Seven.

Madison Bell was not at school on Friday. In Biology, no one seemed to take much notice of her empty seat. Finally, halfway into the lecture, I leaned over to talk to Ellen. We weren’t close, but when you sit next to someone every day for four months you build a sort of bond.

“Where’s Madison?”

“Dunno,” she shrugged. “Worried about your paper?”

“No, not really. I was just wondering.”

“She misses a lot. It’s not that weird.”

She missed a lot of school? That sounded weird to me.

Amanda Simmons sat near the front. She was a weirdly popular athletic girl with the confidence and tact of a semi truck. I knew her and Madison were friends, but then again, who wasn’t Madison’s friend? Did she have a best friend, like I had Polly?

When class ended, I took the initiative to get to the front of the classroom. As the twenty-nine students shuffled impatiently through the door like sands through an hourglass, I made sure Amanda was just beside me.

“Madison’s not here?” I asked. She gave me a strange look, maybe deciding whether or not I was worth acknowledging. Amanda and I were not in the same social circles. Maybe this breech was an act of war or something. Why was I going to such lengths for this girl anyway?

“No, she’s out today.” In the end, after her internal conflict, Amanda sided with an amicable approach. Maybe that had something to do with Madison herself. She was a remarkably positive influence on high schoolers.

“Do you know why?”

“We don’t hang out a lot.”

Another dead end.

“Do you know if she has any other friends I could ask?”

“Are you stalking her or something?” Amanda was getting annoyed, that much was obvious.

“Uh, no. She’s my project partner.”

“You’ve got a week. Chill out.”

The crowd broke and Amanda took one path down the hall with the brunette who wore two hair clips. I stood against the wall in defeat. Damnit, why was I so worried?

At lunch, alone in the Writing Workshop, I sent her a text.

<< Hey are you sick? Want me to get your homework?

I sighed and put my head down on the desk. After a minute, I sent another text. This one, to Polly.

<< Meet in the workshop?

Polly came bearing Little Debbie’s snack cakes and juice boxes from the cafeteria line. She put them down in front of me and took a seat on the other side of the table.

“Well damn, Jamie. You look to be in good spirits today.”

I stuck out my tongue and opened up one of the snack cakes. I was so hungry; I hadn’t had breakfast.

“So what’s up? Are we going to that movie tonight, or did you want to go to the football game?” I groaned. Football games were boring. More boring in November. It was the last one of the year.

“What do you know about Madison Bell?” I asked her through a mouthful of cake.

“That she’s annoying, says you. And that she’s a giant ball of sunshine, says everyone else.”

“Anything else?”

“Nope. I’ve only met her like, twice. But she’s hard to forget.”

Hard to forget. That was the best way to describe Madison. I sighed.

“You seem uncharacteristically interested in this girl,” Polly said around her juice box straw. “You smitten with her?”

“No,” I said coldly, shoving another snack cake in my mouth. Smitten? Who even talks like that?

“Then what’s up?”

“I think something’s wrong with her.”

“This again?” Polly sighed. “People are allowed to be happy, Jamie. It’s not the end of the world.”

“No, that’s just it.” I had to think about what I was saying before I said it. I had to make sure I used the right words. “I think maybe… she’s not happy.”

“And what has you thinking this?”

I sighed. “I don't know. It’s just a feeling. It’s little things. Like her smile, or the way she talks. I can’t figure it out yet, but…”

“Yet?” Polly asked with a smile. I frowned at her.

“Shut up.”

“You are smitten!”

“You’re an ass.”

“No, really, I think it’s good! I think you should take an interest in other people. And hey, if Sunshine can rub off on you, all the better.”

Polly didn’t get it. Then again, I barely understood it myself. How far would I go for one feeling, with no evidence, with no motivation? Why should I care if Madison Bell is unhappy? I shouldn’t.

But I did.