The next afternoon, I still couldn’t believe it. I was stuck riding to taekwondo with Madison just because Dad forgot to take his car in for repair when the brake light came on. He’d written himself a note. I saw it myself! This was all his fault.
Madison was in the front seat. (Thank the stars.) A pile of department-store bags took up half of the back seat. I climbed into the car and shoved my gym bag at my feet. Madison gave me a weak hello, and I muttered one back.
“Thanks for giving me a ride, Mrs. Green,” I said to Madison’s mother, remembering Dad’s instructions.
“Oh, please, sweetheart. Call me Cookie!”
I wondered if that was her real name or a nickname. But I figured it might be rude to ask so I just said, “Um. Okay.”
Cookie gave me a sparkly toothy grin in the rearview mirror, turned up the radio, and backed out of my driveway.
I was glad the music was loud because that way I didn’t have to talk to Madison. The two of us looked out our windows while Cookie sang along to songs on WQFM80.5, the Awesome Eighties All-the-Time station.
At a red light, Madison’s mother turned down the radio and declared, “My heavens. You two are awfully quiet.”
When Madison and I didn’t respond, Cookie kept talking. “So, Eliza. Are you looking forward to starting middle school?”
I lied and told her I was. Adults never want to hear the truth about these kinds of things anyway.
“You’re lucky,” Cookie said. “Madison is so nervous about it.”
I was surprised. After all Madison had plenty of friends and always made the honor roll.
Cookie glanced over at Madison. “Speaking of which, when are we going shopping for your back-to-school clothes? Things are on sale now, and you obviously didn’t like what I picked out for you.”
Cookie threw a disgusted look at the bags in the backseat when she said this last part.
“That’s because you pick out ugly stuff,” Madison said.
“Well, forgive me for trying to spoil my only daughter and broaden her fashion horizons,” Cookie said in that I’m-teasing-but-I’m-really-kinda-mad way parents sometimes do.
Madison sighed. “I like the clothes I have.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cookie said. “You can’t very well go to school wearing the same thing day after day.”
I looked down at my shorts and used my hand to cover a stain. Every Day Eliza popped into my head.
Madison and her mom stopped talking.
Cookie gave up on Madison and came back to me. “So, Eliza. Are you going to try out for any teams or do any clubs in middle school?”
I wasn’t, but Mom said answering just “yes” or “no” was rude. So I said, “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Maddie Pie hasn’t decided yet, either,” Cookie said.
The back of Madison’s neck turned pink. “Mooomm!”
“What?” Cookie asked. “The name? Oh, for goodness’ sake. I’m sorry.”
Cookie sat up straighter and looked in the rearview mirror with a grin. “You didn’t hear that, right, Eliza?”
“No,” I said. (What else was I supposed to say?)
“See. No need to be embarrassed,” Cookie said. “Besides, if you want to be embarrassed about something, it should be giving up cheerleading to concentrate on a sport like taekwondo.” Cookie winced. “No offense, Eliza,” she said in a cheerful voice.
Madison looked at her mom and opened and closed her mouth a few times, kind of like a goldfish. But in the end, she didn’t say anything. I was too surprised to say anything, either.
Hadn’t Cookie ever seen Flying Ninja Girl break a board or watched Master Kim go through a form perfectly?
And didn’t she know how good Madison was at it?
Cookie went back to singing with the radio, and Madison and I went back to listening to her in silence.
“Have fun, you two,” Cookie said when she dropped us off. “I’ve got some returns to make. I’ll be back in an hour.”
As Cookie pulled away, Madison looked at me and then down at her flip-flops. “Sorry about what my mom said. She thinks taekwondo is for boys.”
Madison Green just apologized to me for something. Who is this? I wondered. Sometimes people have evil twins. Maybe Madison had a nice twin instead.
I was so shocked, I just shrugged my bag higher up on my shoulder. “That’s okay,” I said. “I have a mom, too.”
Madison looked up and gave me a half smile. “Thanks,” she said.