BFF Breakup (mix) Page 4

  “Wait,” I said. “You’re taking drama?”

  Looking at my schedule, Madeline said, “Foods for Living?”

  We looked at each other and both said, “Yeah, so?”

  I said, “I thought the food class would be fun. We get to eat. In class. Why are you taking drama?” She’d never once mentioned wanting to take drama, or anything about acting or plays or movies or television. And yeah, I never mentioned wanting to cook, but I hardly thought eating needed to be explained.

  “I was going to take the foods class and then this girl in line told me . . . um . . . “

  “Told you what?” I asked.

  “Told me that drama is good for people who want to try to break out of their shells, be more outgoing. I thought it’d be good for me.”

  “Mads, I hardly think you need to work on being more outgoing. You’re the most outgoing person I know.”

  I led us to the top of the bank, where the ground was less sloped and more solid. I didn’t tell Madeline, but snakes tended to come out of their burrowed spaces after a good rain. I’d never actually seen one but Dad had warned me.

  “What about your locker?” Madeline asked.

  “Number 1-4-2-7.” We looked at the little map we’d been given to show which lockers were in which hall.

  “I’m 1-2-2-4,” Madeline said. “Looks like they’re a couple of halls from each other.”

  “Well, that’s not too bad. At least we have lunch and history together.”

  I threw my arm around Madeline’s shoulder and said, “They’ll never keep us apart!” She laughed and gave me a side hug. “Let’s walk.”

  It was like a huge weight had been lifted. Now I started to see that everything would be fine—I’d have my best friend beside me the whole time, just like always.

  “Hey, listen,” Madeline said. “This girl I met at registration said that sometimes the ninth graders will pick on the seventh graders on the first day, so we’re meeting her in front of the marquee. I figured safety in numbers and all that.”

  Inside my head thoughts were racing. What is this—prison? We had to enter this school with safety in numbers? My fear exactly! But I had to play it cool. I didn’t want to look like a wimp.

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you think. What’s her name?”

  “Susanna,” Madeline said. “You’ll totally love her.”

  “Is that the girl who convinced you not to take Foods for Living?”

  “I decided for myself.”

  I smiled, teasing her. “Right.”

  We were almost to the part of the creek that ends in a wooded area where Mom says they’re going to develop more houses “cookie-cutter style.”

  “I wish you could come over,” Madeline said. We stopped to look through the wet branches and listened to the water moving around the creek. “Or I could go to your place. It’s so icky and grody out here.”

  “How long do you have on the outside?” I asked.

  “Not sure, but I should probably get back,” she said. “I doubt Mom is home yet. Then again, she’s never home.”

  “That new promotion or whatever got her busy?” I asked.

  Madeline shrugged. “I guess. She’s just never around, and when she is, she and Dad are at each other. They always fight. It’s so annoying.”

  “I’m sorry it’s so sucky at your place. If you want me to do anything, just let me know.”

  “There’s nothing anyone can do.” Madeline sighed. “Anyway, did you meet anyone at registration?”

  I thought of the girl in line, Lily. We didn’t exactly meet so I wasn’t sure that was her name. “No. I just registered and that was it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Madeline said as we got back to the bank that led to the paths to our houses. “You will.”

  I wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but then I saw something right next to Madeline’s foot that made my heart drop.

  “Madeline,” I said, carefully and gently so as to not cause any sudden movements. “Don’t move and don’t panic. There’s a snake right next to you.”

  She looked at me with a slight smile on her face and said, “Nice try.”

  “I’m being totally serious,” I said, slowly stepping away from her. The snake was coiled up, which Dad said meant they were ready to strike. He also said they could travel really fast, so running away might not work, especially since the ground was so slippery. “Just step away slowly. Be careful not to slip on the mud.”

  Finally she looked down, and her eyes went as wide as I’d ever seen them. Her jaw dropped into a silent scream. Before I knew what was happening, Madeline shot off, running toward her house, and I was running toward mine, wondering if the snake was slithering after me, about to chomp my ankles. I didn’t stop until I was at our back porch, when I turned to see nothing on the ground following me. Then I burst out laughing, wishing I could call Madeline.

  9 MADELINE

  INEVER THOUGHT I’D GEEK OUT SO MUCH ABOUT the first day of school, but I was actually excited. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I woke up before the alarm went off.

  Next stop: Nerdville.

  Also a first for me: Laying out my clothes the night before. Normally I threw on whatever was closest to my outstretched hand while standing bleary-eyed in front of my closet. This being the start of junior high, I knew I had to pick something great to make a good first impression. I kept thinking about all the new kids who were going to be there and, frankly, I wanted to impress them. I didn’t know who I was going to meet or what the kids from the other elementary schools were going to be like, but I didn’t want them to think I was some baggy-pants slacker before they even knew my name. It’s like Susanna said (via texts that we snuck to each other since I was grounded), first impressions are everything.

  I knocked the stuffed animals off my bed and watched as Harold, a little monkey holding a pink heart, tumbled to the floor. I sat facing the window and held my mirror up to my face. Susanna said morning sunlight is the truest light, and that I should avoid bathroom lights if I could. I was only going to put on a little powder, blush, and the faintest pink lip gloss; I was hoping Mom didn’t say anything. She hadn’t said I could wear makeup; she also hadn’t said I couldn’t. I figured as long as I didn’t look like I was wearing stage makeup (which is a ton, I’ve heard), I’d be safe.

  “Knock, knock!” Brooke called as she stepped into my room the morning of our first day. “Look at this—ruined already and we’re not even there yet.” She held out her leg, showing me the mud splattered on the back of her pants. “I was jumping across the creek and nearly fell back into the water.”

  “It’s still a mess back there?” I asked. Poor Brooke. And on the first day. Dad had taken me to the mall and given me his credit card so he could sit on a bench and drink coffee while I shopped. I got a ton of new skirts, something I’d never really worn before. I also got some colored tights and a couple of new bags. On the first day, I was wearing a black and pink pleated skirt with a gray top and a pink necklace. I felt very girlie and kind of mature.

  “Yes, and Dad keeps telling me he’s going to build that swing across the creek. If he would just do what he promises, life would be great.”

  “Want to borrow something of mine?” I only asked to be nice because we really don’t fit into each other’s clothes. She’s a little shorter than I am and stronger too, so her legs and arms are a bit bigger.

  “No, thanks. Maybe I should have just worn a skirt.” She looked down at my outfit. I waited for her to compliment me. “Then I could just wipe the mud off, but no, I had to wear pants. When it’s ninety-five degrees out.”

  Okay, so no compliment. Not a big deal. “Classrooms are always cold,” I said, hoping to make her feel better.

  “That’s what I figured. Wow,” she said, finally really looking at me. I stood up a little straighter to better show off my outfit. “Isn’t that skirt a little short?”

  “No,” I said, irritated that the first thing she had to say was neg
ative and, I don’t know, motherly or something. “It’s totally fine.” It was a little short, but I didn’t need her telling me that.

  “Well,” she said, looking at my entire outfit instead of just the distance from hem to knee, “you do look cute.”

  “Thanks.” The compliment felt a little flat after the criticism. The skirt was flouncy and looked great with the gray top, if I do say so myself. “Susanna said that what you wear on the first day is so important.”

  “Susanna?” Brooke asked.

  “The girl I met at registration. I told you about her.”

  “I thought you were grounded from the phone and from doing anything until today, when school starts.”

  Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned how I’d been texting with Susanna, especially since Brooke and I had barely spoken the last two weeks. Minimizing the damage—and being honest—I said, “We just texted a couple of times, but don’t say anything because I’m totally not supposed to have my phone.”

  “Oh, okay,” Brooke said, looking a little bummed.

  “You have to get a cell phone already,” I said, even though I knew she wouldn’t. “Maybe your parents will get you one for your birthday or Christmas or something.”

  “Not likely,” she said. “Abbey only just got hers and she’s three years older.”

  “Girls,” Mom called. She stuck her head—her perfectly coiffed head—in to my room and said, “Ready to go?”

  I waited a beat for her to notice my skirt, to tell me that it was too short or that I looked nice, but her eyes skimmed right over me and, in an instant, she was out the door and heading downstairs.

  In the kitchen, I grabbed a Pop-Tart from the cabinet.

  “Breakfast?” I said, offering one to Brooke.

  “Mom and Dad made Abbey and me eggs and bacon this morning.”

  I rolled my eyes, following Mom to the garage. “And you seriously complain about your parents?”

  “What? They can be totally annoying.”

  I took a bite of the dry and crumbly Pop-Tart and said, “Right.”

  10 BROOKE

  JUNIOR HIGH WAS OFF TO A SMASHING START. Mud is the new glitter, didn’t you know?

  I felt like a homeless person next to Madeline, who looked crisp and clean and girlie and nice. I was so miserable when I woke up that morning. More so than usual, because as anyone sane will tell you, morning is the absolute worst time of day. So I just sort of threw whatever on, and whatever happened to be light-colored jeans, which perfectly accentuated the brown splatters on the back of my legs. Très chic, no?

  No.

  Madeline usually made more of an effort than I do by wearing matching socks and cute earrings but today was a whole new level. She’d put real effort into her outfit. Maybe no one would notice my splatters because they’d be too busy looking at the length of her skirt.

  We weren’t out of the car for two seconds before she was waving at someone across the front lawn of the school. I hustled to keep up with her.

  “Hiiiii,” she said to the girl who stood below the marquee, which read, WELCOME BACK STUDENTS! WELCOME NEW STUDENTS.

  Profound!

  “Oh my god, you look so cute!” the girl gushed. “Did you go to Max and Jenny like I told you?”

  “Best advice ever,” Madeline said.

  While Madeline and that girl inspected each other’s clothes, I stood beside Mads feeling like the tag-along little sister. I should know because I have been that sister to Abbey on more than one occasion.

  “Oh, I’m such a jerk!” Madeline finally said, turning to me. “This is my best friend, Brooke.”

  “Hi.” I waved. “Cute headband.” Because it was kind of cute, even though I could never pull something like that off, not that I’d want to. Headbands with bows were way too prep school for me.

  “You’re the snake girl, right?” she asked.

  “What?” I kind of laughed because I didn’t want to be rude but, huh?

  “Didn’t you spot a snake at the river or something?” she asked, eyeing Madeline to back her up.

  “Oh,” I said. “Yeah, at the creek.”

  “She practically saved my life,” Madeline said. “I was about to step right on it!”

  “Why were you hanging out in a creek anyway?” she asked with a slight wrinkle in her nose, like something stunk.

  “What’s your name again?” Okay, I knew her name before we even walked up to her but I couldn’t help myself. Was I being rude? Was she?

  “Susanna,” she said.

  “Gotcha.” I took a good look at Susanna, and it wasn’t until then that I realized I was really in trouble. She wasn’t an average-looking girl. She was one of those girls. The kind whose hair is always perfectly straight and glossy, their shirts never wrinkled, their skirts always just the right length, and they never carried last year’s book bag (gag me, I know!) because they knew the minute something went out of style. I’m sure Madeline was just being nice to her, or maybe she was curious about some girl who was nothing like us, but still. We used to make fun of girls like that.

  The three of us started toward the salmon-colored brick two-story, which looked like a slightly larger version of my elementary school but with fifteen times as many kids. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

  “Are you okay?” Susanna asked, looking at me. “I don’t know you very well, but you look a little green.”

  “She’s fine,” Madeline said. “Just first day jitters, right Brooke?” I nodded, hating to think that this girl knew how nervous I was.

  “What? Afraid some big ninth grader is going to flush your head down the toilet?” Susanna asked with a sneer in her voice, like I was acting like some baby. And okay, maybe there was nothing to be nervous about, but wasn’t I allowed to be slightly anxious on the first day? Did this person have to mock my every emotion?

  “Thanks,” I said, making sure to layer on some extra sarcasm, “but I’m just fine. I live for first days.”

  As we walked through the metal double doors of the school, I had the feeling that if I didn’t grab hold of Madeline’s hand, I’d lose her forever in the crowd.

  “Well, I think we’re off this way,” Madeline said, nodding at the stairs on the right. “We both have drama first period. You’re okay?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, as someone slammed into my shoulder and kept walking. I felt Susanna’s eyes on me, probably thinking what a loser I was.

  “So I guess I’ll meet you at lunch?” I said. “Where should we meet?”

  “Let’s meet right outside the caf,” Madeline said.

  “Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

  “See you inside!” Madeline said as she and Susanna walked off.

  “And watch out for snakes!” Susanna called, and they both laughed.

  My first class of my junior high career was the ever-inspiring Civics & Government. The truth is, I was so tired because I couldn’t sleep last night just thinking about the fun I was going to have memorizing the Declaration of Independence and how a bill becomes a law. In your face, drama class!

  When I finally found the classroom, I had an intense attack of the butterflies as I stepped into the room and sat at a desk somewhere in the middle.

  I didn’t recognize anyone, so I pretended to be engrossed in the papers in my notebook, most of which were blank, except for my schedule. When our teacher, Ms. Ligon, got class started, she said she was going to hand out a syllabus, and then started passing back a sheet of paper to each student. I’d never heard that word before, but it sounded official and scary and hard.

  Turned out a syllabus is just a piece of paper that states what we’d be studying and how she planned to grade us. Like, this percentage of our report card grade comes from quizzes, this much from tests, and this much from participation. (Doesn’t taking tests count as participating?) Add it all up and you get a hundred.

  Disco! The first bell had barely rung and I’d already learned something. Ma and Pa would be
so proud.

  After class, I dashed for the door, not knowing how long it’d take me to find my locker, drop off my books, and get to my second class, science.

  After bumbling down the hallways and making two wrong turns, I finally found my locker. I did a silent cheer when I saw that it was a top.

  West Junior High has top and bottom lockers. I think in the old days lockers were just one locker, long enough to hang a trench coat in them. But nowadays, I guess because of overcrowding, those lockers were basically cut in half, so you either got a locker that you could use while standing up like an advanced human being, or one that you have to crouch down to use. Getting a top meant one thing was going right for me today. I hoped Madeline didn’t have a bottom—her skirt seemed awfully short to be kneeling down in. As I worked the combination, which took me about ten minutes, I was nudged from behind, and the person who had the locker below mine appeared.

  Chris Meyers, better known as “the dude who did the worm at the end-of-the-year dance” and who I totally and secretly kissed a million years ago, was standing beside me.

  “Hey, Brooke!” he yelled, like he hadn’t seen me in fifty years but had been hoping to every day since. The halls were loud but he really didn’t have to shout. Also, he was wearing a white button-down with a red skinny tie like he was going to a Young Republicans meeting or something. “How’s it going? Is this your locker?”

  “Nah. I just hacked into it using my stethoscope. Nice tie.”

  “Oh, thanks.” he said, sort of patting it like a pet.

  He knelt beside me as he did his combination. “How’s junior high treatin’ ya?” he asked, looking up at me. It gave me an uncomfortable feeling, being looked up at like that. He looked so eager, like he wanted me to pet his head. It was like he was trying too hard. Or maybe it was just the tie that was throwing me.

  “School’s okay so far,” I said. “I was elected Most Popular and Most Likely to Succeed this morning. I think I’m going to do well here.”

  “Brooke, you kill me.”

  I raised one eyebrow and said, “Not yet.”