…
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Madison stared at the monitor, stuck. Her finger was pressing the A key over and over again. She remembered something her English teacher told her once about letting ideas go. Mr. Gibbons said to just “keep writing no matter what lands on the page.” So she wrote whatever came into her head.
Here I am on TweenBlurt and I’m frozen in the fishbowl. Like a big fish stick.
Ick.
It wasn’t exactly the beginning of the scary story Madison was looking for. It was late Saturday morning, and Madison could hear Mom grinding coffee downstairs. The whole house smelled like hazelnuts.
Madison pulled her laptop over to her bed and lay down on her stomach to type. She was tired and wanted to surf the Net a little before going to the mall with Fiona and Aimee.
“Are you kidding me?” Mom shouted, walking into her room. “Look at this mess!”
Madison looked up from her laptop, surprised. “Mom!”
Her mother picked up a pile of clothes from near the doorway and dumped it in a wicker hamper a few feet away.
“Maddie, Aimee’s mom will be here in a little while! Look at this mess! I said no mall until you clean your room—and I meant it!”
“But, Mom … I was just …” She closed the laptop lid and jumped up.
“I don’t want to hear any excuses, Madison Finn. Pick up, get dressed, and get downstairs. And put that computer away! You have ten minutes.”
Mom shut the bedroom door behind her.
Madison knew what to expect when she finally did head downstairs. In addition to a lecture about putting dirty clothes away and keeping her room clean, Madison would also get a minilecture on the perils of “computer overuse.”
Quickly Madison cleaned up. She pushed some papers under the bed and shoved sneakers and shoes into the already overflowing closet. She couldn’t miss going to the mall with friends—and without Mom. Besides, after shopping at the mall, she was going right over to Fiona’s house for their spooky sleepover. She definitely couldn’t miss that!
Madison stuffed some clean underwear, her Lisa Simpson nightshirt, jeans, and a sweatshirt for tomorrow into her bag.
Luckily Mrs. Gillespie was a few minutes late. It gave Madison more time to straighten up all her piles and make her bed neater. She even picked up Phin’s toys off the floor.
When Mrs. Gillespie honked the car horn, Madison had passed the clean room test. She ran out to meet her friends.
Aimee and Fiona were bursting with energy when Madison climbed into the car, bouncing on the seats like they’d eaten way too much sugar.
The mall was crowded when they got there. Before Mrs. Gillespie scooted off to run her own errands, she told the girls to meet back at the North Fountain by four o’clock sharp.
As Aimee’s mom walked away, the three friends bolted for Chez Moi—a casual boutique with faded denim skirts and lace-up boots in the window. Aimee wanted to try on what the mannequins were wearing. Madison wanted to head toward the back of the store, where the hair scrunchies and jewelry were. Fiona stopped and took a camouflage shirt off the rack.
“For the warrior look,” she said, laughing. “Tarzan-ella.”
Aimee grabbed it out of her hand and hung it back up. She pulled out a cropped T-shirt with sequins on the top that spelled FOXY, the same shirt the mannequin had been wearing
“I like this one, don’t you?” Aimee asked.
“My mother would never let me get that,” Fiona said.
“Well, your mom isn’t here and neither is mine. Try it on,” Aimee said, pressing it into Fiona’s hand and taking one for herself and Madison. They scurried over to the changing rooms.
Fiona came out and modeled the T-shirt. Madison could see muscles in Fiona’s stomach, from soccer, probably. Aimee had them, too, from dance. The shirt fit Fiona perfectly everywhere else, too.
“You try it on now, Maddie,” Fiona said, excited. She grabbed Madison’s arm and dragged her into the dressing room.
Madison
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Madison stared at the monitor, stuck. Her finger was pressing the A key over and over again. She remembered something her English teacher told her once about letting ideas go. Mr. Gibbons said to just “keep writing no matter what lands on the page.” So she wrote whatever came into her head.
Here I am on TweenBlurt and I’m frozen in the fishbowl. Like a big fish stick.
Ick.
It wasn’t exactly the beginning of the scary story Madison was looking for. It was late Saturday morning, and Madison could hear Mom grinding coffee downstairs. The whole house smelled like hazelnuts.
Madison pulled her laptop over to her bed and lay down on her stomach to type. She was tired and wanted to surf the Net a little before going to the mall with Fiona and Aimee.
“Are you kidding me?” Mom shouted, walking into her room. “Look at this mess!”
Madison looked up from her laptop, surprised. “Mom!”
Her mother picked up a pile of clothes from near the doorway and dumped it in a wicker hamper a few feet away.
“Maddie, Aimee’s mom will be here in a little while! Look at this mess! I said no mall until you clean your room—and I meant it!”
“But, Mom … I was just …” She closed the laptop lid and jumped up.
“I don’t want to hear any excuses, Madison Finn. Pick up, get dressed, and get downstairs. And put that computer away! You have ten minutes.”
Mom shut the bedroom door behind her.
Madison knew what to expect when she finally did head downstairs. In addition to a lecture about putting dirty clothes away and keeping her room clean, Madison would also get a minilecture on the perils of “computer overuse.”
Quickly Madison cleaned up. She pushed some papers under the bed and shoved sneakers and shoes into the already overflowing closet. She couldn’t miss going to the mall with friends—and without Mom. Besides, after shopping at the mall, she was going right over to Fiona’s house for their spooky sleepover. She definitely couldn’t miss that!
Madison stuffed some clean underwear, her Lisa Simpson nightshirt, jeans, and a sweatshirt for tomorrow into her bag.
Luckily Mrs. Gillespie was a few minutes late. It gave Madison more time to straighten up all her piles and make her bed neater. She even picked up Phin’s toys off the floor.
When Mrs. Gillespie honked the car horn, Madison had passed the clean room test. She ran out to meet her friends.
Aimee and Fiona were bursting with energy when Madison climbed into the car, bouncing on the seats like they’d eaten way too much sugar.
The mall was crowded when they got there. Before Mrs. Gillespie scooted off to run her own errands, she told the girls to meet back at the North Fountain by four o’clock sharp.
As Aimee’s mom walked away, the three friends bolted for Chez Moi—a casual boutique with faded denim skirts and lace-up boots in the window. Aimee wanted to try on what the mannequins were wearing. Madison wanted to head toward the back of the store, where the hair scrunchies and jewelry were. Fiona stopped and took a camouflage shirt off the rack.
“For the warrior look,” she said, laughing. “Tarzan-ella.”
Aimee grabbed it out of her hand and hung it back up. She pulled out a cropped T-shirt with sequins on the top that spelled FOXY, the same shirt the mannequin had been wearing
“I like this one, don’t you?” Aimee asked.
“My mother would never let me get that,” Fiona said.
“Well, your mom isn’t here and neither is mine. Try it on,” Aimee said, pressing it into Fiona’s hand and taking one for herself and Madison. They scurried over to the changing rooms.
Fiona came out and modeled the T-shirt. Madison could see muscles in Fiona’s stomach, from soccer, probably. Aimee had them, too, from dance. The shirt fit Fiona perfectly everywhere else, too.
“You try it on now, Maddie,” Fiona said, excited. She grabbed Madison’s arm and dragged her into the dressing room.
Madison
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