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  “Nothing, Maddie,” Mom said. “And there’s something else we need to discuss, too.”

  Madison sighed. She knew what was coming next. She’d heard this one before. Mom’s voice got low and soft, like she was apologizing.

  “I have to leave for work again, Maddie. We fly out first thing tomorrow.”

  Madison blinked. She tried not to roll her eyes as Mom went on.

  “It’s just for a few days in Barcelona for a new documentary,” Mom said, the words flying out all at once. “There’s this old Spanish artist, and he’s a recluse, but he just agreed—finally—to let us film him. The crew is available starting tomorrow, so we have to do this right now.”

  “Am I—Am I staying with Dad then?” Madison stammered. “How long?”

  “Just two nights. You have a new room there and everything.”

  “But what about Phin?” Madison asked.

  “Well, I guess it’s better now if he stays at the animal—”

  “No!” Madison yelled. “NO! It’s not fair that you keep doing this! Arrrgh!”

  Madison’s felt her face flush as she struggled to keep from crying. She couldn’t cry again. Not for another Mom business trip. Not for anything. But there were the tears, welling up fast.

  Madison dropped her book bag and ran to her bedroom.

  Chapter Four

  MadFinn: where ru

  AimGill: @dance WH?

  MadFinn: call me l8r @dads

  Texting was fun! And it was a snap on Stephanie’s phone.

  Madison just had to get her own cell. Luckily, her generous stepmother always let Madison borrow hers. She even suggested that maybe Madison would inherit it when Stephanie got her next upgrade. Of course, using a parent’s phone meant not texting things that were NFPE (not for parent eyes), because parents read everything.

  Dad would eventually have to agree to the phone thing. After all, there was a whole list of reasons why it was so important:

  1.Madison was often on the go. A cell phone was the ideal way to talk in between things and let Dad know where she was. A daughter locator! He’d like to call it that.

  2.Madison was practically a teenager now. Every teenager had one.

  3.The homework! She could do homework on her smartphone. (Okay, this was a stretch, but still …)

  For the time being, private communication for Madison would be confined to the computer. At least Dad’s computer was high-tech, with cool gadgets and apps. Typing new documents at Dad’s apartment was way cooler than on her laptop—Madison was even tempted to “write” a file using his voice-recognition software! But today she just went ahead and typed with her own two hands.

  MAYBE

  Maybe feelings are meant to change all the time? I was feeling a little grumpy toward Dad, but now I think his place is nice. Stephanie painted every room a different color, and my room is this golden yellow, like a sunrise or maybe a daffodil. Either way, it’s Perfect with a capital P, especially today, when it’s rainy and gray outside. Plus, Dad framed all my favorite posters of pugs, which is sort of second grade, but I don’t mind. He always tries!!!!

  That’s more than I can say about MOM right now.

  Rude Awakening: If I’m as good as gold (to Dad) then why doesn’t Mom think I’m worth spending time with?

  I get it that Mom’s busy, that work matters so much, that she has to travel. But STILL. She forgot Phin. She forgets half the things I do at school.

  And now she’s gone on another trip??

  Maybe I’m just bummed out more because of the rain today. Or because I miss Phin so much. Today after school I am totally going to GET HIM! Dad said it’s fine to have Phin in the apartment. Yea! And there’s a nice snuggly bed for him to sleep in that Steph got from this Doggy Delights catalog. Amaze-o! Once I see Phin, maybe I won’t feel as mad at Mom?

  Maybe I’ll even make Mom a card or something for when she gets back. …

  The first night at Dad’s went well. Madison’s spontaneous visit (thanks to Mom’s business trip) coincided with a big deadline for Dad, so he spent most of Tuesday in his study. Phin was back at the clinic, doing fine. Stephanie was just getting over a cold.

  On Wednesday morning, Stephanie called Madison to breakfast with bacon signals—well, the scent of bacon, pancakes, and maple syrup all mixed together. Madison could smell food she loved from miles away.

  “What’s going on at school today?” Stephanie asked as she slurped coffee from the oversized mug that said STEPMOMS RULE. Madison had given her that for Mother’s Day last year.

  Madison inhaled a strip of bacon and smiled. “Well, I have a test that I should ace. And I think I have art today. That makes the day a lot better.”

  Art in eighth grade was studio art, which meant easels and aprons and real watercolor and oil paints. They were working on a gourd still life—in honor of autumn, of course. Madison had discovered that she was pretty good at painting. It came as a surprise because she spent so much more time focused on words and computers. She loved the way painting made her feel. She loved the colors.

  “Well, I will be there at three on the dot to grab you. We can head over to the clinic and get Phin, okay?” Stephanie said.

  Madison nodded enthusiastically. “Uh-huh. Thanks for letting him come.”

  “You saw the bed! I love Phinnie. I was thinking maybe we’d even get a pet of our own. Maybe one of those little fluffy dogs, like a miniature poodle or something. Phin would have a brother or sister. And we’d have another distraction around the house. It would be so much fun,” Stephanie said.

  Madison’s heart raced. Another dog? Could there be anything better than that?

  She took a big bite of pancake.

  Dad had left early for the office. Mom’s flight had taken off hours ago for Spain. Madison mused on how funny it felt to be right here, with a person she’d doubted for so long. Her stepmother was now one of the people Madison could depend upon the most. Life dealt funny cards sometimes, didn’t it?

  After breakfast, Madison hopped into Stephanie’s car so they could drive to school. “See you at three!” Madison called out as she got out of the car and bounded across the pavement toward school. Kids rushed in from all directions. The sky was spitting now, not raining hard but still wetting everyone’s heads and book bags enough to be a nuisance.

  As she dashed up the walkway to the school’s entrance, leaves danced in circles propelled by the rainy wind. It was a little cooler than Madison expected. She moved quickly up the steps and then crashed right into a cluster of students who were moving slowly.

  Inside the doors, chaos reigned. Madison slipped through the mess and found a girls’ bathroom so she could fix her hair before homeroom.

  The bathroom had a short line, so Madison had to wait a minute before she was inside, fussing at the sink.

  Ivy exited one of the stalls behind her and came up next to Madison.

  “Hey Ivy,” Madison said quietly.

  “Hey yourself,” Ivy said, washing her hands. She had on a cool layered tank and T-shirt combo, black corduroy leggings, and a pair of Granny boots.

  “Nice outfit,” Madison said.

  “You too,” Ivy said even though Madison was just wearing old, worn-out jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with polka-dots all over it.

  Last year, Poison Ivy would never have complimented Madison’s clothes, let alone Madison’s old clothes. Madison had found them stuffed on a shelf at Dad’s apartment, so she just grabbed whatever was there whether it matched or not. Last night, Madison had left in such a hurry that she decided she would go back the next day to pack her suitcase. Stephanie devised a plan for today: nab Phin, stop at the house to grab Madison’s clothes and Phin’s toys, and then head to the loft for the slumber party.

  “I remember that shirt,” Ivy said. “I had one just like it.”

>   “Oh, yeah,” Madison mumbled. “I remember, too.”

  “You have a crazy sunburn, right?” Ivy said.

  Madison glanced in the mirror. “Mom said I look like a lobster, but I think it’s turning pink. At least I hope so.”

  Ivy shrugged. “In like five minutes, you’ll have a great tan. I’m jealous.”

  “You’re jealous of my sunburn?” Madison said with a smile.

  “No.” Ivy laughed. “I mean, I totally would want to look like a lobster like you.”

  “So nice.”

  “I pride myself on being nice, no matter what.”

  Madison burst out laughing.

  “Maddie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. About yesterday. I was in a bad mood at lunch. And some kids are just so snotty,” Ivy explained.

  Madison shrugged. “Whatever.” What Madison was thinking: How does it feel when someone does it to you, Ivy?

  “Seriously, I know you don’t believe me, but I don’t mean to be obnoxious. Sometimes it just happens.”

  Madison raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

  Ivy smiled. “Really.”

  Madison could feel some major change in the air between them at that moment. She wanted to say so out loud. She felt like she was talking to Ivy as if she were a real friend. If they’d been heading to the same class, they probably would have kept talking and talking.

  Madison had to rush because she’d taken too long in the bathroom with Ivy. She raced off to social studies in room 310 before the late bell rang.

  Once she settled into her desk, Madison caught her breath and checked the SMART board. Her teacher, Ms. Cottet, had put up a list of essential questions that she wanted the class to consider.

  Madison scribbled them down into her notebook.

  What events caused the American Revolution?

  What were the differing views of the Patriots and Loyalists?

  How did these views divide the nation?

  Ms. Cottet cruised around the room, chatting with students as they wrote. Then she took her place in front of the class for the lesson.

  “Okay, everyone!” Ms. Cottet banged on the desk. “Let’s look over the chapter and the vocabulary for this unit. There are terms I want you to work on. I have a cool new project that will use your writing and art skills and get us talking about this period from history in a new way.”

  Madison’s ears perked up. She’d only just been thinking about loving art.

  Ms. Cottet explained that the project was about propaganda. She quickly wrote a definition from Merriam-Webster on the board as a reminder. A history teacher like Ms. Cottet always cited her sources.

  Propaganda

  noun pro·pa·gan·da ,prä-pə-'gan-də, ,prō-

  ideas or statements that are often false or exaggerated and that are spread in order to help a cause, a political leader, a government, etc.

  “So what does this mean?” she asked the class, leaning back on her desk. “Why was using propaganda an important tactic during the American Revolution?”

  A bunch of hands flew up.

  “It convinced people to take up their arms.”

  “It made the British look bad.”

  “It promised freedom. Freedom is awesome!”

  Everyone fake-cheered. Ms. Cottet grinned.

  “Wait!” Fiona threw up her arms to answer. “I don’t get it. Weren’t all the people who came over here patriots?”

  “No!” Ms. Cottet said. “Ahhh, excellent point! There were many loyalists who wanted to colonize our land but still be ruled by the English. So that leads us back to the question: Why is propaganda important? What do we say, and how do we say it?”

  Madison furiously took notes. She wanted to ace this project. Her goal for eighth grade was 95 percent and above on everything.

  “Let’s take a look at some examples of propaganda from the time and talk about how it worked—or if it worked. Then we’re going to create our own examples of advertisements that serve as propaganda. You should choose one: either the loyalist or patriot side.”

  She dimmed the lights to show the class a nifty PowerPoint presentation that flashed examples of actual advertising from colonial times, cartoons from Ben Franklin’s Pennsylvania Gazette, and other primary sources.

  As she was writing, Madison thought about the power of a revolution. She stared up at the board and looked right through it in a foggy daydream.

  Right now, she was in the middle of a revolution with Mom, wasn’t she? She thought about Mom leaving on a jet plane and Phinnie nearly losing his little life the other night. Things had gotten so complicated again.

  In Madison’s world, Mom was the loyalist! Dad was the patriot! So which one was Madison siding with?

  Did she secretly want to overthrow the governing body—aka Mom—and form her own, like maybe in Dad’s apartment? Had the Big D continued to unleash its share of uncomfortable and awkward life situations? Why was Madison smack-dab in the middle?

  “Ahhhhhh!” Madison wailed.

  Ms. Cottet turned toward Madison. She raised a suspicious eyebrow and slithered over.

  “What’s going on back here?” Ms. Cottet asked. “Let’s try a little harder to focus, shall we?” Ms. Cottet tapped her hand on Maddie’s desk.

  “I’m sorry.” Madison slid deeper into her seat and back into real time. “I was just—”

  “You’re going to be tested on this. Pay attention,” Ms. Cottet said. She caught Egg and a couple of other boys snickering and went over to give them a piece of her mind, too.

  Up on the SMART board, the presentation continued. How embarrassing. She hated being called out by teachers.

  Then Ms. Cottet showed a cartoon Ben Franklin made that said, “Live Free or Die.” It showed a snake cut into pieces. Each piece represented a part of the colonies.

  The class talked about how something like this would have made a loyalist feel.

  “Awful!” cried one girl from the opposite side of the room. “I mean … who wants to die?”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Yes.” Ms. Cottet smiled. “That was the idea. Almost like a threat. You better join—or else. No one wanted to do the wrong thing.”

  Ms. Cottet clicked off the presentation and turned up the dimmer on the classroom lights.

  “Now,” she said, passing out some pages to fill in, “here is a document you can use to take notes. I want each of you to pair up. Let’s see …” Ms. Cottet went around the room to answer questions while everyone picked partners. But when she got to Madison, almost all the kids were already teamed up. Fiona went with some dorky boy in the seat next to hers!

  “Sorry, Maddie!” Fiona said. “You know I wanted to be with you, right?”

  Madison shrugged. What else could she do? She leaned over and tapped Egg on the shoulder. “Want to be partners with me?” she asked.

  “Nah, I’ve got Drew,” Egg said.

  Madison rolled her eyes. How could she not have a partner? Just like that, everyone had gotten matched up with someone. Except for her.

  Grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

  Ms. Cottet told Madison to just work on her own for now and perhaps she could move into another group if she was having trouble. What choice did she have? Begrudgingly, she put her head down and started to brainstorm ideas for her solo propaganda assignment.

  “Students, you must include at least two historically accurate reasons and relevant artwork to win supporters for your cause,” Ms. Cottet added. She kept repeating the directions as she circled the classroom. “Begin by brainstorming the pros and cons of being either a loyalist or a patriot.”

  Madison made a T-chart and started to fill it in. She’d been practicing her funky script lately. With all the time on the computer, she liked actually writing down stuff, too.

  PROS

  Loyalist—ge
t support from England, don’t have to worry, spend lots of time farming my land and I like things the way they are, don’t like war, don’t like change at all, you can’t take what’s mine!!!

  Patriot—want change, want to be independent, have a right to the land of the wealthy landowners, think government run by a king is worse than run by military, cool names like “Rebels,” “Liberty Boys,” “Sons & Daughters of Liberty,” “Colonials,” and “Whigs.” Who doesn’t want freedom and democracy? And no unfair taxes!!!

  “Madison, are you all right on your own?” Ms. Cottet asked as she passed.

  “I’m cool.” Madison shrugged. “I am an only child, after all. I get stuck on my own a lot.”

  Ms. Cottet glanced at Madison’s notes. “Hmmmm. You have been paying attention. Keep it up.”

  “I’m trying to think creatively like you told us,” Madison said.

  “Well,” Ms. Cottet placed her hand on Madison’s desk, “you’re one of my best students, and I have complete faith in you.”

  Warmth rushed into Madison’s cheeks and gave her the fuel she needed to plow ahead. Her notes were scattershot, but she kept writing. Doing good work made everything else feel better—until Egg opened his big mouth of course.

  “Teacher’s pet,” Egg whispered to Madison.

  “Bug off,” she said back to him.

  The class was abuzz with writing. With everyone’s heads down, not even the teacher heard or saw the classroom door swing open. A girl gracefully strode over to Ms. Cottet with her shoulders thrown back. She handed the teacher a yellow pass from the school office.

  Madison looked up from her notes. The new girl was pretty. Her thick black hair ran down her back in a massive braid. She wore a colorful tunic over jeans with patches sewn up the side and had a navy blue backpack slung over her shoulder. Her Converse were rubbed off in all the right places, too. Madison could tell she was an athlete, maybe a dancer or a gymnast, from the way she stood up so tall.

  “Class,” Ms. Cottet announced, “we have a new student joining us today. I’d like you to meet …” She looked over at the new girl. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?” Ms. Cottet asked.