© 2012 by Melody Carlson
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-4412-3783-5
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Scripture quotations are from the Contemporary English Version © 1991, 1992, 1995 by American Bible Society. Used by permission.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
About Melody Carlson
Books by Melody Carlson
Back Ads
Back Cover
one
Lishia Vance grimaced to see that her regular lunch table was nearly full. As usual, no one had saved a place for her. Well, except for that pathetic little spot down on the end of the bench. As she sat down, squeezing herself onto about four inches of bench, completely unnoticed by her so-called friends, she wondered what was wrong with her. Why had everyone turned against her this year?
She sighed as she shoved her straw into her soda. It had been bad enough to get dumped by her boyfriend last summer, but shortly after that her best friend had dropped her as well. What an impressive way to start her junior year at Kingston High! Now, several weeks later, Lishia’s self-esteem had plummeted so low that she found herself schlepping from class to class. Even now she kept her eyes on her tray, not saying a word to her “friends.” Not that they seemed to notice or care.
This social isolation was taking its toll on her, and she wondered what had become of the happy girl she used to be. She felt like someone had nuked her life when she wasn’t looking. Like one day everything was totally cool, and the next day . . . it was over.
On a good day, which was rare, she could admit to herself that the breakup with Daniel had been for the best—especially after he dropped out of youth group last summer. However, truth be told, Lishia did not miss Daniel nearly as much as she missed her best friend. And she wasn’t dumb. She had seen it coming. Last summer Janelle had started hanging with her neighbor (a drop-dead gorgeous girl who’d just moved in), and suddenly those two were inseparable. Naturally, Lishia was left out in the cold. Who wouldn’t have felt hurt?
“I’m just trying to be a good Christian and a good friend to Chelsea.” Janelle would use this as her excuse each time she declined Lishia’s invitations to do something. Janelle always claimed it was because Chelsea was new in town and she was lonely. Like Lishia wasn’t lonely?
Janelle had seemed oblivious to the fact that Lishia had been in real pain and was even struggling with her faith as a result. But, as usual, Lishia kept her feelings to herself, pulling further away as she watched Janelle and Chelsea’s friendship growing stronger. It didn’t help that Chelsea Martin was a knockout or that all the youth group kids seemed strangely drawn to her. And it had only grown worse when school started. Sometimes Lishia felt like she hated—seriously hated—Chelsea Martin.
Lishia knew it was wrong to feel like that. As a Christian, she should be above petty jealousy. Shouldn’t she? Or maybe she was just fooling herself. Because the truth was, Lishia not only envied Chelsea, but she secretly imagined unfortunate things happening to the vivacious girl. Oh, not anything horrible like death or dismemberment, but it would be delightful to see Chelsea emerge from the restroom with, say, a trail of toilet paper dragging from the backside of her jeans. Or maybe Chelsea could break out in big ugly hives, or get an enormous zit on the tip of her perfect nose, or simply have a bad hair day. Not that any of this was likely. If anything, Lishia was the one who seemed more subject to those sorts of predicaments.
Even today, as she’d passed by Chelsea (who’d been sitting in the center spot at the lunch table, relaying some enthralling tale), Lishia had controlled herself from “accidentally” tilting her tray and allowing her large Sierra Mist to topple over and splat right down on that beautiful blonde mane of hair. Instead, Lishia had played the role of the mouse and was now quietly sitting here feeling alone and left out—and bitter. And it was all Chelsea’s fault. Lishia glanced over at the laughing girl, wishing she’d gag on her cheeseburger and vomit all over everyone.
Lishia looked away and, biting her lip, reprimanded herself for harboring such evil thoughts toward Chelsea. Really, what was happening to her? It was like her faith was slipping right between her fingers. Like if she wasn’t careful, she might lose it altogether. Maybe she already had.
Lishia studied her “friends” and wondered what they would think if they knew how precarious she felt right now. After all, they were supposed to be Christians . . . but did they care about her or how she was suffering? It sure didn’t feel like it.
Okay, to be honest, not all of her youth group friends had totally ignored her. In fact, Megan Bernard had actually gone out of her way to be friendly a number of times. But Lishia had never really liked Megan that much. She was kind of a blabbermouth and had absolutely no sense of style. Still, Megan might be better than having no friends at all.
As Lishia unwrapped her burrito, she had to admit that she was probably as much to blame for her friendless state as anyone. But it was like she was trapped, feeling more and more out of sorts and more and more left out, like she had created this wall around herself and now had no idea how to get over it. If only someone else would try to knock it down for her. Wasn’t that what friends were supposed to do?
She took a bite of her burrito and wished she was a stronger Christian—the kind of person who became stronger through her trials, able to forgive and forget and move on with her life. It shouldn’t be this difficult, should it? It wasn’t as if she wasn’t trying to be a stronger Christian. Out of real desperation, she’d started to study her Bible, reading about “the fruit of the Spirit.” She’d even memorized the character qualities. As she chewed, she ran the list through her head. Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Those were great-sounding qualities, and she wanted them in her life. However, she wasn’t quite sure how to get them.
And just now, feeling forced to overhear Janelle and Chelsea’s retelling of their “big adventure”—some crazy stunt they’d pulled off at last weekend’s youth group retreat (the same retreat that Lishia, feeling friendless, had boycotted)—felt like way too much longsuffering. Seriously, her patience was wearing thin. Why didn’t her friends care about how left out she felt right now?
She considered that list of qualities as she took a slow sip of soda, but it only frustrated her more. Her chances of exhibiting love and kindness were steadily shrinking. She didn’t feel a milliliter of joy or goodness about anyone or anything
today. The only kind of fruit she was going to experience was the Granny Smith apple on the corner of her lunch tray.
She took one slow last look at her oblivious friends, then picked up her tray and bag and simply walked away. She didn’t say a word to anyone. Not that anyone would care, since they were so entranced by the story Chelsea and Janelle were regaling them with, going on about how they’d dressed up like other people and pulled off some kind of crazy charade at the retreat. She could hear their laughter as she walked away—not directed at her, of course, but excluding her all the same. As she crossed the cafeteria, she realized the most irksome part about walking away was that no one bothered to question why she was leaving before finishing her lunch. The sad truth was that no one even seemed to notice.
With a lump in her throat and a rock in her stomach, Lishia decided to dump her half-eaten lunch. But on her way to the trash can, she noticed Riley Atkins sitting alone. Slightly hunched over with her eyes downward, Riley stared at her green salad as if it were the most interesting object on earth. Lishia stopped in her tracks to stare at this oddity—not that Riley was infatuated with her salad, but that Riley was by herself. Because Riley Atkins never sat by herself. At least not to Lishia’s knowledge. Riley was usually smack-dab in the middle of a small crowd of boisterous and popular kids. It simply was what it was—and there were reasons why.
For starters, Riley was a popular cheerleader. That alone seemed to demand the company of a few friends. Lishia knew this from experience since she’d been a cheerleader once too, way back in middle school. Besides that, Riley had a high-profile boyfriend. At least she used to—Lishia wasn’t so sure about that now. Dayton Moore, star football player at Kingston High, had been Riley’s main squeeze for ages. And Dayton almost always attracted a small crowd. But now he was over there and Riley was alone. Something was definitely wrong.
Lishia was nearly to the trash cans when she turned around to study Riley again. Maybe it was her imagination, but something about Riley’s demeanor looked so sad and downhearted that Lishia knew she needed to at least inquire. After all, Riley and Lishia had been pretty good friends back in middle school. And although they weren’t really friends now, they still exchanged words sometimes.
“Hey, Riley,” Lishia said gently.
Riley looked up with sad blue eyes. “Hey, Lishia.” Her voice sounded dull and a little rough around the edges.
“Anyone sitting here?” Lishia gave her a hopeful smile.
Riley shrugged. “Doesn’t look like it, does it?”
Lishia took this as an invitation and sat down across from her. “You okay?”
Riley let out a long, sad sigh. “Not exactly.”
“I’m sorry.” Lishia took a sip of her soda. “Want to talk about it?”
Riley looked a bit suspicious now.
“Or not.” Lishia shrugged. “Although we used to be friends.” She picked up her half eaten burrito and took a bite.
“Why aren’t you sitting with your youth group friends?” Riley asked with a slightly accusing tone, as if there was something wrong with being part of youth group. And for all Lishia knew, maybe there was.
Lishia chewed slowly as she tried to think of an answer less humiliating than the truth.
“Please don’t tell me you’re on some kind of mission to save me.” Riley’s voice suddenly grew irritated. “Because I really can’t handle that right now, if you don’t mind.”
“No way.” Lishia shook her head and swallowed. “I just thought you looked lonely.”
“Just because I’m sitting alone does not mean I’m lonely.” Riley glared at her. “Maybe I’m tired of all the noise.”
Lishia nodded. “Well, the truth is, I’m feeling kinda lonely today.”
Riley seemed caught off guard. “Really? You’re lonely?”
“Yeah.” To her own surprise, Lishia opened up by confessing about how she’d been replaced as Janelle’s best friend. “Chelsea Martin is nice and all, but I just feel so—”
“Are you kidding me?” Riley slammed down her fork with a vengeance. “I hate that stupid Chelsea Martin.”
“Seriously?”
“She’s the one who messed things up between Dayton and me.”
“So you and Dayton aren’t together anymore?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hadn’t you heard?”
“And Chelsea is the reason?” Lishia leaned forward with interest. “How so?”
“When she first moved here, Dayton and I were about to get back together. You know, right before school started. But suddenly he was like totally smitten by this new girl. Of course, I figured it all out as soon as I saw him gaping at her.” Riley scrunched up her nose. “I mean, sure, I suppose she’s pretty hot . . . that is, if you like that kind of look, which Dayton obviously seems to appreciate.” She shook her head.
Lishia tried not to laugh because the truth was, Riley’s look wasn’t all that much different from Chelsea’s—in that blue-eyed blonde babe sort of way. But to be honest, though Lishia wasn’t about to admit it, Chelsea was probably prettier than Riley.
“Then, even though Chelsea wasn’t interested in Dayton, he kept obsessing over her, like he actually thought he was going to win her over just by drooling and acting like a total idiot. Well, after a while, I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Dayton to forget it, that I’d never go back even if he was the last guy on the planet.”
“All because of Chelsea?”
Riley nodded as she took a bite of her salad.
“So that’s why you’re sitting alone now?” Lishia felt confused. It sounded like she and Dayton had broken up a while back.
“No, that is not why I’m sitting alone now.” Riley sounded aggravated, as if whatever was troubling her should be obvious.
“Oh . . .” Lishia decided to focus on finishing her lunch and moving on. It seemed that talking to Riley was a bad idea.
“I’m sorry,” Riley blurted unexpectedly. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. It’s just that my friends have been so cruel to me.”
Lishia looked up. “Your friends are cruel to you?” Usually Riley’s friends saved their meanness for girls like Lishia. Picking on Riley gave it a whole new twist—and in a twisted way, it was oddly refreshing. Not that Lishia planned to mention it.
Riley nodded with misty eyes. “In fact, Amanda just told me off.” She sniffed indignantly. “Right in front of everyone too. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”
Lishia blinked. “Amanda told you off?” Amanda Jorgenson, also a cheerleader, was usually the nicest one of that particular group—maybe even the nicest girl in the whole school. Lishia thought that Amanda and Riley were pretty close friends. Maybe even best friends. Lishia couldn’t imagine Amanda telling off Riley like that. “Why would she do that to you?”
“All because of stupid Gillian.” Riley glanced over her shoulder toward the noisy table where her friends were seated. “I hate her!”
Now Lishia felt confused. “Amanda was mean to you because of Gillian Rodowski?”
Riley scowled as she stabbed her fork into a cucumber slice like it was a Gillian Rodowski voodoo doll.
“But why?”
Riley slammed down her fork. “Because I simply made a perfectly innocent comment.”
“A comment?”
“About Gillian’s total lack of loyalty.”
“Loyalty to what?”
“To me.” Riley narrowed her eyes. “Haven’t you heard that Gillian and Dayton started dating recently?”
“I guess I missed that one too.”
“Well, they did. They got together last weekend. And Gillian knew full well that I wanted to get back with him. Just the same, she put the move on him, and now it’s really over between Dayton and me.”
Lishia wasn’t sure how to respond. Hadn’t Riley just said that it was over and she wouldn’t take him back if he was the only guy on earth? Still, Lishia didn’t want to appear unsympathetic. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“That must’ve hurt.”
Riley nodded, picking up her fork again.
“I guess we have something in common,” Lishia told her. “We both feel like outsiders today.”
Riley peered curiously at Lishia. “It must be even harder on you.”
“Huh?” Lishia wasn’t sure what Riley was referring to.
“I mean not being a cheerleader anymore. At least I still have that.”
Lishia shrugged. It was bad enough feeling like she’d lost her boyfriend and best friend this fall; she didn’t want to be reminded of an uncomfortable memory now. She’d been such a fool to try out for varsity cheerleading last spring. Really, what had she been thinking?
“You know, you used to be really good, Lish. I mean, back in middle school,” Riley said. “Don’t you ever miss it?”
“Sometimes I do,” Lishia admitted. “But I know it’s a lot of work too.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So I’m okay with cheering from the sidelines.” Lishia forced a smile. The truth was, she sometimes felt envious of the cheerleaders, kicking and jumping in their purple-and-white uniforms. She wondered if perhaps she’d practiced a bit more, taken it a little more seriously . . . would she have made the team? Back then Janelle had made fun of her for even trying, making comments like “Cheerleaders can jump high because their heads are full of hot air.”
Riley’s brow creased like she was thinking hard. “You know, you were really good at tryouts last year, Lishia.”
“Thanks.” Lishia felt her smile grow more genuine. That was high praise coming from someone like Riley.
“I think you actually came pretty close to making the team.”
Lishia sighed. “Maybe so, but like my dad says, close is only good in horseshoes and hand grenades.”
Riley looked amused. “Hey, does your dad still have that horseshoes pit in the backyard?”
Lishia nodded.
“Remember that slumber party you had at the end of eighth grade?” Riley gave a mischievous grin.
“When the boys crashed?”
Riley nodded. “Your dad was so outraged.”
“And I got grounded too.”
The Best Friend Page 1
