The Maddie Diaries Read online

  Text a friend that you miss her/him. It can really make someone’s day to know you’re thinking about them (include a smiley-face emoji). I know it makes mine.

  Try a new food, something you’ve never tasted before. I ordered this curry apple chicken salad today from Lemonade, a California cuisine restaurant that does takeout, and it was surprisingly yum.

  Act like a little kid. Kenzie and I just went to Disneyland for the day and spun around on the teacup ride until we were dizzy. It reminded us how much we used to love the park when we were little. I also went to the American Girl doll store to pick out some stuff for my little cousin. I really missed that place, especially the salon where they pierce the dolls’ ears. The point is, find something you used to love to do when you were younger and do it—read your favorite Dr. Seuss book, break out the crayons and coloring book, watch the Disney Channel (incidentally, I just found Hannah Montana On Demand on my TV the other day and watched for two hours straight!). Doing any of the above makes me feel really sentimental and happy.

  I was only a year old when my mom broke the news to me that I was going to be “a big sissy.” I’m sure I had no idea what that meant at the time, but nine months later, when Mackenzie was born, I got it: She was part of our family, and I loved her with all my heart. I kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. I would squeeze her so tight that she would turn bright red in the face—she looked like a tomato. My parents would have to pry her out of my arms. To me, she was a little doll, a toy to be cuddled and played with. I didn’t understand that she was actually real and I had to be gentle because she was so tiny and fragile. As she got a little older and learned to talk, she never stopped. And I mean, never—Mackenzie is always talking, singing, bossing me around. She has a knack for interrupting whenever I’m talking, and if I’m telling a story, she has to correct it: “Nuh-uh, that’s not how it happened . . .” Whenever my dance friends come over for sleepovers, she tries to wriggle her way into the party—which makes me furious. They’re my friends, and I want to spend private time with them.

  “Can’t you go hang out with your friends?” I ask her.

  But what’s mine is hers—that’s what she thinks, anyway. Even if she doesn’t like what we’re doing, she still wants to be a part of it. My neighbors and I recently decided we would go see the horror movie The Conjuring 2 and Kenzie insisted she wanted to come along.

  “You’ll hate it,” I told her. “You’ll be terrified and cry.”

  “Will not!” she told me. “I’m not a baby.”

  So off we all went to the movie theater, my sister trailing along. The previews for some upcoming horror movies started and she was already hiding her eyes and climbing in our laps. Fifteen minutes into the movie—before anything creepy had actually happened—she was under her seat, petrified. She crawled out and started walking—actually running—from the auditorium.

  “Wait!” I called after her. “Where are you going?”

  “Home!” she said. It turns out she had texted my mom and stepdad to come pick her up in the theater parking lot. She couldn’t stand the movie for one more minute. I hate to say it, but told ya so!

  Mackenzie gets to do a lot more than I was allowed to do at her age—she has much more independence, and I think that’s because I broke my mom in for her. I’m a teenager and she’s still twelve, but she still gets to do practically everything I do. She’s always gotten away with a lot more than I have. Part of it is her being the baby of the family; part of it is her being so good at manipulating people and situations. It’s a talent, and as much as it annoys me, I’ve grown to accept it—or at least marvel at Mackenzie in action.

  I remember when we were little, she’d hit me really hard for no apparent reason then race downstairs and find my mom before I could tell on her.

  “Mommy!” she’d cry, “Maddie hit me!”

  Total lie, but she was incredibly convincing, an Oscar-winning actress. I got yelled at every time for beating up my little sister when she was the one hitting me! My mom is probably reading this right now and saying, “Oh my gosh! I never knew that!” That’s how good she was at fibbing.

  The kid is a troublemaker. Go ahead and ask her and she will admit it. She’s actually proud of the fact. She is always the one saying, “Hey, I’ve got an idea . . .” and I’m the one warning her, “No, we’re gonna get in trouble.” I’m the voice of reason and she’s the voice of crazy. Like when she wants to play Ding Dong Ditch (when you knock on a door and run away) when we’re staying in a hotel. I say no, she says yes, and somehow, even though I was trying to talk her out of it, I get caught and scolded. You would think I would have learned after all these years, but no! Kenzie gets me every time. She’s also always flipping around. She literally cannot stand still without doing a cartwheel, a backflip, a somersault, an aerial. I think she’s happiest upside down.

  That’s kind of our relationship: She’s the fun one, and I’m the serious one. People ask if we fight. We’re sisters; of course we fight. We fight all the time. But we also forget what the fight is about five minutes later. That’s the way it goes, and I know it drives my mom and my stepdad, Greg, up the walls to hear us bickering, but most of the time it’s over silly stuff like who said what, or who did what. Kenzie always wants my opinion on things. My mom says I should be flattered, but I’m worried that when she’s grown up, she’ll be driving on a road and call me up: “Maddie, do I go right or left? What do you think I should do?” I want her to learn to stand on her own two feet, and to have her own opinions, likes, and dislikes. I don’t need her to take mine! A lot of our arguments have to do with the fact that she expects me to share everything with her—my clothes, my makeup, even my food—and she doesn’t like to share any of her things with me. It’s a double standard. She likes me to do everything for her—like she’s still the baby—and gets really impatient if I say, “Can you just wait a sec?” For example, this morning I was in the middle of eating my breakfast, racing to get to a warm-up class I was leading, and she comes into the kitchen and demands I do her hair for her. I literally had to drop everything I was doing “or else.” I’m not sure what the “or else” was—probably that she would go run and tell my mom or Greg that I was being mean to her—but I did it. Sometimes it’s just easier to let her have her way—there’s less whining involved. When my mom hears us arguing, she’ll tell us to stop, and we always say, “We’re not fighting,” even if we are. So I don’t think she knows half of what really goes on between us. If she did, we’d both be grounded for at least a year!

  I have to be careful sharing any secrets with Mackenzie. She’ll keep them, but then one day she’ll hold it over my head and threaten to tell—unless I give her something she wants, like a shirt in my closet. I always wonder how she gets away with everything, even things that make no sense. One day she called me from Pittsburgh when I was in New York working.

  “Maddie, guess what? I got a pet chicken.” My jaw literally hit the floor.

  “You what?” I knew she and her friend had been talking for a while about how much they loved little baby chicks, but I didn’t think she’d go through with it. It’s not like we have a farm in our backyard! The song is “Old MacDonald,” ee-i-ee-i-o, not “Old Mackenzie”!

  “You did not. Stop lying.”

  “Did, too,” Mackenzie insisted. “You can hear them!” She held the phone up and I heard “Cheep! Cheep!” in the background. She wasn’t kidding. This is what happens when I go off to film for a few weeks?

  “Mom is gonna freak,” I told her. “Does she know?”

  “They’re in a pen in my friend’s living room,” she assured me.

  “They? There’s more than one?”

  “Well, the farm said we had to take six . . . and they’re all so cute and little and fuzzy!”

  This went on for about two weeks, with Mackenzie convinced she was going to teach them to lay eggs and we’d have fresh omelets every day for breakfast. The chicks started growing into chickens, and Kenzi
e’s friend’s dad had to build a bigger pen outside. Eventually, they gave two of the six away so they’d have enough room—and they wouldn’t eat both families out of house and home. So now we had four chickens cooped up in her friend’s backyard, getting bigger by the day. Kenzie loved and fed them and took care of them, until we made a shocking discovery: Three of the four were male roosters, not female chickens.

  “You mean they can’t lay eggs?” Kenzie asked, pouting. Major disappointment. Eventually, all the chickens/roosters went to live on a farm, where they were much happier. I couldn’t say the same, though, for my sister. In her mind, this was an epic fail. I tried to convince her that normal people don’t keep pet chickens in the house, but she will never admit she was wrong. Ever.

  If I want to annoy Kenzie it’s pretty simple: I hug her. She hates when I squeeze her super tight in a bear hug and she gets all squirmy. But just recently, I’ve noticed our relationship has started to change. We were on a FaceTime call the other day (FYI, we never FaceTime, so that alone was a rarity), and she was home in Pittsburgh, and I was out in L.A. shooting So You Think You Can Dance: The Next Generation. We talked for a really long time, without fighting even once. We talked like friends, not sisters. When she finally came out to L.A., we were so happy to see each other, I even got a long hug without her trying to wriggle away. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. I guess that’s true, because we really, truly missed each other and were so glad to be back together. But I also think we’re growing up and we realize that some things are worth fighting about and others aren’t. Do I like when Mackenzie “borrows,” aka takes, and doesn’t return my favorite mascara without asking my permission? No. But is it worth not speaking to my sister over? Not really. It’s just a thing, and people are more important than things. Family is most important of all.

  When we were younger, I would protect Mackenzie, holding her hand and making sure she didn’t trip or fall or bump into any walls when she was learning how to walk. I would spot her on the monkey bars until she got so good on them, she didn’t need my help. If she was scared or sad or crying, I would put my arms around her, rest her head on my shoulder, and tell her it would be okay. Today, I feel like she’s fiercely protective of me. If someone makes a nasty comment aimed at me, she is the first to race to my side to defend me. I remember one time, a girl in school was being mean and hurting my feelings. I felt bullied, and without telling me, Kenzie took my phone and texted her, “She didn’t do anything, cut it out.” At first, I wasn’t thrilled that she a) stole my phone and b) sent a text behind my back. But then I thought about it: That was pretty brave of her to stand up to that girl. It took a lot of courage and a lot of caring. Though she would never admit it, I know Kenzie would do anything for me. She’s not one to get all mushy and say she loves me, but her actions speak louder than words.

  My mom got us these gold Jennifer Meyer necklaces for Christmas that say SISTER. We never take them off. Though she drives me nuts, there’s a lot I admire about my little sister, and a lot I can learn from her. She’s a free spirit, and she always sees the humor in every situation—even the ones that are frustrating or confusing. She’s always optimistic, and if someone isn’t having a good time, she knows how to make one happen. She has a hard time taking no for an answer (especially when I’m the one saying no), and I actually think that’s an amazing quality to have. She sees what’s possible, even if it’s not in front of her face. She’s hilarious—she makes me laugh so hard my sides hurt. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without her in it. I can’t imagine going through everything I’ve been through these past several years without her there on the journey with me—even if she bugged me sometimes (okay, a lot of the time!). She looks up to me, and because she does, it makes me want to set a good example for how to act, treat others, and live my life. We push each other to be better people all around, which I think is what sisters should do.

  Like it or not, Kenz, you’re getting a hug when I finish writing this.

  I know it’s my book, but I had to give my little sister a chance to say something . . .

  Kenzie: A FEW THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT MADDIE

  She thinks she’s always right. And she isn’t. I know, because I’m never wrong. She thinks she knows best and I should just do what she says and not question her. But if I did, I’d have a bead stuck up my nose. When I was three and Maddie was four, we were playing under a table and she had one of those little plastic beads you put on your bracelet. “Watch this,” she told me. She stuck it right up her nose. It was funny at first, but then it wouldn’t come out. I mean, it was really up there and we got kind of scared—not that Maddie would have to go to the hospital to get it out, but that my mom would be mad at us. Just then, she sneezed, and out it popped. That was a close one, and I’m so glad I didn’t follow her example.

  She pushes me in a good way. Not many fourteen-year-olds could say they’ve accomplished so much at a young age. Maddie is a really hard worker. I don’t know if I would ever want to work as hard as she does (it makes me tired just thinking about it), but it’s shown me that you have to apply yourself. The only way to reach your goals is to put in the time and effort. My mom always tells me that, but Maddie is living proof. She’s an inspiration to me.

  As far as sisters go, she’s pretty cool. Even though we’re opposites. We have different styles; she usually wears jeans with Adidas, but I like to dress more sporty. She loves to dance and I like to sing (FYI, she can’t carry a tune, so that’s totally my thing and she can’t have it). I like to have fun, and Maddie gets mad when I’m joking around and she’s trying to concentrate. I think she’s really good at doing hair and makeup, so I ask her to do mine. She doesn’t appreciate being bothered, but eventually I’ll get better at it than she is and I won’t need to ask her for help anymore. Then she’ll be asking me!

  We always make up. When we are together 24/7, it’s a little too much to handle and we fight. We can’t help it; we get on each other’s nerves. We’ve had some really bad fights, especially when we were younger: wrestling, hair pulling, pinching, you name it. But as we’ve gotten older, it’s more yelling in each other’s faces. We realize how silly the fights are after we’ve had them. A lot of our arguments are over me wanting to do stuff, and Maddie telling me no because I’m younger and she doesn’t want me tagging along with her friends. Well, guess what? Everyone likes me because I’m funny and I’m fun. I think that makes her mad, because she doesn’t want to think her little sister is so popular, but I can’t help it—I’m very likable.

  The meanest thing she’s ever done to me . . . was kick me in the knee at a recital. I mean, seriously? The meanest thing I’ve ever done to her was probably just tell you that!

  She has some bad habits. She always bites her nails and twirls her hair. I don’t really have any bad habits, at least not as bad as hers.

  The one thing we have in common is we’re both obsessed with watching YouTube videos. I think I’m a little more obsessed: Last night I was up till 4 a.m. Oh, and we’re both always on our phones. It drives my mom up the wall!

  The best part of being Maddie’s sister is I always have her. It’s like, I’m never alone, because she’s there and we have each other to hang with. A sister is like a friend you can’t get rid of!

  Dear Maddie

  So my parents just told me I’m going to be a big sister. Seriously? I’m thirteen! Why would I want a baby around the house now? What if they ignore me when he/she comes along?

  This exact same thing happened to Kalani. It was really hard for her at first to adjust to the idea. But now her little baby brother Jett is seven months old and she is absolutely 100 percent in love with him. It’s so much fun seeing them together; she FaceTimes me with him and never wants to put him down. It will take some time for you to get used to the situation as well. Your parents won’t mean to ignore you, but a baby needs a lot of attention and it’s a lot of work. So just be prepared that they may have their hands full. M
ake sure you tell them how you feel. They love you and they will understand and do their very best to make you okay with it. Try and think of this as a great thing that’s happening in your life! I know Kalani says she can’t imagine her life without baby Jett in it. He is the cutest!

  My little brother is the most annoying person on the planet. He steals my stuff and hides it, and when my friends come over he acts disgusting just to embarrass me. What should I do?

  Boys are gross in general. Your friends know that, and they’re not gonna hold your brother’s bad behavior against you. I, too, have a super-annoying younger sibling, and I will tell you this: The more you protest, the more obnoxious they will try to act. They want to get a reaction out of you. So my advice to you is to ignore him. He wants attention, so don’t give it to him. My other suggestion is to make sure he is busy when your friends come by. Have him go on a playdate with his friends at the same time. If all else fails, bribe him to be good. Works on Kenzie every time . . .

  My parents are so unfair. They expect me to do everything because I’m the oldest, while my two younger sisters get away with murder. I can’t take it anymore!

  Hmmm, this sounds familiar. My sister gets away with everything all the time. Why? Because she’s younger, period. Your parents won’t tell you this, but by the time your siblings came along, they were kind of over the whole “strict parent” thing. They got it out of their system with you, and they will just let your siblings slide. Personally, I just deal. I know I’m not going to win against Mackenzie, so why try? But I also know that being the oldest has its advantages: I’ll get to drive a car first. I’ll get to vote first. I’ll get to move out on my own first. Same goes for you—your siblings will simply have to wait while you become an adult first. So consider yourself lucky and remind them who came first—and who always will.