Bea clutched her stomach as we walked. “I’m so full.”
I groaned. “Ugh, me too. The chocolate fountain killed me. I think I ate my weight in chocolate-covered pound cake. Oh, and those Rice Krispies treats, and the giant marshmallows, and those double chocolate chip cookies. I never thought I would say this, but I ate way too much.”
“I was all over that macaroni and cheese. I dream about the banquet mac and cheese all year,” Bea said.
I stopped walking in the middle of the path. “I’m sorry. I feel so bad about the things I said to you. I am a horrible person who shouldn’t be allowed around other people sometimes.”
Bea shook her head. “I said some pretty crappy things, too. But I don’t understand why you said all of those things first.”
I looked Bea in the eyes. “I’m not just sorry about being so mean the other day. I’m sorry for dropping you. I really meant it when I told you I was sorry the first time. My apology wasn’t about the pact. I feel terrible about the way I treated you.”
“You broke my heart when you left me behind. It felt like when my father left, only worse because at least when he left, I still had you. When you abandoned me, I had no one,” Bea whispered.
I tried to respond, but I was crying too hard.
“What did I do?” Bea’s eyes welled up with tears. “What made you not want to be my friend anymore? Why wasn’t I good enough for you?”
I swallowed down tears and grabbed Bea’s hand and squeezed it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I swear. But, you were getting too close…”
Bea shook her head. “Too close to what?”
“To figuring out my secret,” I said, rubbing my eyes with my sleeves.
“I’m sorry I tuned you out when you tried to tell me. I’m listening now,” said Bea. “Maybe I can help.”
I took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. “Even you can’t help me with this one.”
Bea looked me in the eyes. “You can trust me. Maybe it would help a little bit just to talk to me about it.”
I clenched my hands into tight balls as I said the words out loud that I had been terrified to admit out loud to anyone. “My mom is addicted to prescription pain pills.”
Bea started blinking very fast, like her brain was trying to process this unexpected news. “But your mom… your mom is just so… she’s just so…”
“Perfect? That’s what you were thinking, right?”
“And I thought your life was so perfect, too,” finished Bea. Her cheeks were so red, it looked like her freckles were flashing.
“Do you remember that big fight I got in with my mom?” I asked.
Bea clapped her hand over her mouth. “That last time I was at your house, before I left for camp…”
“Mom wanted to drive us to the mall. But she was wasted. I couldn’t let you get in the car with her like that, but there was no way I was gonna tell you what was going on.”
Bea slowly nodded. “So you got in a big fight with your mom about her borrowing your shirt. Then she got so mad at you, she refused to take us to the mall.”
“I didn’t know what else to do,” I said. “I didn’t want you getting hurt.”
Bea wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”
I looked at the ground. “I was scared. If you found out, you would’ve told your mom.”
“I would’ve kept your secret,” Bea said. “We always kept each other’s secrets.”
I sighed. “If you knew how bad it was, you would’ve had to tell your mom. Trust me. It was that bad.”
“How did it happen? I mean… your mom was president of the PTA,” Bea said. “She did everything. She ran half marathons, for goodness’ sake. How does something like that happen to someone like your mom?”
I swatted at a mosquito that was buzzing around my hair. “Remember when my mom hurt her Achilles tendon during the Mapleton Turkey Trot?”
Bea nodded with wide eyes.
“After the surgery to repair it, the doctor prescribed her Oxycodone. At first, she made jokes about how it made her feel calm and helped her finally stop worrying about all the things she had to do. Addy and I thought it was great because Mom was finally too relaxed to micromanage us. But we had no idea what we were getting into. By the time she finished that first bottle she was addicted,” I said.
“That’s awful.” Bea’s eyes were wide and wet. “I don’t even know what to say.”
The funny thing was that I knew what to say. I could talk about this now. After meeting with Dr. Beth all summer, it was getting easier.
“Back when it was first happening, I was scared all the time. Scared people would find out what was going on and make fun of me. Scared that no one would ever find out and Addy and I would have to keep this secret forever. Scared that my mom… that my mom would die.”
Bea put her hand on my back and started rubbing it in counterclockwise circles, which used to be her way to calm me down when I was worried about something. “Oh, Maisy, I’m so sorry. I wish you had come to me.”
It was finally time to get real with Bea. “I knew the second you found out, you would have no choice but to tell your mom. I couldn’t risk that, so I pushed you away.”
Bea’s face crumpled. “For the M & Ms? To be popular?”
“It wasn’t about being popular. I needed to hang out with people who don’t really dig deep. Who don’t notice things because they’re too busy shopping and taking selfies. Girls who would never figure out my secret.”
Bea’s jaw dropped. “Your mom’s been sick the whole time you’ve been friends with the M & Ms and they don’t know?”
“All they care about is clothes, hair, makeup, and boys. Also, we spend most of our time at Mia’s house because her brother has cute friends. I know it sounds bad, but it’s what I needed. I needed to hide behind people who don’t care about anything that truly matters.”
Bea looked me straight in the eyes. “I care.”
I smiled back at her and said, “I know.”
“You have me back now. No matter what happens with your mom, I’ll be there for you,” Bea said.
I breathed out all of the air that had been trapped in my lungs for what felt like forever. “You have me back, too. For real this time.”
BEA
The next morning, we were all on the bus heading back to our respective homes. Isa, Maisy, and I were squeezed into one seat and Poppy and Hannah were in the seat across from us. The bus smelled like Doritos, Fruit Roll-Ups, and sweaty feet, a scent I usually loved on the way to camp because it meant I had the whole summer ahead with my friends but that I hated on the way home because it meant I was leaving my friends behind. This time, however, I was ready to go back to Mapleton.
Poppy held up the shiny gold cup. “I can’t wait to bring this to Nana Mary. She has her team’s cup on display in her room at the nursing home. She always says earning that cup is one of her life’s biggest achievements. She says it’s right up there with meeting Grandfather and having children.”
“No offense, girls, but I hope meeting my future husband will be more life-changing than winning this cup,” said Hannah.
I nodded. “Agreed.”
“My mom is already talking about putting this on my college apps. I really don’t think Stanford is gonna care about some camp tournament, but whatever,” said Isa.
I looked back at the normally boisterous Dandelion Bunk girls, who were unnaturally quiet, in the seats a few rows back from us. The A twins were leaning against each other, napping on and off in one seat, while Tinka and Kaya wordlessly stared out the window in the adjacent seat.
I leaned over to Poppy’s seat and pushed the cup down, so it wasn’t so noticeable. “Let’s try to be more low-key,” I said. “I kinda feel bad for the Dandelion girls. We took away their one shot at winning the tournament.”
“What about next year?” asked Maisy, whose lips and tongue were bright blue from her pack of Sour Patch Blue Ra
spberry.
“No more tournaments for any of us. From here on out, we become senior campers, then Counselors in Training,” I said.
Isa scrunched up her nose. “How can you feel bad for them? They’re mean and vindictive girls who didn’t deserve to win.” She popped open a bag of Doritos. “Besides, we were just better than them.”
I sighed. “I just wonder what they’re carrying around.”
Hannah laughed. “Kaya’s carrying around ten pounds of makeup, hair extensions, and fake lashes; Tinka has lots of hair dye and jewelry for all her piercings; and I heard the A twins carry ten-pound medicine balls in their backpacks.”
Isa gave her a high five. “Good one!”
“That’s not what I meant,” I started.
Maisy cut in. “What she means is that we don’t know what they’re going through. We don’t know what kind of stuff is stressing them out. I don’t even think you guys know why you hate them anymore and they probably don’t know why they hate you either.”
“Look at Maisy and me,” I added. “We both had two different sides to the same story all this time.”
The bus brakes screeched as the driver pulled into the drop-off point for all the girls living in the Five Boroughs. Isa, Poppy, and Hannah stood up and groaned.
“This is it for us,” said Isa, as she grabbed her body-bag-sized duffle.
Tears streamed down Poppy’s face as she stood up. “I hate saying goodbye.”
“Me too,” said Hannah.
“Me three,” said Isa in a wry tone.
The A twins pushed past the girls and shoved them so hard that Doritos flew out of Isa’s hand onto everyone within a five-foot radius.
Isa smirked. “Different sides to the same story, huh?”
We all laughed and threw ourselves into a group goodbye hug. Next thing we knew, the bus driver was yelling for the girls to hurry, and we were shouting directions to them to text in our group convo every day and to plan a fall meet-up in the city. It was always hard to say goodbye to my bunkmates at the end of the summer. But this time it was a little easier because I had Maisy. I had a piece of camp with me at school.
Maisy and I waved at the girls as the bus pulled away. Then Maisy disconnected the portable charger that was hooked into her phone and cheered. “Finally! My phone is charged.”
I didn’t care about my own phone. It’s not like anyone had been texting me or reaching out to me on social media all summer. But Maisy’s phone was our connection to the M & Ms.
Maisy groaned. “Ugh, I lost all my Snapchat streaks.”
I scooted in closer to see Maisy’s phone. “Go on Instagram to see what the M & Ms are up to so we can make a plan.”
“I’ll go on Madison’s account since she posts the most,” Maisy said.
“Good idea,” I said. I was ready to get our plan rolling in motion. We only had a week till the first day of school so we needed to get moving.
Maisy’s jaw dropped when she looked at the picture on Madison’s account. It looked totally normal to me. Just a group of girls hanging out by the pool wearing the season’s trendiest bathing suits and sunglasses, their skin golden from the sun, and the photo snapped before anyone got their perfect hair wet.
“What?” I asked, with a knot in my stomach. “What’s wrong?”
Maisy clasped her hands on the top of her head. “No, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This wasn’t the plan. This was definitely not the plan.”
“What?” I asked again, a knot forming in my stomach.
“Look at the picture.” Maisy snapped a fingernail against the screen. “What do you see?”
I pulled the phone closer to my face. “Meghan and Mia floating on a unicorn float and Madeline floating on a doughnut float with Madison.”
“Who else do you see?” Maisy practically shrieked.
I took a closer look. “Oh, there’s Chloe Bradford-Fuller sitting on the diving board.”
Maisy shook her head. “This can’t be happening.”
She scrolled to her DMs.
From: @madisonave
To: @maisywintersiscoming
Where have you been???? I haven’t heard from you in days. I found our new girl!!
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
WRITING IS A SOLITARY ENDEAVOR, BUT I’VE NEVER FELT ALONE on this journey. I’ve had help, encouragement, and guidance along the way from family, friends, and the team it takes to launch a book.
Thank you to Lauren Galit of the LKG Agency, whose keen insight always elevates my writing. Five minutes into our first conversation, I knew I had found my dream agent. Your business savvy, counsel, and friendship have been with me every step of the way. I am also grateful for all of Caitlen Rubino-Bradway’s help behind the scenes.
Many thanks to Running Press Kids editor Allison Cohen. Your enthusiasm for my story, constant support, and sharp insight made me confident The Popularity Pact had found the perfect home. When I received the most detail-oriented email I have ever seen from Senior Project Editor Amber Morris, it only reiterated to me that my books were in good hands. A special shout-out to Christina Palaia for your top-notch copyediting skills. Thank you to the rest of the publishing team for all of your hard work—Marissa Raybuck, Valerie Howlett, Hannah Jones, Hannah Koerner, and Janelle DeLuise.
Thank you to Lisa K. Weber for your beautiful cover art and chapter illustrations that brought Maisy and Bea to life. I am immensely grateful to Kathleen Carter of Kathleen Carter Communications for all of your hard work getting my books in the hands of more readers in such fun and creative ways.
I am profoundly grateful for my writing partner and dear friend Lea Geller for always telling me the hard stuff—whether it’s about writing or life or just to grow out my bangs. Everyone needs a friend like you.
In this world of carefully curated social media feeds, it’s important to have people to share in life’s raw and not-so-perfect moments. A shout-out to my tribe: Elba Burrowes, Michelle Dawson, Lia Gravier, Julie Latham, Stephanie Lia, Crystal Parham, Mandy Stupart, Vicki Tatarian.
The writing community is filled with some amazing people who are generous with their time, advice, and support. Thank you to Nancee Adams, Cindy Beer-Fouhy, Pari Berk, Kathy Curto, Camille Di Maio, Veera Hiranandani, Kwana M. Jackson, Barbara Solomon Josselsohn, Susan Kleinman, Falguni Kothari, Suzanne Leopold of Suzy Approved Book Tours, Steven Lewis, Edward McCann, Cari Pattison, Melissa Roske, and Susie Orman Schnall.
The Writing Institute at Sarah Lawrence College is where I found my writing voice and later my teaching voice. Thank you to Patricia Dunn for giving me the opportunity to combine my two passions into the perfect job. Thank you again to Patricia and also to Jimin Han for starting out as my mentors and becoming friends. I am appreciative of Marcia Bradley, Sweet Orefice, and Lucille Walker for keeping everything running smoothly at the place that has become a writing sanctuary and community for so many writers, myself included. Thank you to Annabel Monaghan and Ines Rodrigues for being wonderful colleagues and friends. I am grateful for all of my students, who inspire me with their drive and dedication. The biggest gift The Writing Institute gave me is my writing group, Ahmed Asif, Marlena Baraf, Jacqueline Goldstein, Nancy Flanagan, Rebecca Marks, Nan Mutnick, Jessica Rao, and Ines Rodrigues.
Thank you to my parents, Liz and John, who raised me to think outside the box, a necessity for a writer. Your constant love and support have carried me over many hurdles through the years. Thank you to my mother-in-law, Betsy, for always showing up for me. Many thanks to my sisters and brothers, both blood and through marriage, for all of your love and encouragement over the years. To my nieces, nephews, and godsons, thank you for inspiring me to be creative, for always asking about my books, and for reminding me what it’s like to be a kid.
To Doug and Molly, thank you for always reminding me not to take things too seriously and for all the times you got me to look up from my laptop and enjoy the world around me. Thank you for walking me through some
of the most challenging seasons and for cheering me on during the good ones. I know I can tackle anything life throws at me with you both by my side.
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