Best Friends...Forever?

by Krysten Lindsay Hager

  "That's a dumb one. I wanted, 'A hot guy awaits you,'" she said. "Read yours."

  '"Trust is the most important thing in a relationship.' Oh, whoopee. These fortunes stink."

  We asked my mom what hers said, and she hadn't even read it. My mother was so boring sometimes. Later, when we were cleaning up after dinner, I found her fortune stuck in the fried rice carton. "Anything worthwhile takes time and patience." Weird.

  Tori told me that I should e-mail Vladi, since I had run out on him at the ice cream place. I shrugged and said I didn't know what to say to him. In fact, I always felt a little weird around him since a) he was a guy, b) he was in high school, and c) he was thoughtful and let's be honest, hot. Deep down, I knew I should apologize for acting like a weirdo, but he probably had moved on already and was dating like, half the high school girls' soccer team. Closing my eyes, I could just imagine him reading my e-mail and thinking, "Landry who? Oh that chick I used to sort of babysit? My charity case? No time to write her now. I've got a date with the girl who plays Colin's girlfriend on As the Days Roll On."

  "I wish he just knew when I needed him to call or e-mail me. Like he was psychic or something. You know, like that TV show where that guy can communicate with people by using his mind," I said, hugging my knees to my chest.

  "Yeah, but the people that guy talks to are dead," she said.

  My mom came in and said that Vladi had messaged her while she was online.

  "I guess you forgot to log out, and he thought you were still on," Mom said. "I told him who I was, and he said to say hi to you."

  "Did he sound weird or anything?" I asked.

  "He just wrote, 'Hi Landry,' and when I told him I was your mom, he said, 'Sorry, Mrs. Albright. Say hi to Landry for me,'" she said.

  "But did it sound like he desperately wanted to talk to me? What font did he use?" I asked.

  Mom shook her head. "Why don't you e-mail him yourself and say hi?"

  Mothers. I mean, why didn't I just grovel at his feet and throw rose petals in his path?

  "E-mail him? Please. How desperate would that be?" I said.

  "That is so weird," Tori said. "We were just talking about reaching him with your mind…it's like you channeled him or something…weird. Channeling Yagudin — that could be a book title."

  Tori and I put on our sweats and went to make some popcorn. Channel seventy-eight was doing a special on real-life haunted houses. I knew I shouldn't have watched it, since I was what the announcer described as a "sensitive viewer," but I watched anyway. We made sure to switch the channel whenever my mom was around, because she'd have lectured me if she knew I was watching a show about actual ghosts. Movie ghosts are bad enough, but the real life stuff scares me to death. Once, after I watched Death Stalks the Makeup Artist, I had to beg my mom to let me sleep in her room. I even stopped using my mom's Little Rose foundation, because the ghost had tampered with the makeup artist's base.

  "Ooh, I heard about this guy. He's mad because his wife promised to visit his grave every day, but then she stopped going there after a month. They say he walks through the cemetery at night and tries to find his wife," Tori said.

  I thought about Peaceful Glades cemetery, which was across the main road at the end of my street. Sure, it wasn't directly across from my house, but when I went to the bus stop in the mornings, I could definitely see it. Normally, I didn't even notice it was there — unless I had just watched a movie about the undead. The first time my dad came to see the house, he had made a joke about us having "quiet neighbors" and that "at least we won't have to deal with loud parties." Easy for him to say, since he was just visiting on weekends and not living there full-time.

  "Do you think ghosts leave the cemetery?" Tori asked. I shrugged and hoped no dead guy would decide to move into my house. She and Devon actually lived closer to the cemetery than I did, so maybe the ghosts would hit their houses before they got to mine. After all, Devon had all the premium movie channels, and Tori's house had that cool built-in fish tank.

  Tori went to make some more popcorn as I snuggled into our new love seat. We had bought some new furniture since my dad was supposed to be moving in soon. Sometimes it felt like it was never going to happen. I mean, Mom and I had lived here for almost two years. When we first moved from Chicago, my dad had come to visit every single weekend, but then he and my mom started having problems. They fought all the time, and then Dad didn't visit as much because he was busy with the medical clinic where he worked. Things had started to get better, but he still wasn't living with us.

  "Your mom said we could have this box of granola bars," Tori said, setting down the bag and the popcorn. "What's the next part about?"

  "This guy had a Halloween display fall on him, so he haunts the grocery store where he died," I said, unwrapping a bar.

  "Cool, 'Death by Display,'" she said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tori went home early the next morning, and I cleaned my room and deep-conditioned my hair. I was going to reorganize my books when I started to wonder if I should message Vladi just to let him know I hadn't meant to run out on him that night. After all, he had tried to talk to me last night, so I could just be acknowledging that. I sat at my laptop and bit my lip. To write or not to write. I went on his social media page and scanned it for signs he had a girlfriend. It seemed like a million girls liked and commented on stuff he posted, but while they seemed flirty with him, I didn't see him writing much back. I went to the most recent picture he posted, which was of a basketball player he liked. It happened to be one of the guys I had seen when I was in a coffee shop back in Chicago the previous summer. I posted a message about standing behind that guy in line. A few minutes later, I heard a "ping" and realized someone had liked my comment. It was Vladi.

  "Seriously? You met him?" he wrote.

  I typed that I hadn't talked to him, just stood there, but the guy had ordered a decaf white mocha latte.

  "That's awesome."

  "Yeah, he's super tall," I wrote.

  I sat there, waiting and hoping for him to comment back. Nothing. I sighed. Oh well. At least he hadn't said, "Landry? How are we friends on here again?"

  Then he commented. "Check your private messages."

  Huh? Oh wow, the little mailbox icon had lit up.

  I opened my e-mail from him. He asked if I was mad at him or something, and I told him the reason I left that night had nothing to do with him and said I was sorry.

  "It was just some girl drama, and I felt bad about leaving without explaining."

  He wrote back, "Oh, okay. Cool. I didn't know if I did something or what. I knew you were upset that night, so I figured it was something to do with your friends, but you never messaged me after that so I didn't know. Is everything okay with them now?"

  I thought it would be best to write that everything was fine and pretend I was one of those sunny, happy girls on the teen magazine covers who never had a pimple or a problem, but that wasn't real. So I wrote back that we still weren't speaking and told him what happened. I didn't expect to get an answer or, if I did, something about how girls were crazy and full of drama. But instead, he wrote back saying that stunk.

  "I feel bad your friends would turn on you like that. All you did was tell the truth, but sometimes people don't want to see bad stuff about a person, especially if they were friends with India longer than they were with you. It's always easier to blame the new person than to see that your other friend might not be who you thought she was, you know?"

  He actually understood what I was feeling.

  "Hey, is it cool if I call you?" he wrote.

  My heart did the cartwheel I was incapable of doing as I typed back, "Sure," along with my number.

  He called and at first I was nervous, but then we started talking about how some people could act like a good friend one minute and then stop speaking to you over something small the very next. Then he mentioned how we'd be seeing less of each other since basketball season was almost over. I asked i
f he went to any of the other high school games or activities. I thought if he said he was into another sport, it would give us a reason to meet up.

  "Not too much. Do you?" he asked.

  "No. Do you ever just go out for ice cream at Ignatowski's or…whatever?"

  "Sometimes. With basketball and school and all, I don't have time for going out on dates and stuff. I can't drive yet, but my parents are always on me about my homework anyway."

  I twisted a piece of my hair. Was this his nice way of saying, "Why would I want ONE girlfriend when I could have fifty girls falling at my feet on a regular basis?"

  "I know girls like to be in touch all the time, too. My last girlfriend was always on me about not texting her enough or calling," he said. "But, you know, I text when I can and all."

  My mind was filled with questions about his old girlfriend, but I just said, "Uh-huh."

  "A lot of the guys on the basketball team, they're a lot older, and they say their girlfriends are always getting on them about not doing enough, you know? My friends — the guys in my grade – don't have serious girlfriends. It's more like we go to the movies in a group sometimes. I dunno. What about you and your friends?" he asked.

  I gulped. "What do you mean?"

  "Do your friends have boyfriends or date a lot?"

  Ashanti had Jay calling her, but other than Devon and India's trail of guys drooling over them, none of my other friends had ever even had a boyfriend. I wasn't even sure if I could count my day at the mall with Nikolas as a date. It kind of was a date seeing as Nik had called me and asked me to meet him there. Plus, I'd sound less pathetic if I seemed like I had been on at least one date before I met Vladi.

  "No. It's more like they're just…um…"

  "Talking?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I said, feeling relieved he filled in the blank. "Nothing serious." Oh crap, why had I said that? Now it seemed like I was okay with having "nothing serious" in my life, too. I didn't want to walk down the aisle — although if we did in the future, I had the perfect dress in mind — but I didn't want him to feel like he could date other people either.

  "I guess it's a little harder to date at a smaller school like Hillcrest, huh?" he asked.

  "Yeah, there's one guy who has dated like, everyone in my class twice," I said, thinking of Kyle.

  "Have you gone out with him?"

  "No, he…." Would never be interested in me. Wouldn't look in my direction. Barely noticed I existed unless he needed homework help. "Um, he isn't my type," I said.

  "So you don't go out every weekend?"

  Did he mean with guys or just friends? I was torn between trying to look cool and trying to be myself. Oh well, if he was going to like me, then he'd have to like the real me.

  "I go out to the movies sometimes or to the mall," I said, "but just with girlfriends. My mom kind of watches how often I go out, and if I have a modeling thing coming up, she won't let me spend the night at a friend's. So I go out when I can, but my mom insists homework comes first."

  "My parents are the same way. School first, then basketball."

  "Yup, and my mom says I have to treat modeling like a job, so I sometimes miss out on stuff with friends. Although I haven't had any modeling events in a while."

  "Do you like it? Modeling, I mean. You never talk about it much."

  I paused. I hadn't been crazy about any of the jobs I had done. I hated getting my picture taken, mostly because I only felt pretty while they were snapping away, and then I saw how goofy I looked when I had too big of a smile or when one of my eyes was half-closed. Plus, I hated when they enlarged the shots and I saw my flaws or overheard what they'd have to fix on my picture, like my giant pores. Runway work made me nervous, and I hated getting my makeup done. It seemed like the eye makeup always made my eyes water. I didn't like being poked by stylists either, but I kept at it, thinking eventually I'd get to the "good part." One day, I'd be on the cover of something or in a major ad campaign. I just had to hang in there a little longer, and it'd pay off, right?

  "It's okay. My favorite model, Talisa Milan, says you have to pay your dues, so that's kind of what I'm doing now. Learning about the job and stuff," I said.

  "Is this what you want to do for a real job later?" he asked.

  How did I tell him I only wanted to continue with it as an adult if I was hugely famous and successful? Because doing more boring runway shows in places that sold spit-up rags and teething rings was not my idea of hitting the big time.

  "I don't know," I said. "It depends on what happens down the road."

  "Yeah, I get that. People always ask me if I want to play professional basketball, and I don't know either. I'm not even sixteen yet, and already college scouts know my name, but I don't know if I want to play for like, a job."

  "It's a big decision," I said, staring at my face in the mirror. Who knew if I'd even be able to keep modeling? For the moment it was okay to be at the low end of the model height range, but what if I didn't get any taller? Some days I felt like I was too tall for eighth grade and the real world, but not tall enough for modeling. I hated towering over the guys in my class, but also knew I might miss out on modeling jobs due to my height.

  "It's cool you understand what I'm going through. The pressures, the homework stuff, and the fact I don't have a lot of free time," he said.

  "I'm kind of dealing with the same thing." Well, minus the pressure, since no one in the modeling world had given me a fat contract or even knew I existed.

  "So I know I said I don't have time for a girlfriend and all, but…would you want to be my girlfriend anyway?" he asked.

  My heart shot up three stories to my head. Did he just ask what I thought he did? Was he serious or just playing around?

  "For real?" I asked.

  "Yeah," he said.

  "Yes. Yeah, I would."

  "I'm so glad to hear you say that. I got kind of nervous when you didn't say anything at first," he said.

  I laughed. "No, you — I was surprised, that's all."

  "So I guess I have a girlfriend now," he said.

  I could tell he was smiling when he said it.

  "Yeah, me, too…Oh, wait, no. I mean, I have a boyfriend." Shut up, shut up, shut up. Why couldn't I be normal for two minutes?

  He started laughing. "I knew what you meant. I gotta go, but we'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

  I got off the phone and threw myself backwards on the bed. I had a boyfriend. Not just any boyfriend, but Vladi Yagudin, the sweetest, nicest…and hottest guy. Actually, he should be the one modeling, not me.

  I picked my phone back up and texted Ashanti. She immediately called me.

  "Ahhh! That is so cool. I mean, I knew it would happen, but this is major. May-jor," she said.

  "I'm so excited," I said. "I can't believe he asked me."

  "Why not you? You're amazing. Uber-adorable."

  I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."

  She said she had to go because her dad wanted her to take her clothes out of the dryer before she went to bed.

  "My parents need to hire a maid. Has that man seen me fold? The clothes would look better lying in a heap in the dryer," she said. "See you tomorrow."

  I sent Tori a text about Vladi, and she said she was happy for me, but she said she was on the phone with Ericka and couldn't talk.

  Ericka's got a crisis. We'll talk tomorrow. Maybe you can come over after school. TTYL.

  I sent back a smiley face and said I'd see her tomorrow. Then I went to look in the mirror. I appeared exactly the same as I did before, only now I had an actual, official boyfriend. Things were looking pretty amazing right now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next day Mom told me Mrs. Myeski had called and wanted me to get my hair cut so I'd have more variety for my portfolio. Plus, she said the American Ingénue people wanted to use some of the girls who didn't go on in the last competition for online videos to promote their sponsor's products, and they had specifically requested me for one of the hai
r makeover videos. I wasn't sure whether to be flattered they wanted to use me or embarrassed it was for a hair makeover segment. I was nervous about it, but Mom said Mrs. Myeski had said there would just be a couple of people there to film it and there was a chance they might not even upload it on their website. My fears were overtaken by the idea of some casting director out there seeing me on one of these videos and thinking I was the perfect person to star in a brand new movie, music video, commercial, or TV series. So of course, I said I'd do it.

  Mrs. Myeski said we were going to do it after school, and they were going to film me as I got my hair trimmed. I liked the way the last hair stylist cut it, so I wasn't nervous about getting my hair cut. Mom drove me to the salon and let me go in while she parked. The lobby was painted a shimmery copper color, and there were big marble columns. Even the counter was shiny mahogany. Sheesh, my mom used to take me to get my hair cut at a place that had a baby airplane chair and offered free balloons and cookies when they were done. I never took a balloon, but even I wasn't about to pass up a free cookie. This place wouldn't have cookies; they'd probably have those brick-like cookies that coffee shops served with espresso. I never got why anyone bought those. They tasted like dried-out sponges.

  "Hi, I'm Landry Albright," I said, walking up to the desk. "I have a five o'clock with Michaela."

  Michaela came up then. "We had a cut in mind for you," she said. "It's layered around your face, with your longest layer a little past your shoulders. The bangs are jagged but still soft, and the color will stay the same."

  I sat in a plastic chair and waited for the camera guy to set up. Michaela showed me a picture of a girl with face-framing layers to give me an idea of what my hair would look like. My mom had a similar hairstyle, which was depressing. Who doesn't want to look and be trendier than their mother? Since I had started the Little Rose competitions, it seemed like everyone thought she was the model and I was trying to catch up to her.