Read Online All Shook Up (From the Files of Madison Finn, 22) by Laura Dower - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Dower
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almost too crowded with two girls in the small room at once, but Madison loved being there. Her mood improved instantly as they lay across Madhur’s bed, legs waving in the air. Then Madhur pulled out a thick photo album.
“This is a photo of my grandmamma when she was little,” Madhur explained, showing Madison a small picture of a young girl, half dressed, smiling, standing next to a wide river. Next to the girl, a cluster of Punjabi women kneeled by the water washing clothes.
“She looks so small, standing there,” Madison commented. The sepia-toned photo had been taken in Punjab more than seventy years before.
Madhur flipped through the pages. There was an incredible array of photos of India and Pakistan and of many generations of Singhs, taken over the years. Madison thought about her own photo albums at home. She didn’t have photos of exotic places—not like this. There were some pictures that had been taken on Mom’s film shoots, but nothing seemed as impressive or as exciting as Madhur’s family album.
Madison dreaded the thought, but it popped into her head nonetheless: was her life boring ?
Of course, Madison was grateful for everything she had, and of course she had lots of people in her world who loved her, and of course she did some interesting things. Mom’s job had afforded Madison the opportunity of traveling some. But she didn’t have all these cousins or grandmothers or uncles or even pets. She didn’t have stories like the ones Madhur’s grandmamma told.
Madison tried to keep up as Madhur continued with her running commentary on the places and people in the photos. After a half hour, the subject finally switched to homework. The girls remained stuck on what topic to choose for the project. There were many issues, affecting the whole world. What would theirs be?
“MADDIE!”
A booming voice roared upstairs.
“Who was that?” Madison asked.
“My brother,” Madhur grumbled. “He’s such a loudmouth. I guess it’s suppertime. We should go.”
Madhur hopped off the bed; Madison followed. They went downstairs and back into the kitchen, where many different-size plates and bowls and steaming hot cups of rice were spread across a patterned table runner. There was that pungent, warm, spicy smell again.
Mmmmmmmm.
Mr. Singh appeared, still a little groggy from his nap. He had a beard and mustache, although he did not have much hair on the top of his head.
“Aha!” Mr. Singh announced, taking a seat at the head of the table. He smiled broadly at Madison. “At last! Our guest of honor has arrived.”
Madhur nudged Madison and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry. My dad likes to make a big deal. He won’t bite.”
Madison took her seat at the table next to Madhur. Jahan sat directly across the table from them both, but he didn’t say much. He seemed to be wearing imaginary headphones, trying hard to tune out everyone else. Mrs. Singh sat at the opposite end of the table from her husband and began to serve food onto a plate.
“So, Madhur tells me your name is Maddie, too. Does that make you sweet lightning, too?” Mr. Singh laughed.
Madison looked bewildered, but Madhur cleared things up immediately.
“Dad’s talking about my first and middle names, which are Madhur Damini. That literally means ‘sweet lightning.’ Dad always says I have this special spark. Cheesy, right?”
“Not at all. My middle name is just Francesca. I have no idea what it means, or what ‘Madison’ means, for that matter.”
“You should look it up on TweenBlurt!” Madhur said brightly.
Everyone dug in to the dishes. Madison spooned little tastes of the tandoori chicken, lentil daal, palak paneer, biryani, lamb kebab, and more out onto her plate. She’d eaten Indian food before, of course, but nothing that compared to this meal. Everything tasted delicious. Or maybe the company made it so.
At some point during dinner, the family conversation turned to school. Madhur reported on how she
“This is a photo of my grandmamma when she was little,” Madhur explained, showing Madison a small picture of a young girl, half dressed, smiling, standing next to a wide river. Next to the girl, a cluster of Punjabi women kneeled by the water washing clothes.
“She looks so small, standing there,” Madison commented. The sepia-toned photo had been taken in Punjab more than seventy years before.
Madhur flipped through the pages. There was an incredible array of photos of India and Pakistan and of many generations of Singhs, taken over the years. Madison thought about her own photo albums at home. She didn’t have photos of exotic places—not like this. There were some pictures that had been taken on Mom’s film shoots, but nothing seemed as impressive or as exciting as Madhur’s family album.
Madison dreaded the thought, but it popped into her head nonetheless: was her life boring ?
Of course, Madison was grateful for everything she had, and of course she had lots of people in her world who loved her, and of course she did some interesting things. Mom’s job had afforded Madison the opportunity of traveling some. But she didn’t have all these cousins or grandmothers or uncles or even pets. She didn’t have stories like the ones Madhur’s grandmamma told.
Madison tried to keep up as Madhur continued with her running commentary on the places and people in the photos. After a half hour, the subject finally switched to homework. The girls remained stuck on what topic to choose for the project. There were many issues, affecting the whole world. What would theirs be?
“MADDIE!”
A booming voice roared upstairs.
“Who was that?” Madison asked.
“My brother,” Madhur grumbled. “He’s such a loudmouth. I guess it’s suppertime. We should go.”
Madhur hopped off the bed; Madison followed. They went downstairs and back into the kitchen, where many different-size plates and bowls and steaming hot cups of rice were spread across a patterned table runner. There was that pungent, warm, spicy smell again.
Mmmmmmmm.
Mr. Singh appeared, still a little groggy from his nap. He had a beard and mustache, although he did not have much hair on the top of his head.
“Aha!” Mr. Singh announced, taking a seat at the head of the table. He smiled broadly at Madison. “At last! Our guest of honor has arrived.”
Madhur nudged Madison and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t worry. My dad likes to make a big deal. He won’t bite.”
Madison took her seat at the table next to Madhur. Jahan sat directly across the table from them both, but he didn’t say much. He seemed to be wearing imaginary headphones, trying hard to tune out everyone else. Mrs. Singh sat at the opposite end of the table from her husband and began to serve food onto a plate.
“So, Madhur tells me your name is Maddie, too. Does that make you sweet lightning, too?” Mr. Singh laughed.
Madison looked bewildered, but Madhur cleared things up immediately.
“Dad’s talking about my first and middle names, which are Madhur Damini. That literally means ‘sweet lightning.’ Dad always says I have this special spark. Cheesy, right?”
“Not at all. My middle name is just Francesca. I have no idea what it means, or what ‘Madison’ means, for that matter.”
“You should look it up on TweenBlurt!” Madhur said brightly.
Everyone dug in to the dishes. Madison spooned little tastes of the tandoori chicken, lentil daal, palak paneer, biryani, lamb kebab, and more out onto her plate. She’d eaten Indian food before, of course, but nothing that compared to this meal. Everything tasted delicious. Or maybe the company made it so.
At some point during dinner, the family conversation turned to school. Madhur reported on how she
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