It was hot and humid city, with no swimming pool or splash pad in sight for seven miles. Too bad we moved there in the summer. On top of that, our complex had such a promising name- Golden-Oak Apartments -but the whole place was lower than low. Nasty water dripped from gutters, and if you drank it you would probably die. The whole complex, every single inch of it, was as gray as a foggy day. Rats ran, racing each other down the concrete halls, their tiny feet trying to keep quiet as if the place was a nuthouse. And it almost was:

full of crazy people with crazy stories who somehow managed not to kill their crazy kids. First thing I did when we got there was go on a long walk to introduce myself, as a representative from the family, to every single neighbor. I handed out jam, which was still warm from my mother stirring it nonstop all day the other day. The last house on my list was probably the strangest.

     "Hi, my family and I have just moved in here. My name is Madison, here's some homemade jam", I said cheerfully, masking my fear. This house wasn't pretty- none of them were -but it looked the most messed-up. I shivered at the thought of living there. The man standing at the door looked about my age, almost. He frowned at me, looking me up and down. It felt uncomfortable, probably because he was a teenager too. I blushed, and my heart seemed to beat faster, trying to take it to my cinnamon cheeks. "Yeah, whatever. What do you want?" he grunted. How typical. He rubbed his left eye like I had rudely waken him up from a map. "Just saying hi. We're number 2422." He tilted his head, eyeing the jam. I watched him, my chestnut eyes joining his in scanning the jam. He finally looked up. He stared into my eyes, leaving an imprint on my soul like branding cattle. "You're to good for this place," he said, and my world was torn into two.

      In the beginning of September I started going to the closest high school. Frankly, Turner High was just your average, sugar-coated, movie-setting, boring old high school I was half expecting someone from High School Musical to pop gut and start shouting some song. The guy from the jam incident wasn't there, which was strange, because from the looks of his house, there was a good chance he didn't have a car. Oh well, I thought, it doesn't really matter.

     The rest of my day wasn't that special. First period: Boring. Second Period: Lame. Third period: Embarrassing. Fourth period: A tragic excuse for a choir class. Lunch: Sad. Horrible food. You get the main idea. I was pretty elated to be able to leap onto my soft, downy bed after the long day. I love you, comfort.

  A few days of yawning and laughable food later, the principal announced that the school was hosting an "icebreaker" party in congratulation of the football players and cheerleaders making the team. "That's right folks," Principal Obely announced, "both Turner High School and Javelins Secondary will be at this party!" The gym rumbled with boos from all the grade levels except for me and one other guy. I still don't know who he is, but at the time I sort of admired him silently rebelling against the standards. I must go to this dance, I thought, no matter what.

  Surely, you must know that all these events add up to one huge event: Madison getting a date, maybe, or possibly you find out that I've actually had a boyfriend this whole time? Maybe Madison is secretly married or she has ten sisters at home? I'm sure that's what you want, and although I really, truly want you to be happy and pleased with my little tale teenaged follies, you'll probably be pretty disappointed by this: None of that happens. I didn't even touch anyone that night, not that I wanted to. I don't know what I really wanted to do that night. I probably just wanted to get out of this crummy place and back home, where I was popular, surrounded by friends. Where I had everything...

   "Mom! I'm home!" I said as I entered the doorway, letting my backpack collapse on the floor. "I'm in the kitchen. Help me with dinner," she answered. My baby sister Juniper was asleep in a soft blue sling that was strung around my mother's back. The radio station played softly in the background as my mother chopped up bell peppers for a salad. "Try not to yell next time," she advised, slicing the peppers so slowly she didn't make a sound. "Can you boil some water?" I grabbed a saucepan and turned on the faucet. "Is Emilia home yet?" I whispered, watching my mother brush the brightly colored vegetable bits off the table and into a small plastic bowl. She did it with such grace and precision it looked like she was not cooking for her family, but for the world. "No," she said in a soft voice, trying not to wake her youngest daughter. "By the way," she continued, "I heard that there was a dance at your school? Is this true?" I turned off the faucet, blushing. "Yes..." I didn't look at her. Why am I embarrassed? I thought, nervous. "I mean, yeah, can I go?" My mother tilted her head in concentration of her radishes she was carefully rosetting. "Yes, of course, why not?" she said. I smiled. "Thanks," I replied.

   Then it was then. The party. The festivity, the bash, the blowout, the occasion. The party. Maybe you've been to a high school party, and maybe you know what happens there. Or maybe you haven't, and you have no idea what happens. Well, I'll tell you one thing: There's a lot that can happen at a high school party, but none of it happened to me, luckily. It was normal from the start: There were boys, there were girls, there was food, there was music. A normal, stereotypical party. I was actually enjoying myself until someone walked up to me. It was Noelle Lemons, enjoying herself in her cloud of friends. She always reminds me of who I used to be, back home. That is exactly why I loathed the sight of her. "Well, if it isn't Miss Madison. Wisconsin called, they're looking for their city," she laughed. I tried to ignore her, but she kept on blazing. "Hey, there's a guy here, says he's from your same third-rate, cheap, rotten old apartment. Golden-Oaks, right? On Grurry and Third?"  I nodded. Then, like a miracle, like a scene from a perfect life, the crowd parted, and there he was, holding a chip, alone. My eyes widened to the size of bell peppers.

   It really was him. I strided through Noelle's entourage of friends, pretending to be as prissy as they all were, lifting my chin up to the moon, walking towards him. "Hi," I said. "Hi," he replied. "So... you go to Javelins Secondary..." He was dressed really nicely, with a corsage and everything. I didn't want to say it, but I kind of thought that he was, well... really low. There, I said it. But maybe that one time was an exception. I just don't know what to think about him anymore. We both looked at each others feet. He wore sneakers, which were all black, so they passed. I just wore ballet flats. Also black. We were about a yard away from each other. I looked into his eyes, icy blue and almost unreal. They were framed by his perfect, spotlessly clean face, which was framed by his shiny, blondish-brown hair. He moved a foot closer. He looked so, well, handsome that I couldn't take my eyes off him. I pinched my arm- hard -to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Wow, I thought, do I actually like this guy? Yes. I did. I could feel it in my heart and in my soul, and as cheesy as it sounds, it was true. He was it. The one. Mine, all mine. My heart started thrashing against my rib-cage, desperate to get out and shout, "I love you!". It was amazing. I thought I'd swallowed something, maybe my heart, and yet it felt so good that I could've just laid down on the floor and died. But I didn't, I was still just standing in front of him. Maybe someone took some scissors and cut my heart loose. It was like that, or my heart was singing. He smiled in the faintest way possible and put one foot out in front of him. "Madison," he said. My heart took off into an opera, reaching high C as he stepped one foot closer to me. If my bones were made of glass, i would be a bag of flesh on the floor. "I've never told you this, but I think you're really--"

   Suddenly, a screeching voice interrupted him. "Luke! Where have you been?! Who's this girl?" Luke looked at her with eyes of fear. "Isabel," he started to say in a calm voice, but was soon cut off. Isabel turned towards me, her green eyes glaring. "You! I don't care who you are, where you live or even if you have a heart or not, but you are never, ever going to talk to my Luke again!" Isabel screamed, stabbing me right through my heart. "Goodbye!" And with that she took Noah by the hand, away from me, disappearing from my sight and my life. I stood, in shock, surrounded by people who don't even know what grade I was in, who wouldn't care if I was hit by a car tomorrow. I was crushed. Two minutes later, my eyes met the floor, gushing tears into my beautiful blood-red dress. Nobody noticed a thing.