The Memory Book

Maddie: YES.

Maddie smacks her own ass, and then smacks mine.

END SCENE



As was evidenced, Maddie desires Sammie’s presence in order to make their partnership stronger, therefore making them better debaters. Sammie’s acquiescence in this matter will make her a more effective debater, thereby moving her closer to her goal of winning Nationals, therefore she will go to Ross Nervig’s party.

My second point asserts that Sammie’s parents will give her permission to go to the party because Maddie is a first responder as well as a fellow debater. Because of Sammie’s medical situation, in order to go anywhere with her parents’ permission, Sammie has to think about the conditions and prevention of her own death (thanks, Dr. Clarkington!).

Sammie can also tell her parents she’s going to a debate party. Historically, debate parties mean root beer and Trivial Pursuit in Alex Conway’s basement, which does not pose as much of a threat of death as a traditional “alcohol and no parents” party. However, because Sammie will attend Ross Nervig’s party with Maddie, technically it is a debate party, so she would not be lying.

Because she will be in the presence of a trained saver of lives, and attend, for all intents and purposes, a “tame debate party,” Sammie will have her parents’ blessing, and therefore, Sammie will go to Ross Nervig’s party.

My third and final point is simply a screenshot of the text Maddie sent just minutes ago:

Maddie Sinclair: Anddddddd Maddie Sinclair: Guess what I heard?

Maddie Sinclair: Your old flame is gonna be there Me: Who?

Maddie Sinclair: Stuart Shah

Therefore, Sammie will go to Ross Nervig’s party on Friday, April 29.





THE UNEXPECTED PARTY


So here’s why I’m regretting this:

Stuart Shah is coming here, to Maddie’s house, to this very room, before we all go to the party. She just decided to drop that little bomb when her mom pulled out of the driveway.

Stuart is a friend of a friend, Maddie told me.

Stuart had become super close with Dale when Dale played Rosencrantz to Stuart’s Hamlet.

And Dale’s friends with Maddie.

And Dale and Stuart are coming here.

My stomach is a washing machine.

Earlier we picked up my siblings after school and waited until my dad got home from trimming trees. While I made us a quick dinner of spaghetti, Maddie played with my sisters out in the yard.

Bette roamed around the perimeter, yelling her questions, and Maddie yelled back answers while throwing a Frisbee to Davy and/or Puppy, whoever got to it first.

Then came the whole CPR-certified thing. Maddie still didn’t know I was sick, and at the risk of her thinking I couldn’t handle Nationals, I had to keep it that way.

So I did some James Bond shit. As Maddie was outside, I asked her for some gum. She pointed to her bag and invited me to dig around. I dug. Instead of gum, I pulled her Red Cross CPR-certified card out of her wallet and slipped it into my jeans. While the spaghetti boiled, I went to the family desktop, scanned it, printed it, and then returned it.

Dad came home. I followed him into my parents’ bedroom, told him my plans, and showed him the scanned certificate.

He pretended to examine it really closely like he actually knew what he was doing. He even put on his bifocals and took it to the desk where they pay bills and held it under the lamplight. I was like, Cute, Dad.

After leaving a message on my mom’s cell, we came here to Maddie’s place in Hanover, where I told Maddie’s mom, Pat, that yes, Maddie would be spending the night with me and therefore would not be home at curfew.

Maddie stood behind her in my sight line, giving me a quiet thumbs-up, which made me feel cool and rebellious. Pat gave us both a kiss on the cheek and went out to eat with her book club.

Maddie’s room smells like how I think Lothlórien, the elf realm from Lord of the Rings, would smell. Like burning wood and lavender and kind of like dirt. She has leafy plants hanging from every corner, succulents in little glass terrariums in rows along her windows and desk and dresser, a skinny tree in a big ceramic pot. Her stereo speakers take up almost a third of the wall, blaring synthesizers, and she roams back and forth from the bathroom in her bare feet, wearing boxers and a tank top, hair in a towel.

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