Frenemies

by Sheryl Berk

  “So the administration in Columbus Prep didn’t feel a recycling program was a great idea—but they know best, right?” Emma asked the audience. “Well, Aubrey didn’t think so. She fought hard as president of her student government to convince her principal that recycling was important. She made a difference, not only in school policy, but in our environment.” She pointed to one of the judges who had a paper cup filled with coffee. “You!” she shouted at him. “Do you think you should recycle that cup?”

  “Why yes, recycling is very important,” the judge responded, embarrassed to be put on the spot.

  “It is!” Emma said. “And yet it took a kid to point this out. A kid who couldn’t possibly know as much as a grown-up. A kid who is only in the seventh grade but is already concerned with saving our resources and protecting our planet for the future. And that’s it, isn’t it? Kids are the future. It will be our world one day. The sooner we learn to take responsibility for it, the better the world—and our lives—will be. This Student Congress is the perfect example of how important it is for all of us to have a voice. Isn’t that why we’re here? To discuss issues, to explore questions, to arrive at answers? Shouldn’t every kid, not just the representatives here, have that chance?”

  The audience erupted in applause—Harriet leading them by whistling through her teeth.

  Emma sat back down and smiled at Jackson. “And that’s how it’s done.”

  “That was amazing. You’re amazing,” Jackson marveled.

  “You gave me the idea,” she told him. “When you told me about Aubrey being student government president and wanting to recycle.”

  “Well, that leaves only Tyler,” Jackson said. “Let’s hope we took some of the air out of his tires.”

  Tyler had one last argument left to make for the Columbus Prep team. He walked to the podium, cleared his throat, and began. “Yes, Aubrey is student government president, and, yes, she helped implement a recycling program in our school—with the guidance of an adviser, an adult who instructed her and helped her make smart decisions.” He turned to Emma and Jackson. “Did you two come here alone?” he asked them. “Or did your adviser work with you tirelessly on your debating skills and prepare you to make the strong arguments you’ve made today?”

  Uh-oh, Emma thought. This isn’t supposed to happen.

  Tyler stepped down off the stage and walked to where Mr. Carter was seated in the audience. “Sir, your Austen Middle students owe you a great deal,” he said.

  Mr. Carter had no idea what to do—so he tried to hide behind his program.

  “Don’t be shy,” Tyler continued. “Every student here owes a great deal to each of our advisers. Without them, we wouldn’t be here today. Our adviser, Mr. Benally, is also my adviser on the student newspaper—he reads all of my editorials before they go to print. Why? Because he’s wise and experienced. All of our advisers here today are as well. Many have coached teams to victory at the National Student Congress before. So, yes, kids do have a voice here, but it’s because of the expert advice and guidance we’ve received—proving that as kids, we are not ready to take the reins yet. There will be plenty of time for that.”

  He then did something completely unexpected—and frankly, Emma-esque. He went around the room, shaking hands with every adviser and thanking them, until Mr. Hartfield called time.

  “He out-Emma’d you,” Jackson said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was exactly something you would do.”

  Jackson was right. It was a brilliant move. If they were playing chess, it would have been checkmate. Tyler had seen Emma’s technique and one-upped her. It was unexpected, unorthodox, and the adults in the audience were eating it up.

  “Ugh,” Emma groaned. “Now what?”

  “We wait,” Jackson said.

  The afternoon seemed to go on forever, with the remaining teams battling it out and the judges deliberating for what felt like an eternity.

  No matter how much Izzy and Harriet tried to cheer her up, Emma already felt defeated. She slumped on a couch in the lobby, waiting for the news. Mr. Carter sat down next to her. “Columbus Prep wasn’t completely right, you know,” he told her. “I guided you, yes, but in the end, you did your own thing, Emma. Your voice is yours and yours alone, and that’s the way it should be.”

  Even with Mr. Carter’s pep talk, Emma couldn’t help feeling like she’d let everyone down. If her team didn’t win, it would be all on her. She was the one who had tried to outmaneuver Columbus Prep. Emma had been overly confident; she never anticipated her opponents beating her at her own game.

  She saw Jackson approaching her. “The judges have their decision,” he said. “We have to go back in the ballroom.”

  Emma’s heart sank. This was it. Whatever happened next, there was no fixing it.

  “Good luck, honey,” her mom whispered, as she and Jackson walked past their family and friends in the audience.

  “Positive thoughts!” Harriet told her.

  Emma couldn’t bear to imagine how the Austen Middle fan club would feel if she and Jackson didn’t take home the trophy. Her family and friends hadn’t come all this way to watch Austen Middle lose!

  “Congratulations to each of the schools who made it this far,” Mr. Hartfield began. “You are truly all brilliant debaters.”

  He read off the names of the finalists, one by one, as each team stood and silently marched up to the podium to receive their medals:

  “Sixth place: Bayberry Middle School.

  “Fifth place: Holden Mann Academy.

  “Fourth place: Benjamin Franklin Middle School.

  “Third place: Mountainview Middle School . . .”

  Emma looked at Jackson and squeezed his hand so tightly, he yelped.

  “You know what this means?” she said. “It’s us and Columbus Prep.”

  They were holding hands as Mr. Hartfield read the next name on his list: “In second place, Austen Middle School.”

  For a minute, Emma felt as if she were having an out-of-body experience. She barely remembered walking up to the podium with Jackson and receiving the second-place medal from Mr. Hartfield. She remembered seeing Harriet, Izzy, Ms. Bates, and their families jumping for joy in the audience, and Mr. Carter waving enthusiastically.

  As Emma made her way through the audience, people kept congratulating her. Her parents showered her with praise, bouquets of roses, and congratulations balloons, and Harriet handed her a stuffed orangutan wearing an Austen Middle T-shirt.

  “I named him Chester,” she told Emma.

  Everyone wanted to tell her how great she did, but Izzy hung back, waiting for the right moment to step in and give her a hug.

  “I lost,” Emma whispered in her friend’s ear.

  “You didn’t lose. You won second place,” Izzy corrected her.

  “Then why does it feel so awful?”

  Izzy put her hands on her hips. “Okay, what would Ask Emma have to say to that?”

  Emma sighed. “You can’t always win.”

  “And?” Izzy prodded her.

  “And sometimes losing makes you work that much harder to reach your goals.”

  “And?”

  “And we learn much more from our failures than we do from our successes.”

  “Keep going,” Izzy said.

  “And lots of brilliant, amazing people have come in second—like Hillary Clinton. So, you’re in good company.”

  Izzy thought it over. “Yeah, that’s a pretty good post. If you check your email, you’ll see I asked Emma that exact same question.”

  Suddenly Emma remembered Izzy had come in second at her gymnastics competition the day before. Of course Izzy understood what Emma was feeling.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Iz. I forgot,” Emma said. “My moping probably made you feel worse.”

  “No, it actually made me feel better,” Izzy admitted. “Because if someone as awesome as my BFF Emma comes in second place, that must be pretty good.”

  Mr. Hartfield overhea
rd them. “It’s better than pretty good. For your first time at the National Student Congress, it’s quite an accomplishment. I hope you’ll come back next year and participate again.”

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “Really? You want me to come back? After all the crazy things I did?”

  He noticed she was holding a bouquet of roses—and not sneezing. “Well, faking an allergy to roses was a bit much,” he said, winking. “But I won’t tell. See you at the gala.”

  Emma had almost forgotten about the huge banquet, concert, and dance planned for this evening. She had been looking forward to it before, but now it seemed a lot less appealing. “Ugh, I’m sure Aubrey will be there gloating,” she told Izzy.

  “Well, she doesn’t have your dress—expertly styled by your extremely fashionable best friend,” Izzy said.

  “My power-red dress.” Emma smiled.

  “With the beaded bodice and chiffon hi-lo skirt,” her friend reminded her. “Not to mention the matching red heels. Jackson is going to flip when he sees you.”

  “If he doesn’t hate me for losing the finals,” she said. In all the excitement, she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him or tell him how sorry she was.

  Izzy pushed her toward the elevator. “Go get dressed and your fairy godfriends will be up shortly to do your hair and makeup.”

  Harriet heard her cue. “I brought your fave eye-shadow palate and that frosty gloss you love that tastes like strawberries.”

  “What would I do without you two?” Emma said, pulling them both in for a hug.

  Thanks to Izzy and Harriet, Emma looked like she belonged at a red carpet premiere. They styled her hair in a sophisticated half updo and gave her perfectly smoky eyes and pale pink lips.

  “One last little detail,” Izzy said, handing her a small velvet box. “A girl should always accessorize.” Emma opened it to find a silver pendant, shaped like a crescent moon, studded with a tiny diamond.

  Izzy put it around her neck. “Happily ever after to the moon and back,” she told Emma. “Now, off to the ball, Cinderella.”

  When Emma entered the ballroom, she saw that the seats from the Congress were replaced with a light-up dance floor and a shimmering disco ball hung overhead. She spied Jackson in the crowd and their eyes met for a second. Then he looked away and ducked out of sight.

  Ugh, he hates me, she thought. He’ll never speak to me again, much less ask me to be his girlfriend.

  Emma saw that Tyler was taking pictures with fans and signing autographs.

  “Here ya go—you might want to frame that. It’ll be really valuable one day,” he was telling a girl from another school. Emma secretly wondered whether anyone had asked Tyler for his signature or if this was his idea.

  “I know for a fact he buys his followers on Instagram,” someone said in her ear.

  Emma spun around to see Aubrey standing behind her. “It’s a pretty good bet that he’s paying those people to hang all over him tonight.”

  Emma laughed. “Well, you won. I guess he deserves the attention.” She paused to consider why Aubrey would be making fun of her teammate. “But aren’t you guys friends?”

  Aubrey shrugged. “We’re not the kind of friends you and Jackson are.”

  Emma’s eyes widened. Was it that obvious that she had a crush on Jax? Could everyone see it? “Well, yeah. We work really well together.”

  “Congratulations,” Aubrey said simply.

  “I should be congratulating you. You guys won first place.”

  “And you put up a really good fight,” Aubrey added. “I’m impressed, and I hope we get to debate again next year.” She walked away to find her parents and her adviser.

  “Did I see you talking to Aubrey?” Jackson asked. He had two glasses in his hands and held one out to her. “I leave you alone for one minute and you’re chatting with the enemy?”

  She heaved a huge sigh of relief—at least he wasn’t avoiding her. He’d gone to get her punch.

  “Aubrey’s nice,” she remarked. “Nicer than you’d guess. She congratulated us.”

  “Hmm,” Jackson replied. “I guess I assumed that everyone who went to Columbus Prep was mean and stuck-up.”

  Emma glanced over at Tyler, who had now donned a pair of sunglasses to take selfies of himself with the gold medal around his neck. “Yeah well, I can see why you’d think that.” She hesitated for a moment. “That and the fact that you were bullied at that school. I get it.”

  Jackson smiled. “You always get me, Emma.”

  “I do?” Emma asked. “I mean, I do. I get that you wanted to win, and I’m so sorry we came in second, Jax. It was all my fault.”

  “No! Second place is amazing for first-timers. We came here to prove ourselves and we more than did that. Besides, there’s always next year.”

  Emma considered his words. “You mean, you’d want to be partners again?”

  “Are you kidding? We’re the Dream Team!”

  Emma noticed how happy and calm Jackson was now that the competition was over. “You seem much more relaxed,” she told him.

  “I can’t believe how nervous I got. I’m lucky you kept a calm, cool head the whole time.”

  Calm and cool? She wished Ms. Bates could have heard that! She would never have believed it.

  “And you look really pretty tonight,” he added. “Are you wearing red for Crimson Five?”

  Emma laughed. And as if on cue, the band took the stage. The crowd swelled, and Jackson pulled her up to the front with him.

  Everyone was cheering, dancing, and singing along. All the competitiveness from the weekend seemed to melt away.

  “You never told me your favorite Maroon 5 song,” Emma shouted over the music.

  Jackson smiled. “This one. It’s called ‘It Was Always You.’”

  Emma’s heart did a backflip as she listened to the lyrics: “It was always you / Can’t believe I could not see it all this time . . .” Was Jackson trying to tell her something? Did he feel this way about her? Or was it a coincidence?

  As if he could read her mind, Jackson took her hand and led her to a table in a quiet corner.

  “Do you think Ask Emma is up for a question?” he asked. “I know it’s been a long day. But it’s important, and I really could use some help.”

  Emma nodded—she hoped she knew where this was going. “Of course! How can I help?”

  “Well, you see, there’s this girl . . . ,” Jackson began.

  Emma suddenly felt light-headed, like she was floating several feet in the air.

  Jackson continued, “I like her but I don’t know how to ask her if she wants to go out with me. What should I do?”

  “Well,” she replied, trying hard to keep her feet on the ground. “You should tell her how you feel. Be completely honest. Just say, ‘Hey, would you maybe like to go out with me sometime?’”

  “But what if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

  “You won’t know unless you ask, right?” Emma insisted.

  Jackson considered. “Okay, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.” He stood up. “Want to go try that chocolate fountain? It looks yummy.”

  Emma’s heart sank. What? Wasn’t he asking her out? Wasn’t that the point? Or was he interested in some other girl and she’d completely misjudged him?

  She started to walk toward the dessert buffet, and he caught her hand in his. “I’m kidding! I’ve been wanting to ask you forever, so here goes: Hey, would you maybe like to go out with me sometime?”

  Emma stared, speechless.

  “Yaaas!” cheered a voice from the back of the room. Harriet and Izzy had been spying the entire time—they were hiding behind the chocolate fountain, trying not to be spotted.

  “Well, Harriet says yes.” Jackson shuffled his feet. “How about you?”

  He looked nervous—which made him even more adorable!

  “Yes,” Emma said, beaming. Jackson smiled back at her. She watched as the disco ball cast tiny lights across the walls and ceiling
. It looked like a million shimmering stars.

  “Make a wish,” he told her.

  But her wish had already come true! She’d gotten her perfect day after all—and she didn’t need to fix a single thing.

  START YOUR OWN

  MOTHER-DAUGHTER BOOK CLUB!

  A mother-daughter book club makes reading more fun—and creates a sense of sharing. You gain insight into each other’s lives and generations and connect with others in your community. Plus, it’s a great way to explore books through creative activities that bring the books’ characters and stories to life.

  HOW DO I GET STARTED?

  To start a club, reach out to your local school, library, religious institution, even a Girl Scout troop, and ask if you can distribute flyers to recruit participants in the area. Once you have a bunch of interested people (five to six mom-daughter pairs, with daughters in the same age range is ideal), decide who will be the first family to host. You can take turns or have one house serve as your club’s home base. You can also hold meetings (with permission) in a classroom, library, school lounge, etc. The club organizer should be responsible for circulating the when and where of your meetings (either through email or text message works best) and also encouraging the club to submit ideas for books and activities. Try to include everyone in your club plans—this will make them more excited to be part of each meeting.

  HOW OFTEN SHOULD WE MEET?

  It’s really up to you and depends how busy your members are. A schedule that works for most book clubs is once a month. You will read a book over the course of that month, and plan your activities and discussions around the story you’ve chosen. The meetings can be anywhere from an hour to two hours long, depending on what you’re planning to talk about and do. A cooking activity, for example, will take up a lot of time, so you will need to allot at least an additional 45–60 minutes for your book discussion.

  WHAT’S A GOOD THING TO DO AT THE VERY FIRST MEETING?