Vanishing Acts

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.

“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 Project Murder, where the daughter of the rich industrialist was kidnapped so the spies could trade her for the plans for the super computer.”

“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 could have been murdered. Okay, maybe I was wrong about that, but this is serious. Ann could be tied up in a basement in London!”

“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 own that position, so you better get used to riding the bench, if you even make the team.”

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.