What About Judy

By Sandra Jane Maidwell

All Judy wants to do is concentrate on making Maddock (Maddy) Madkins fall in love with her, which shouldn't be so hard; after all, they share the same interests, don't they? Such as skateboarding. But how can she concentrate on anything when her best friend is moving to France for a year, her father is suffering from M.A.D.D., and her mother decides that living in Nebraska with her new boyfriend is far better than living with Judy and her eight-year-old sister?

Somehow Judy must get her father working again, take care of her sister, help a friend in need, and manage a boyfriend, who may or may not even like her. And where does she fit in to all of this? Somehow Judy will have to figure it out for herself, and maybe, just maybe, she'll get it right.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Jane Maidwell
• Release date: Oct 20, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310064715

Sandra Jane Maidwell

Sandra Jane Maidwell was born and raised on the small island of St. Maarten in the Caribbean. She has travelled extensively, but her favorite place is being home with her children, husband, and many pets. She loves writing and has published several books for young adult and children. Sandra's hobbies include watching movies, reading, walking her dogs, and running.

Book preview

WHAT ABOUT JUDY?

By Sandra Jane Maidwell

Copyright 2014 Sandra Jane Maidwell

ISBN: 9781310064715

Published by Sandra Jane Maidwell at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintended by the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 Sandra Jane Maidwell

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighter materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized additions.

For Sara

Table Of Content

Title

Dedication

About the Author

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 1

"People are pretty forgiving when it comes to other people's families.

The only family that ever horrifies you is your own."

(Douglas Coupland)

I am sitting in my second period of history class trying my hardest to listen to Miss Ginger; trying not to bite my nails; trying not to gaze out the window at the flagpole; trying not to think about Maddock Madkins, a.k.a., Maddy.

I honestly don’t know why I’m in love with him, and if you were to ask me, I would have to admit something completely stupid, like it’s his smile, or it’s the way his blond curls fall in front of his face when he tips his head down to read in class, or maybe it’s the way he slumps behind his desk blocking the aisle with his left leg.

But, the truth is, Maddy is not very handsome. He’s tall and lanky, and although he does possess a great smile—that part is absolutely true—he hardly ever uses it. Maddy keeps to himself, and I think he wants to be a writer or a poet, because he scribbles in this notebook all the time. It’s the flip kind, so when he finishes a page he quickly flips it and starts again on the next. It’s almost irritating the way he does it; but, because I am definitely in love with him I don’t think I’m going to let it bother me. I mean, he must be writing something important to be flipping so quickly. Anyway…

Yes. I most definitely love Maddy Madkins.

Chapter eighty-one, The Defeat of Napoleon, Miss Ginger’s words sound throughout the essence of my brain. Have a great weekend, she almost sings to us, as we grudgingly pack the books we are to torture ourselves with during our great weekend.

I have to admit my definite satisfaction when I see that Maddy has a troubled face too. Yes, he’s a bookworm, but what does he care about Napoleon? This is undeniable truth that the assignment is pointless. My intuition was correct, and I have decided there and then that I am just not going to do it. Miss Ginger can take her red hair and her thin salmon colored smile and take a hike!

Um, Miss. Maddy is heading towards her desk. What’s that he’s saying? I near them both, trudging my ten-ton bag of books along with me.

What is it Maddy? she asks with the face of a patient angel.

Well, I’ve already read those pages and was wondering if,—slight cough—I could make my essay on the Napoleon Code instead?

What?

Maddy, that’s so interesting. Miss Ginger looks as if she’s about to be force-fed an over-sized sausage. But Maddy, she says sweetly, I really do need you to be answering the questions in the planned tests. The fact that you’ve already done the reading means you have more time for your weekend now, doesn’t it?

She keeps looking at Maddy—my Maddy!—and she’s smiling this insane smile that says: can I please start my weekend now? And I just want to punch her in the face!

Um, OK, Maddy mumbles, and grabs his books and leaves.

I, of course, am left standing there facing the most mind boggling decision of all time: do I still love Maddy even though he has proven to be a complete and utter nerd or do I hate Miss Ginger more for being so insensitive to the man I love?

I choose to postpone the thought and run to meet my sister, Jodey, at the corner. She is only eight and if I’m late I will never hear the end of it from my mother.

I shouldn’t have worried. Jodey is as slow as a snail on tryptophan. I have to wait a total of seven minutes for her, and her class is just two rooms away! Correction: I have to wait seven whole minutes until I actually see her, and then I have to wait another two whole minutes for her to drag her feet to the corner, where I am wearing a hole out in my shoe from tapping my toe so impatiently for a total of nine whole minutes! And still I am no closer to solving the problem of Maddy. The Napoleon Code? What was that anyway? Was it a code of honor, or some sort of military oath? I would have to look it up. I guess that meant I still had the hots for him, but why? Why did I love Maddy?

Finally, the sister arrives! I say to my youngest of kin. I bump her with my arm, but instead of bumping me back like any normal moron is suppose to do, she yelps and makes this grumpy face.

Whatever! I yell at her and start walking towards the bus stop. Of course Little Miss Late is trudging behind me as if we’re off to Death Camp II, and I see the bus pulling over and I know we have to hurry now.

Jodey! If we end up walking again then I’m going to let you have it! I say, and I expect some action, but she just looks painfully at me as if I’m a terrible monster. I can see that she is trying to hurry in her way, but she just can’t seem to pull her feet and her bag along fast enough. Maybe it’s her coordination, or her lack of it, or her brain cells not connecting the two tasks together, or something totally explainable.

Hurry! I yell this time. The bus is going to leave!

I am hurrying, she whines back at me, in a way that forces me to slow down and breathe out heavily.

And, there the bus goes. Kids wave at us from the back window and I give them two fingers.

Jodey stops tugging her bag and looks exhausted. I have to admit that I’m a little worried and make a mental note to say something to our mother. Or maybe I’ll Google it. Is it normal for an eight-year-old to be exhausted all the time? One person would tell me yes and another would basically say she has some sort of Tropoluptosis and that I should see a physician immediately to avoid imminent death.

I’m hungry. I hear her complain beside me as we both watch yet another yellow bus in our lives disappear around the corner. Perhaps that’s why she’s so tired—not enough food. I would have to see what mother was packing these days. God knows all I got today were a couple of Oreos and some sort of Hawaiian fruit punch that tasted just about a million years old.

I look down at her and feel that twinge of worry again. Suddenly I just have to get her something to eat; and then there he is.

Maddy! Maddy wait up! I yell hysterically. He’s on the other side of the road trying to be inconspicuous to mankind.

Maddy! I yell again, this time not so much the damsel in distress but the older sister determined to get a snack—no matter what!

Oh. Hi Judy. What’s up?

He knows my name! Do you have something to eat? I think my sister’s about to faint.

Are you serious?

Um, yeah. I think so.

Maddy looks at Jodey and Jodey looks at Maddy. Then Maddy looks at me and I look at Jodey. Then I look at Maddy and he’s looking right at me! No one is saying anything and I want this moment to last forever, except Little Miss Starving is moaning and now I have to look at her again.

I give Jodey’s hand a gentle squeeze and tell her it’s going to be OK, not so much because I am that sisterly but because it looks good and might actually make Maddy move his butt across the street and take the situation seriously. And he does, dodging cars and holding tightly to a backpack that is probably causing irreparable damage to his shoulder.

Jodey stares up at Maddy with big starving puppy dog brown eyes as he reluctantly fishes in his bag for something edible. At last, he pulls out a rather squashed Milky Way and Jodey takes it gingerly to inspect.

Thanks, she says and tries to open it, which of course she can’t, because eight years doesn’t seem to be adequate enough time to master the factory secrets of the candy bar. I pull it impatiently from her and tear the thing open. I hand it to her again and turn to Maddy, trying desperately not to seem too grateful—but also not ungrateful—my goodness the world is complicated!

OK, so I’m walking with Maddy now. Cool. You’re a life savor, thanks What did I just say?

It’s nothing, Maddy smiles a bit shyly.

You walking? I ask. Oh, my gosh! Of course he’s walking, Dummy Head!

Um. Yeah. I don’t live too far.

I know! We’re walking too, I say. Bus got away. I cough laugh and wait for him to say something like, hey, we can walk together. But he doesn’t and we all just start walking together anyway.

So, you’re into Napoleon? I ask, hoping he’ll reveal that his great, great, great grandfather was a general in Napoleon’s army. But he just shrugs and answers, I guess so. I mean, it’s pretty fascinating, and The Code is really important stuff. Miss Ginger hasn’t talked about it at all.

Well, what does she know? I scoff. I mean she’s just going by the book, right? OK, so genuinely interested in Napoleon then.

I guess so.

Silence

I feel better, Jodey pipes in suddenly, and I am forced to remember her. She does seem to have more color in her face. I give her head a pat and turn back to Maddy, determined not to lose this opportunity to make an impression on him.

So, going to Susan’s Halloween party this year?—Just to fill you in, Susan is the most popular girl in our class and usually has a party for every occasion. She’s blond, thin, rich, and yeah, on the cheerleading team. And just to annoy everyone even more, she’s quite smart too.

One thing I must credit her for, though, is that she tends to invite everyone to her parties, so that even the un-wanted dorks like Maddy and myself end up showing our faces.

Maddy slows down and then stops. I stop too and pull Jodey to a halt.

Are you going? He asks with these blue eyes that are suddenly invading my own.

I—I guess so, I stutter like an idiot

Silence

We start walking again, and suddenly we are in front of Maddy’s house. I recognize it from watching it these past few months as the bus whizzed by always too fast. It is a soft yellow color, and the front door and window shutters are a mahogany brown wood. I quite like his home with its array of scattered wild flowers in the garden and others in Mexican style pots, placed strategically—or not—on the porch steps and railings. I usually catch sight of a forgotten skateboard or a rake or some other garden item, and today is no different.

You skate? I ask, eyeing the skateboard on the grass.

Yeah, you?

Yeah, sure, all the time.

Really?

Really, really.

He looks at me, sizing me up.

Have you ever been to the Mountain Rink? I ask.

Nope. I skate over by West Side.

I know West Side. It’s free, and there are all sorts who go there. I’m not allowed anywhere near it on account of the pickpockets, the drugs and booze, or the necking. Take your pick, my mother chooses any one at random and sends me to the Mountain Rink, which costs five dollars of my own money and is as exciting as playing a game of tennis.

I go on Wednesdays, he says nonchalantly, looking up at the sky as if it might rain any second.

I mentally note that there are five more days left until next Wednesday.

OK, see ya, he says as he stoops to unlatch his gate.

See ya, I reply, a bit hurt that he is ending our conversation so abruptly, and also not sure if See ya means See ya at school or See ya at West Side. I head off quickly, as if talking to him meant as much to me as a pile of books on the Napoleon Code. But of course Jodey whimpers and I slow down again.

This will require some sort of strategy, and I mentally make a note of challenging my father to a game of chess that night. A good game of chess always opens my mind to possibilities.

Chapter 2

Check and checkmate!

What?

It’s checkmate. My dad is grinning and already reaching for the remote control. He has been waiting for Japanese Samurai Warriors to start and probably beat me so quickly on account of it.

I need to play again, I say adamantly.

Sorry kiddo, but game’s beginning in two minutes. Look, its Sacuri, The Devil Chief, against Cassandra, The American Gymnast. If Cassandra fails this one she’s out for good.

But I need to have another game. Please. You can watch and play me at the same time. I try pouting.

Doesn’t work like that, Love. You’d win on account of my being distracted and your victory would be undeserved, resulting in feelings of unjustifiable glory and guilt from your part. I just couldn’t do that to you.

But you’d happily beat me in three minutes in order to watch a game?

Yup.

I’ll play with you, Jodey offers from the kitchen table where she is lining up bottle caps she steals from cafes, restaurants, and the street.

Um. Not now. I have to do some research. I wait for my father to tell me I have to play with her, but he has already got his eyes glued on Cassandra and her steroid thighs and