrown off. She began cycling through words in her head, puzzled.
“Um, I don’t know,” she said quietly.
“Incorrectly!” he whispered. Madison was stunned for a moment and then, against her will, let out a giggle and rolled her eyes.
The teacher stopped talking and stared at Madison.
“I hope I’m not interfering with your tete-a-tete, Miss . . . ?”
“Uh, Madison. Madison Kincaid,” she answered, feeling her face turn tomato red.
“And your gentleman friend is?”
“Jake Stephenson, sir,” the boy answered.
“Well, Miss Kincaid and Mr. Stephenson, do I have your permission to continue?”
“Sorry,” Madison mumbled. Ann was temporarily forgotten. This really wasn’t the way she wanted to end her
