Keep It Real (From the Files of Madison Finn, 19) by Laura Dower Page B

up the definitions in the backs of their science textbooks.
    Madison could barely concentrate. She was distracted by the smell of Ivy’s lip gloss, the chattering of the boys in the next row, the scraping of the chalk on the board, and the squeak of Mr. Danehy’s ugly black shoes.
    How could someone whose mom was so sick be acting so…indifferent? Madison knew that if she had been in Ivy’s platform shoes, she’d be crying or throwing up or something just as stressed out.
    Just the idea of seeing her own mom get sick with something as serious as breast cancer made Madison swoon. It was the worst possible thought in a sea of impossible thoughts.
    Madison wanted to turn to Ivy and ask her what was really going on. Forget old wounds. Forget being sworn enemies. This was more real than all of that. Wasn’t it?
    “Ivy, I wanted to…” Madison started to speak, but her voice faded away.
    “Hey! Guess what happened to me yesterday?” Ivy said.
    Madison’s eyes lit up when she realized that this might be the moment when all would be revealed. Her eyes met Ivy’s.
    “ What happened to you yesterday?” Madison asked cautiously.
    “Well…I got a ticket to see Jimmy J and a bunch of other bands,” Ivy bragged. “The Wallapawooza concert. It’s in two weeks.”
    Madison made a face. “Wallapa-what?”
    Ivy sneered, “Wallapawooza. Hello? It’s only, like, the best concert around. I heard they were sold out in under a half hour, or maybe less.”
    “Gee,” Madison said. She waited a moment longer, to see if Ivy had anything more to say.
    “I bet you wish you had tickets to Wallapawooza,” Ivy said.
    “Sure,” Madison shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
    Madison glanced up and saw Hart looking over from across the room. He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. Madison knew he was directing that face at Ivy. She let out a little giggle.
    “Who are you laughing at?” Ivy snapped.
    “You,” Madison said, giggling a little more.
    “Come on, you’re just jealous because I go to cool concerts and you don’t,” Ivy said with a snarl.
    Madison sat there without responding, because, of course, she was not jealous. Right now she was worried.
    “I know that you wish you had a life like mine,” Ivy went on. “And did I tell you that I get to meet the bands after the concert, too?”
    “Oh?” Madison asked.
    “Sure. My mom made all the arrangements. She’s been working with this really important concert promoter lately, and they made this deal that she can get the best tickets to all the best concerts. Isn’t that cool?”
    “Cooler than cool,” Madison mumbled. She gazed up into Ivy’s eyes to see if her enemy would blink—and let the truth slip. Madison knew Ivy’s mom hadn’t really set that up. But Ivy didn’t blink once. She kept piling on the lies.
    “My mom is so-o-o-o connected,” Ivy bragged.
    “How is your mom?” Madison asked.
    “What do you care?”
    “I don’t know. I just haven’t seen her since you had that school party at your house a while ago and…”
    “Since when do you care about my mother?” Ivy snapped.
    Madison backed off. “It was just a question,” she said.
    “Quit acting jealous,” Ivy said again. “You are so predictable.”
    That night at home, Madison sat at the kitchen table as Mom flew around her, waving spatulas and forks and wooden spoons. Mom was whistling (and Mom hardly ever whistled). She wasn’t wearing any shoes (and Mom always wore shoes).
    Was Madison in the right kitchen?
    “I decided to cook us a big dinner tonight,” Mom said. “A really big celebratory dinner of linguini with sun-dried tomatoes and yellow peppers and…”
    “Mom, what’s all this about?” Madison asked.
    “I’m feeling good tonight,” Mom answered. “No, I take that back. I’m feeling fantastic!”
    “You mean after your date?” Madison asked.
    “Date?” Mom said. “What date?”
    “Last night’s date,” Madison said. “The one you shipped me off to