BFF Breakup (mix) Page 9

  As we got close to our streets I asked her mom if she could take me to my house directly.

  “Well, sure, sweetie,” she said, looking at me in her rearview mirror. She glanced at Brooke, who kept her own gaze out the window.

  No one was home, which I was glad of. I grabbed a snack from the kitchen—some Teddy Grahams and a Coke—and went up to my room. I started dialing Susanna’s number to see if she could come over, but then remembered her doctor’s appointment. I thought about how great she was on Sunday night when all the heinousness with my parents went down. The true test of a friendship is how they handle things when it all gets rough. Susanna was there for me; Brooke was too busy being sarcastic and better than the rest of us. What a fair-weather friend.

  I checked my computer to see if anyone was online, but they weren’t, so I gathered up my snack and went into my closet, lights off, door shut. The cavelike sensation made me feel I could either block everything out or focus on it more intently, whichever I chose to do.

  I honestly didn’t get Brooke and how she’d been acting lately. I didn’t mean to not stand up for her at lunch, but Susanna was only standing up for me and how Brooke had been acting lately. Maybe the mom comment was a little below the belt, but even Brooke knew how lame that stuff was. She’d told me a thousand times, so it’s not like it was some secret.

  Later that evening, Susanna called. In fact, she was walking in the door from the doctor’s office—she couldn’t even wait to get up to her room to call me. That’s how good of a friend she was.

  “Let’s discuss,” she said. “I am so sorry you had to deal with that bull in the caf today. I mean, that’s your best friend? Wow! Like, I’d hate to see how she treats her enemies. Oh wait, I already know since I’ve been on the receiving end of that for weeks now. Oh my gosh.” She took a breath and said, “I just can’t believe it. How are you?”

  I thought for a moment, then said, “Shocked, but not really. Fed up for sure.”

  “Like, so over it,” Susanna said.

  “Exactly.” I sighed.

  “Look, can I be honest?”

  “Of course,” I said. “Please.”

  “I just never got the whole . . . Brooke thing. Natalie and Julia and I were talking today and we agreed that we never understood why someone as nice and cool as you would hang out with someone as mean and grumpy as her. It just never made sense.”

  “Well,” I began, because I didn’t know. Brooke was my best friend; that’s just the way things were. (Past tense?)

  “We’ve been friends so long,” I said. “Since, like, third grade.”

  “Um, can I be honest?” Susanna asked again.

  “Susanna, please. I always want you to be honest. It’s the best thing about you.”

  “Well, it’s just that . . . third grade is a long time ago. I still carried my American Girl doll to school in third grade. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  “I guess.”

  “My mom isn’t friends with people she went to third grade with. She isn’t even friends with the people she went to college with. You know why? Because people grow up. They start to like different things. People can grow apart more easily than you think. I mean, look at our parents.”

  Maybe that was true, but I never imagined it happening to me and Brooke. I wasn’t ready to believe that it was happening. Were we having a fight, or were we no longer friends?

  “Call me if you need anything,” Susanna said. “I’m here for you, no matter what.”

  In the midst of everything that was happening, that was exactly what I needed to hear.

  18 BROOKE

  IT WAS JUST NOT HAPPENING. NOPE. NU-UH. Not even.

  This was the mantra I repeated in my head when I got home—after we dropped Madeline off, front door service like she was royalty or something. I’m sorry, but just who does she think she is?

  When Madeline slammed the car door and ran up to her porch, Mom turned to me and asked, “Want to talk about it?”

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” I said.

  That rock that had formed in the pit of my stomach at lunch? Yeah, it was still there, like Dad’s Thanksgiving stuffing, just hanging out for the next ten hours or so.

  When I got home I went straight to the computer before Mom could. I got online to see if she was also. She was. I sat there frozen, looking at Madeline’s flashing name.

  Was she looking at my flashing name too? Was she thinking about IMing me, apologizing, saying the whole thing was stupid, and why don’t I just come over? Blink, blink went her screen name. I waited for the little sign that said she was typing, but it never moved. I waited for her to go offline but she didn’t. Was she just staring back at me? Waiting for me to make the first move?

  “Brooke, honey,” Mom said, snapping me out of my trance. “Are you doing anything there? Because I really need to check my e-mail.”

  “Oh,” I said, looking back at the screen one last time, hoping it would come to life. It didn’t. “Sure, okay.”

  She was going to say something. If not now, if not by IM, then she’d call, or come over. Maybe not until after dinner, but she would. Looking at my mom and knowing what Madeline had said about her . . . I knew she felt horrible. She’d make it right. We’d been friends too long for her not to.

  Except she didn’t. The entire evening I waited for her to contact me and she never did. With every phone call that wasn’t her, every message I got that wasn’t her, every time the wind rustled and a branch tapped at the window that wasn’t her . . . I got angrier and angrier.

  We all had dinner together that night. We didn’t always, but I guess most days of the week we did. Since Abbey started high school, she’d been out a lot more, at meetings for one of the new clubs she’d joined or just out with friends who had cars. I wondered what they did when they went out. Her life seemed so perfect. She’d had no problem going from junior high to high school this year.

  Dad had baked chicken and made his special mashed cauliflower and steamed spinach. I took the tiniest portion of spinach possible and wondered why we couldn’t have cheese on it. Cheese made everything better.

  “And then Clarissa, Janey, and Stephanie said they’re going to the lake this weekend if it’s not too cold. Just for the day. It’s okay if I go, right?” Abbey asked, as she shoveled food into her mouth.

  “Who’s driving?” Dad asked.

  “Probably Clarissa. Her Dad lets her borrow his SUV sometimes. She’s a very good driver.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Dad said, not seeming totally convinced.

  I watched my sister with wonder. Just a couple of weeks in high school and she already seemed different. She talked more, went out more, and obviously had more friends. The T-shirt she wore was black with red and white rhinestones curving down the side and onto the back, and it fit her snugly but not too snug. She looked prettier and more grown-up. Even her hair seemed thicker.

  “You made new friends that fast?” I asked, picking at my chicken.

  “We’ve been in school for weeks,” Abbey said. “And there are about seven hundred people in my grade. Do the math.”

  I looked around our table, the whole family gathered for a meal. Like all the shrinks on talk shows say it is crucial to keeping your kids off drugs. I realized that Madeline would never have that again. Maybe she rarely did anyway. Their family did eat together sometimes, but usually it was pizza in the living room with the TV on. Now that her parents were splitting up they’d never have the chance to do it right. It made me feel bad for her.

  I thought about that later, while I was in my room staring out the window at the dark creek that separated our houses. I wondered what she was doing, and if she was IMing me right then. She was probably so lonely and scared for what was happening to her family, and even though I didn’t know what to say to make her feel better I wanted to help her. I looked at the phone by my bed. Maybe it was just a dumb fight and the sooner we got over it the better things would be.

  The t
hings she said jumped back into my mind but I forced them out. She hadn’t meant what she said about my mom, right? She was just upset at what was happening in her family. She had a right to be frazzled and say crazy things when her family is falling apart. I’m her friend and we stick by each other. So I picked up the phone and dialed.

  My heart pounded as the phone rang. What was I going to say? How would we even begin talking about it? What if she—

  “Hello?”

  “Madeline?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s me,” I said.

  “Me who?” she asked.

  Oh, please. We’d been talking on the phone for years, give me a break. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that she was dealing with really heavy stuff. “It’s Brooke. Are you busy?”

  After a moment of silence she said, “No, I guess not.” She didn’t sound happy to hear from me. Surprised, but not happy.

  “So . . . um . . . it’s been a crazy couple of weeks, huh?” I said, going for lightness. She harrumphed in response. “Listen, Madeline.”

  “What, Brooke?”

  “Look, why are you being like this? What did I do that was so bad?” My heart pounded in my ears.

  “Are you seriously asking me this question?” she said.

  “Yes, I am seriously asking you this question,” I mimicked. Look, I couldn’t help it.

  “Fine then,” she said, like she was digging in for a fight. I braced myself. “You have been so unbelievably rude since school started, not to mention you’ve been whining about even starting school for weeks now. It’s like, get over it, okay? Grow up and stop acting like such a baby. I am so sick of taking care of you. You’re, like, a total burden. For once you need to get your own life and stop crashing mine. Does that answer your question?”

  I was too stunned to talk. It was worse than I thought. She was worse than I thought. More anger than I ever knew I had bubbled up inside me. “I hate you,” I said before slamming down the phone.

  The truth had finally sunk in. It was over. For good.

  19 MADELINE

  MY HAND SHOOK AS I PRESSED “END” ON MY phone. She was the last person I expected to call. When I heard her voice, I froze. And then I got angry.

  What did she do that was so bad? Try bringing me down. Try making a bad time in my life even worse by being so . . . Brooke-like. Why did she have to act like I wasn’t allowed to have any friends besides her?

  I didn’t cry or throw things around my room. I didn’t run to IM or back to the phone to tell Susanna every detail. I sat stunned—by the things I had said, and how my best friend and I were treating each other. If I’d let myself think about it, I’d probably have been pretty ashamed of myself. But I didn’t think about it. I stared at the wall and tried to think of nothing. Especially not the fact that I had totally and officially slammed the door on my and Brooke’s friendship, much less any hope of making up. We were as done as the dried chicken Dad had attempted to cook for dinner.

  I totally faked sick the next day. I couldn’t deal with riding to school with Brooke and wondering if her mom would say anything. Did Brooke tell her what I said?

  I also was not in the mood to see her at the locker, in class, in the halls, in the lunchroom. Basically I didn’t want to deal with her, so I told Dad I didn’t feel well. He put his hand to my forehead, I put on a sad-girl face, and he said he’d call in for me. I spent the day in bed, mostly sleeping and watching TV but not really paying attention. I let time pass.

  By Friday, the next day, I knew I had to go back. It was just one day, I told myself, then it’d be the weekend and this whole stupid thing would resolve itself. Brooke would probably come over and apologize for acting like such a jerk during my biggest time of need. I’d apologize for what I said about her mom and everything would go back to normal for my new junior high life.

  Mom had started packing. She had boxes in the hall marked OFFICE and BEDROOM. She still came home at night—Dad slept on the couch in the office, Mom in the bedroom—but it was only a matter of time, days probably, and she’d be out for good.

  Going back to school on Friday, I planned to look my best and keep my head high. I blew out my hair to show off its shininess, thinking again of getting it cut short like I’d talked to Brooke about for ages. I put a little extra blush on my cheeks so I’d look fresh and well-rested, like I didn’t have a care in the world. I wore jeans that were sort of tight with a slightly dressy blouse that I left untucked, and I dug out a blazer Mom had insisted on buying me. Checking myself out in the full-length mirror, my whole look was mature and so over it. It said, I don’t have time for these childish games.

  When I asked Dad to drive me to school, he asked, “Isn’t it Brooke’s mom’s week?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but she’s working more now, and I don’t think she has time to drive us anymore.”

  “Then who’s taking Brooke to school?”

  “Um, Abbey. I mean, friends of Abbey’s. They take Brooke and then they go to school.”

  “Oh,” Dad said, considering this. “We can’t ask them to take you too?”

  I regretfully shook my head. “I don’t even know them.”

  Luckily, Dad agreed that it would be rude to ask.

  My plan at school was simple: ignore Brooke until she apologized. She should really apologize to all my friends, but she could start with me. That’d be something. But believe me, I wasn’t holding my breath. She probably thought she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Dad got me to school a little earlier than usual, so I went to my locker and got the books I needed until lunch. I texted Susanna, who planned to walk with me to as many classes as she could for extra support. Before lunch I’d meet her outside her fourth-period class, then go dump my books at my locker—by then Brooke should have come and gone—and then we’d go into the lunchroom together and prepare myself for the afternoon class I had with Brooke.

  “Just forget her,” Susanna said as we walked to lunch. “If she can’t own up to what she did to you then, I’m sorry, but who needs friends like that?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “I know. That’s what I keep telling myself. It’s hard, though.”

  She patted my arm and said, “I know. I’m so sorry. But you have three other amazing friends who would never treat you the way she did.”

  In the cafeteria I did not let myself look around for Brooke. I had no idea where she sat or who she sat with or if she was even there. I kept my attention on my friends, who kept me occupied with laughing and talking about the weekend.

  “This time, we’re sleeping over at my house,” Susanna announced.

  “No more leaky roof?” I asked.

  “All taken care of,” Susanna said. “Natalie and Julia and I were talking and we think this time we should sneak out and go prank Derek Sampayo’s house. Maybe TP it, or Julia suggested making creepy noises at his bedroom window to make him think it’s a burglar or a monster or something. See how he reacts, you know?”

  “Who’s Derek Sampayo?” I asked.

  “Oh my god!” They all three practically said it in unison.

  “Only the hottest of the hot! Suse says he’s in your drama class,” Julia said.

  “I can’t believe you,” Susanna teased. “How could you not notice Derek Sampayo?”

  “No, I think I know who you’re talking about,” I said, even though I was pretty sure I didn’t know who he was. Our drama class was big. “Dark hair, right?”

  “And rich, chocolate eyes and long lashes that you could just fall right into, for days and days on end,” sighed Natalie.

  “Wow, someone’s been reading their mom’s romance novels,” Susanna said.

  “Again,” Julia said, and we all started laughing.

  I picked at my lunch. Derek was cute, if he was the guy I was thinking of. Maybe a boy was just what I needed to distract myself. Brooke and I had said we were totally going to get boyfriends now that we were in junior high. And then I realized, even
when I was trying not to think about Brooke, I was still thinking about her.

  20 BROOKE

  WHAT A COWARD AND A FAKER, SKIPPING school the day after our fight. I bet twenty-seven billion dollars she wasn’t sick at all. She just couldn’t face the reality of what she’d done, so she hid from it. And this business of not needing a ride from us anymore? Give me a break. It was going to be a huge burden on my mom, having to take me every day, but she didn’t complain. She just said she’d have to rework her schedule. I wondered what Madeline told her parents about why we weren’t riding together anymore. Probably some whopper of a lie.

  While Madeline was home hiding, I faced the cafeteria for the first time as a BFF-less—oh, who am I kidding?—as a friendless girl.

  Great news though. It was so much easier than I thought it would be. It turns out junior high people are really open and accepting to “homeless” people—you know, those of us who don’t have a set place to eat lunch every day or a steady group of friends. When I walked through the doors it was like the welcome wagon from olden times had pulled up, and everyone wanted me to sit at their table and share their food and be their new friend. It was amazing!

  Except that is not what happened. What happened instead was I walked into a another teen movie, stood at the threshold of the cafeteria looking in, had a moment of panic, almost ran away, decided to stay, almost barfed on my Chucks, then spotted Mindy from elementary school, and headed for her table.

  “Hey, Mindy,” I said, trying to act casual and cool and not at all desperate. “Anyone sitting here?”

  “Wow, Brooke,” she said, and the other girls sitting with her looked up and inspected me. “It must be true, then.”

  “What?”

  “That you and Madeline had a huge fight and aren’t friends anymore.”

  “You heard about that?” I asked.

  “Of course,” she said. She wore a narrow headband and pin-straight silver earrings. “Everyone’s heard. Sit.” She gestured to the open seat, and I sat down.