“Thanks,” I said. The other girls eyed me but didn’t say anything. “I’m Brooke,” I said.
“So,” Mindy began, leaning toward me from across the table, her eyes shining with excitement. “Tell us!”
I opened my lunch bag and said, “Tell you what?”
Mindy rolled her eyes and said, “About what happened! We’ve all been talking about it.” Her friends nodded anxiously, and I wondered what my defect was that everyone else had made new friends and I hadn’t.
“Do you and Shawna still talk?” I asked, because they were as close as Madeline and I were, but they got separated by the school district lines.
“Shawna?” Mindy wrinkled her nose as if I had mentioned a skeevy ex-boyfriend. “She goes to Ranger.”
“That’s true,” I said. Was she being serious? “Those long-distance text and IM fees are probably pretty huge.”
Mindy rolled her eyes. “I just mean we have different lives now. I don’t even know what classes she’s taking.”
“Who’s Shawna?” one of the girls asked.
“This girl I used to know,” Mindy said.
Ouch. Nuff said.
One girl, a blonde with a flat face and sharp chin, asked, “So is it true that Madeline called you trailer trash?”
“No!” I said, truly shocked. Where had that come from? Why would someone even think to say that to me? Had Madeline said something like that?
“Man, Emily, have some sympathy,” Mindy told her. “Sorry, Brooke. But if you don’t set the record straight, there will be rumors. What else are we supposed to do? Stories are flying. We grab on to what we can.”
“Thanks for clarifying,” I said. “The story is, Madeline and I had a little fight but it’s no big deal. It’ll all blow over by Monday.”
All four girls looked at me like I’d just clucked in Morse code. I unwrapped my turkey sandwich and started eating.
I wasn’t sure where I’d sit on Monday, but it wouldn’t be with them. Apparently, I was still homeless.
I’m not proud to admit this, but Friday I skipped lunch by hiding in the halls, the library, and the bathroom. It was the longest thirty-seven minutes of my life. As I leaned against a sink in a bathroom on the far side of the school near the shop classes, I knew I was doomed for a life with bottom-feeders and tattletales. So what the heck; I decided I’d try sitting with Stacey Beckerman at lunch on Monday.
But in second-period science class, a note landed on my desk.
I looked around and saw the girl who sat next to me, Corrine, with a look on her face like, It totally and completely wasn’t me who threw that note on your desk. Which, of course, meant she had.
The note read:
Are you friends with Susanna Gilman?
I almost dropped the note after reading such a horrible accusation.
Um, NO, I wrote. Why?
Saw you NOT sitting with her yesterday, but you did sit with her before. Got any lunch plans today?
I like hanging out in the bathroom by the shop classes. The smell of sawdust tickles my nose just so. Why?
Oh, yes. It goes well with the general urine-ness of that particular part of school. Well, if you can pull yourself away, feel free to sit with me and my friend Lily. She’s quiet but cool. I am not quiet and cool.
Okay, sounds good.
We’ll save ya a seat.
After class all she said was, “See you at lunch, Brooke.”
I wondered if it was all turning around for me, or if I was about to step into some sort of junior-high-world trap.
When I walked into the lunchroom, I felt that dread again about not finding a seat, people staring at me and laughing, throwing french fries at my head, etc. I purposely took my time getting there so I wouldn’t have to see Madeline at the locker and wouldn’t have to wait for Corrine and her friend Lily. What if I sat at the wrong table?
Luckily I spotted Corrine quickly, and she waved me over.
“Hey,” I said, sitting across from her and her friend. “Hey, Lily,” I said.
“Hey, Brooke,” she replied. Turns out she was the petite squeaky girl who sat next to me in Foods for Living.
“I didn’t know you and Corrine were friends,” I said, which was stupid because I didn’t know any of Corrine’s friends.
Corrine said, “You guys have some class together, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “The class just before lunch. Foods for Living.”
“Cool,” Corrine said, peeling pickle off her bologna sandwich. “We heard about your thing with your friend, and figured as long as you’re not friends with someone like Susanna Gilman then you can’t be all bad. Although we may have to discuss why you were ever friends with her in the first place.”
I was surprised by that. Just a few weeks at school and I’d already made the gossip rounds. Who knew anyone cared about who I fought with?
“I was never friends with her. My friend Madeline was. Is,” I clarified. “What do you know about Susanna Gilman?” I asked. I tried my best but I couldn’t help glancing over at her and Madeline eating lunch. Susanna was laughing with Natalie as Madeline poked her straw through a juice box.
“We went to elementary with her,” Corrine said. “Let’s just say, she has every line from that Mean Girls movie memorized.”
“She’s not that bad,” Lily said. “I think maybe she was bullied when she was younger or something.”
“Oh, sweet, Lily,” Corrine said. She looked at me then and said, “Lily can’t bear to think anything bad about anyone.”
“Well, I barely know Susanna,” she said. “You, too.”
“Lily, we went to school with her for six years!” Corrine said. “I think we know her well enough.”
Lily shrugged, and poked at her salad.
We finished lunch and walked out of the cafeteria together. Corrine said, “Sit with us again if you want.”
“Yeah,” Lily said. “It was fun.”
I went to homeroom feeling better than I had since . . . well, since I started junior high. Maybe making new friends was easier than I thought. Maybe all I had to do was try.
21 MADELINE
THE WEEKEND WAS AMAZING. WE ALL SLEPT at Susanna’s on Friday and stayed up until five in the morning. I’d never stayed up all night before. I didn’t get tired once because the whole time we were laughing and joking, and then running around the neighborhood TPing houses. We may have gotten Derek Sampayo’s house and we may have even knocked on his window and run away, but I would never tell.
Julia called a radio station and asked if she could dedicate a cheesy love song to Derek, and when the bored overnight DJ asked her name, she said Susanna Gilman and hung up the phone. It was hilarious. We never heard the dedication, but that was mainly because Susanna turned it off and insisted on Internet radio where there were no DJs involved for the rest of the night.
We slept in until 12:30 on Saturday, and then we all hung out at the mall for a couple of hours before deciding to go see a movie. We ran into Derek and one of his friends, and I almost passed out with embarrassment when they went into the same theater as us, and worse, when Derek sat next to me. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie because all I could think about was Derek’s every move and every breath, and if he liked me or what he thought of me. Had he sat next to me on purpose, or was he just being casual and it didn’t mean anything?
After that we decided we had to call an emergency meeting at Julia’s house to discuss Derek and what had happened (or didn’t or almost happened) at the movies. No way could I go home. I called Dad and asked if I could stay the night at her house; he didn’t care. So we basically just moved our overnight operation to Julia’s and did it all again. We discussed in detail the possibilities that Derek liked me, if I should like him back, and how to deal if he didn’t like me in the first place.
It wasn’t until Sunday night after I’d already showered and gotten ready for bed, that I noticed Mom wasn’t home.
I found Dad in the living roo
m with the lights turned down.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
For a moment he didn’t say anything, just turned and looked at me. It made me uneasy. “She’s at her place,” he said, and the weight of that struck me. I knew she was moving out, obviously, but hearing that she was gone, that she had a home that wasn’t ours, made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.
“So that’s it?” I asked Dad. “She’s gone?”
“Oh, honey. You’ll see her soon. As soon as she gets settled. Her, uh, place . . . it’s not fifteen minutes from here. I’m—she’ll call. Don’t you worry.”
His attempt at comforting me was pathetic. His words were empty and meaningless, like he was just reciting something someone told him to say to comfort his sad daughter.
When I went to bed I tried not to wonder what Mom was doing or what her new apartment looked like. I thought instead of Derek’s long lashes, and what it might feel like to have a boyfriend.
* * * *
“Why are you so mopey today?” Susanna asked while I waited for her at her locker before lunch.
“I’m not mopey,” I said. That morning, I’d noticed a picture hanging in the hall near the front door. It was of Mom and Dad from when I was little. Dad is kissing Mom’s neck while she laughs hysterically. I’d passed that picture so many times over the years but never really noticed it. Today I did, and I wondered how my parents could go from that to two people who couldn’t stand to be in the same house together.
“Oh my god, please. You’re wearing the classic long face,” Susanna said as she looked through her bag for lip gloss.
We started toward the cafeteria and I tried to remember a time when my parents hadn’t fought, a time when they actually liked each other. There was a ski trip we took one year, and I remember Dad, Mom, and me riding a chairlift up while Josh snowboarded with some guys he’d met at the lodge. I sat between them, and at one point Dad leaned over me and kissed Mom’s nose. I remembered how it made me smile to be squished between their love.
“There, you’re doing it again,” Susanna said. “Totally mopey. You have to cut that out.”
“I’m not mopey,” I said again.
“So mopey,” Susanna said.
“Fine,” I said. “I’m mopey. Who cares?”
“I do,” Susanna said as we walked into the cafeteria. “It’s bringing me down.”
Natalie and Julia were already at our table. Natalie instantly asked, “What’s wrong, Mad?”
“See?” Susanna said, and I decided to quit trying to keep it in.
“My mom has officially moved out and it sucks, okay?”
There. I got it out. Saying it out loud made it seem more official or something, but I did it. Mom had moved out of our house. She no longer lived with us, and she never would again.
“Oh, poor Madeline,” Susanna said, rubbing my back. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“I just did.”
“It’s horrible, I know. You guys remember when my parents split?” she asked Natalie and Julia.
“She was a monster,” Julia told me. “She snapped at anything we said and all she would eat was Ring-Dings and corn chips.”
“Gross,” I said, managing a small laugh.
“Hey, I deserved a free pass for going through all that,” Susanna said.
“So where’s my free pass?” I asked.
Susanna nodded. “Yes, you’re totally right. When your parents split—”
“And your mom leaves the house,” Julia added.
“You get a free pass to act moody or jerky for . . . how long? A week? Two weeks?”
“That’s definitely not enough time to mourn,” I said, liking how I was being distracted even though we were talking about the very thing that was upsetting me.
“That’s more than enough time, especially for your friends to have to deal with you,” Susanna said.
“We’ll deal as long as it takes for her to feel better,” Natalie said.
“Right,” Julia agreed.
“Oh, sure,” Susanna said. “Make me look like the jerk.”
“You are the jerk,” I teased.
“Ha, ha!” Natalie and Julia laughed, and then Susanna said, “That’s it. You asked for it. Oh, Derek! Derek!” She waved her hand in the air toward Derek, who sat just three tables away.
“Shut up!” I said, my face instantly flushing and panic setting in.
“Oh, Derek!” Susanna called again, but by then they were all laughing so hard she could barely get a word out, and I started laughing too. I didn’t realize until I got home that afternoon that I hadn’t thought of anything bad—parents or best friends of the former kind—all day. That had to be a good sign. Things were brightening up. They had to be. I thought that, from here on out, they wouldn’t get any worse.
How wrong I was.
22 BROOKE
I HAD LOST MY BEST FRIEND.
Aside from someone actually dying, I couldn’t imagine anything worse happening to me. I had no one I could trust, no one to tell my secrets to—if I had any (I should really think about getting some)—no go-to person to do things with, no one to laugh hysterically with or watch animated movies with or sleep over with.
It wasn’t one particular moment that I realized Madeline and I weren’t friends anymore. More like lots of little moments, and they all involved seeing her laugh so freely with Susanna and the other girls, or her making a grand effort to completely ignore me. Really, it was remarkable how she was able to act like I didn’t even exist. I could stare at her all through class and she never once batted a lash in my direction.
At the end of the first full week of our not talking, Corrine invited me to go to the movies and get some food on Friday night with her and Lily. It was over greasy mall pizza after the movie that I told them some, but not all, of what happened with Madeline. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them—or anyone—the things she’d said to me on the phone. Calling me a burden and telling me to get a life. I couldn’t stop hearing those words in my head.
“Her friends and I just never clicked. I’m pretty sure they hated me, actually,” I said.
“They probably did,” Corrine said.
“Corrine!” Lily gasped.
“Well, I’m just saying. Those girls don’t like anyone.”
“Yeah, well,” I said. “I didn’t exactly like them either. They did seem to stick to themselves. Anyway, we were all talking in lunch one day and we kind of got into it. Then Madeline never stood up for me to Susanna and then she said something really mean and then . . . I guess that was it. We haven’t been friends since.”
“That’s really awful,” Lily said. “A best friend should always stand up for you. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Brooke.”
Her blue eyes were so wide and sincere and her words made me feel so much better. “Thanks,” I told her. Looking around the food court, I said, “I wonder if she’s here.” Without meaning to, I’d been watching out for her all night. Every time I saw someone with her same color hair or same height, my heart would race. I wanted to see her but was afraid of what would happen if I did. She’d probably ignore me, but what if she said something mean to my face? What if Susanna was with her and they both said something? How would I react?
“What would do you if you saw her?” Lily asked.
I thought for a moment, picturing Madeline’s face in front of mine. “I have no idea.”
“I’d give her a wedgie,” Corrine said, and we smiled. “I don’t know what she said to you, but if she hangs around those OMG girls . . . oh, forget it, never mind. I don’t want to say anything bad about your friend.”
“What’s an OMG girl?” I asked.
“Susanna, Natalie, and Julia? Haven’t you ever noticed how they always say, ‘Oh my god!’ Like, in every sentence.”
Lily said, “They don’t say it every sentence.”
“Most of them,” Corrine said.
“That’s true,” Lily conceded. “Most of them.”
A smile crept across her face. “Okay, a little bit.”
“Ha! I knew it,” Corrine said. “And you know it’s bad when Lily agrees.”
I smiled, watching them. I liked how gently Corrine teased Lily, how I never once wondered if there was a vicious undertone to anything she said to her.
“Well, listen,” Corrine said. “I’m sorry you had a big fight with Madeline, and if you decide to make up with her that’s cool. It’s up to you. But honestly, the way those OMG girls act, it’s like they’re a lost cause. Only someone like Lily could save them.”
Was she right? Was Madeline a lost cause? How could my best friend change so quickly? I looked at the pizza grease resting on my paper plate and wondered if things could really change so quickly and, if so, could they ever change back? And would I want them to?
At home that night, I told myself I had to accept the truth that my friendship with Madeline had run its course. We were really over. If she felt a shred of guilt for hanging me out to dry and for what she said, she would have said something by now. It’s not like she hasn’t had plenty of chances.
So that’s it, I thought. I no longer have a best friend. I knew it before but only as an idea I was trying on, like sunglasses I knew were too big but I wanted to see how they looked anyway. It was time to accept the facts, though. As horrible as it was, I had to let go of hoping some miraculous event would bring us back together, erase what happened, and leave both of us with no guilt or feelings of resentment toward each other.
As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered what she was doing, and if she missed me at all.
23 MADELINE
FRIDAY NIGHT I COULDN’T SLEEP. SUSANNA WAS spending the weekend at her grandmother’s, and Natalie and Julia had tickets to some concert. Josh was going to the football game but before he left, he stuck his head in my room.
“Hey, loser,” he said. “Staying home to wash your hair?”
BFF Breakup Page 10
