Chapter 8: The Break-in

I had already accepted that I was going to get caught, probably by Madison’s parents. They probably wouldn’t press charges; I wasn’t going to steal anything.

I would have had to take precautions anyway, doubly so with my cursed condition. It was more about what I didn’t bring with me than what I did. I left my phone at home because it would probably go off. I didn’t wear a jacket or backpack because I knew it would get caught on something. I mentally rehearsed my route over and over again, timing in my head how long it would take me to get in and out. I really hoped they didn't have a security system.

I arrived at the house during the school day when everyone was out of the house. I dug up the spare key I had seen Bert use. It took me a little longer because pinecones kept falling on my head. Not just one or two pinecones, but a steady stream of them, as if I had offended a whole family of squirrels. Finally, I reached the key and went through the side door to avoid their Ring doorbell.

My hands were shaking so bad at first I thought I had the wrong key. I tried again. Even though I was gripping the key with all my strength, it slipped through my fingers and rolled into a sewer grate. Okay, plan B. Bert had his window open last time I was there. I checked and saw that it was still open. In theory, maybe I could slide the screen up and climb inside. What actually happened was that when I put the tiniest bit of weight on the screen, I fell right through.

I lay on the floor for a second, gathering my thoughts. It could have been worse.

I limped over to Madison's room, favoring the leg I hadn't injured during my fall.

I had expected her room to be stark and efficient, but it was delicate-looking, with rose colored walls and intricate-looking arts and crafts everywhere. I was definitely going to break something.

I went over to what looked like her diary laying open on the dresser. My foot caught a rope and I fell. I realized she had set up a tripwire. Normally, I could have avoided it, but with this terrible luck, I had tripped and fallen into a large box full of glue and feathers. I must have looked ridiculous trying to squirm my way out of it, half of my shirt catching a staple and tearing off in the process. I must have taken too long to get away, because I recognized a familiar figure in the doorway. Madison.

“I knew it!” she said, “I knew you were trying to spy on me.”

“Would you believe I stopped by to say hi?” I asked.

“No,” she said, “I came home when I realized you weren't at school because this is exactly the kind of thing you would do.”

I looked around. There's no way she'd leave her real diary out like that. It was clearly a fake. The real one was probably in her backpack. I had an idea.

First, I used my clumsiness to my advantage, falling directly onto Madison, knocking her into the glue and feathers.

“Oh, no. I'm so awkward,” I said. And then while she was figuring that out, I stole her backpack and ran. Limped is more accurate.

She caught me, of course, but I had one more trick up my sleeve. I “accidentally” dropped her backpack, spilling books and other contents everywhere. Then I watched her. She was definitely looking for something she didn't want me to see. Her gaze landed on a small, inconspicuous notebook. She grabbed it and I tried to take it from her. But of course, that's not what happened. It ripped in half. The right thing to do would be to apologize, to help her fix it. Instead, I took my half and ran. There had to be some clues in here about why Madison hated me so much.

Chapter 9: Dear Diary

By the time I got home, my mom was back from work. She looked wordlessly at my torn shirt and the feathers and glue covering my body as well as the ripped notebook I clung to my chest like a precious treasure.

“Art class was really fun today,” I told her and ran up to my room before she could ask if I was okay again.

I started flipping through the diary, looking for any clues as to why Madison hated me.

“The sunset was so pretty today…”

Nope.

“I really love dalmatians…”

Not interested, blah, blah, blah.

“I hope that someone gives me a bouquet of carnations one day.”

I filed that away in my mind for apology offerings.

“Only my friends know, but there's this boy I like…”

I paused. Had I maybe embarrassed her in front of this mystery boy? I continued reading.

“I don't even know why I like him. He doesn't know I exist.”

I had an idea forming. If I could maybe set her up with this guy, maybe she'd be so grateful she'd break the curse. But who was he?

I was almost at the end of my half of the journal. The guy had said he'd meet her at the dance, but he never showed up. Why was she pissed at me and not that guy?

I decided to press my luck and email Chelsea.

“Hey, who was supposed to meet Madison at the school dance?”

“You absolute jerk, you of all people should know. And if you ever bring it up around her, she'll strangle you. And if she doesn't, then I will.”

What was with these girls? I of all people should know? So what, was it one of my friends?

I should say former friends. Everyone pretty much kept their distance from me after the curse and I was too busy just surviving to care.

The next day, I sat at the lunch table looking around, trying to figure out who Madison liked. What I was not expecting was that Madison's angry chihuahua, Chelsea, would come up to me and slap me across the face.

“What was that for?” I asked. Her tiny hand kind of stung.

“Madison told me what you did! She won't even come to school now!”

“What, is she afraid I'm going to tell the guy? Apparently my half of the notebook didn't tell me who it was. All I know is that she likes flowers and pretty sunsets.”

“Oh, wow, you still don't know, do you? Wait until I tell her you're too dumb to figure it out.” She pulled out her phone and started texting Madison.

“Hey, I'm not the bad guy here,” I said, “I thought that maybe if I set Madison up with this guy, she'll leave me alone.”

“It's pathetic how little you understand,” Chelsea said, snapping a picture of me, “Madison's going to love the fact that you couldn’t get all the feathers out of your hair.” I put my hand to my hair self-consciously. I was definitely missing a piece of the puzzle.