Madison felt like she’d been waiting for junior high forever. There would be new teachers, tougher classes, and extracurricular activities like debate club—perfect for someone like her who wanted to get a head start on lawyer skills. There would, of course, be a whole new crowd of boys and girls from the other elementary schools that fed into The Grove, and all of the eighth-grade boys and girls who would rule the school. That made her nervous.
To tell the truth, Madison admitted to herself, as she brushed her hair again, she was never completely comfortable when she wasn’t in a classroom or on a soccer field. In elementary school, she had been a soccer star and the other students assumed she was self-assured, but a lot of her confident air was a front. She was uncomfortable in social situations and never really felt that she totally fit in. A mother could have told her the way she was supposed to act with boys, but she didn’t have a mom to confide in. And Hamilton was clueless outside of a courtroom.
That’s where Ann came in. With her easy, friendly smile, Ann was at home in any social situation. Where Madison worried about saying or doing something stupid, Ann was spontaneous, and the right words always came out of her mouth. Everyone liked Ann, and with Ann by her side Madison knew she’d be okay.
Grabbing her cell phone, Madison tried Ann again. Right to voice mail. Weird; maybe Ann was sleeping in. Madison threw red, green, yellow, white, and black socks into her soccer bag to be safe, along with her well-worn black cleats, sweaty old shin guards, a shirt, shorts, a water bottle, and a snack of crackers and orange slices. Last but not least, she shoved the latest Max Stone legal thriller into her backpack.
Before she was ready to go, she picked up the picture on her night stand. “First day of junior high, Mom,” she said to the photograph of a tall brunette. “Any words of advice?” Even though she didn’t remember her mother all that well, Madison still found herself missing her, and often talked to her picture. Taking a deep breath, Madison put the photo back on her nightstand. Then she picked up her backpack and ran to her dad’s office. After some cajoling, Hamilton gathered up his papers and followed Madison to the garage, where they got into his black Prius.
The Kincaid house was high in the southwest hills of Portland, and the view on the way down to the city was spectacular on a clear day. The Willamette and Columbia rivers divided Portland into an east side and a west side, and cars streamed over the eight bridges that crossed the rivers. In the distance, Mount Hood towered over the foothills of the Cascade Range. The mountain’s snow-covered peak made Hood look peaceful, but every mountain in the Cascades was a dormant volcano. Mount Saint Helens had actually exploded in 1980, blowing out the side of the mountain and covering the city with ash.
The Grove was at the edge of downtown, a quick ride down the hill. They didn’t talk much on the ride. Hamilton was busy thinking about his new case and Madison was nervous about the day ahead. As they pulled up, Madison craned her neck to see if she recognized any of the kids streaming into the school. She looked hardest for Ann or Ann’s father’s Navigator but didn’t see either. Kissing her dad on the cheek, she jumped out of the car.
“Good luck today! And kick their butts at soccer!”
“Thanks, Dad! See you at the office when I’m done.”
Hamilton drove off, and suddenly Madison was in the middle of a moving mob of junior high school students. She froze, a knot forming in her stomach. Madison had taken a tour of The Grove on sixth-grader visitor’s day, but she had never seen it filled with a thousand students. Compared to her elementary school, it was huge. By sixth grade, Madison was a big fish at Lewis and Clark Elementary School, but here she was a minnow. Would she survive in these waters . . . or be swallowed up?
Chapter 3
The Bully
The Grove had been built in the 1960s and looked it. The wide, locker-lined halls had ugly, red-and-puke-brown-patterned linoleum-tiled floors. Located on the edge of downtown Portland, it had a reputation for being the richest, preppiest, best-for-preparing-you-for-the-rigors-of-high-school public junior high in the city. Many of Portland’s rich kids went to Prescott-Mather, the closest thing Oregon had to an East Coast prep school, but The Grove had its fair share of wealthy students as well.
An eighth grader’s backpack knocked Madison out of her trance, and she realized that she should keep moving. She didn’t want to pull her schedule out in the middle of the hall and look like some baby who had no idea where she was going, so she found the nearest girls’ room and snuck into a stall. Her first-period class was Pre-Algebra in MH 102. Okay, she thought, where’s the math hall? 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.