The Kind of Friends We Used to Be

by Frances O'Roark Dowell

  Scurrying to the front door, her fingers crossed that her mom’s car would be at the curb, Marylin tried desperately to come up with a plan. There was no possible way she was going to go to the Holiday Extravaganza with Saunders Peck. First of all, as a middle-school cheerleader, there was only so much she could get away with. Being friends with Kate Faber? Acceptable, if not preferable. Taking Student Government seriously, even if her real role there was to make things better for middle-school cheerleaders? Pushing it. Going on a date with Saunders Peck, a boy who, while academically and politically successful, was not actually that cute and by the time high school rolled around might drop off into the abyss of unpopularity?

  Forget about it.

  Besides, Marylin didn’t think she liked him very much, which had nothing to do with her being a middle-school cheerleader, just her own personal feelings. Shouldn’t her feelings count for something? She didn’t have to say yes just because somebody asked her to do something, did she? She didn’t always have to be nice just because she was a nice person.

  It would have been useful if her mom’s car had been parked out front, but it wasn’t, which meant Marylin was going to have to take a deep breath, go back inside, and tell Saunders kindly, but firmly, that she did not want to go to the Holiday Extravaganza with him.

  Fortunately, at the last second she noticed Benjamin Huddle standing over by the statue of the Brenner P. Dunn Middle School wildcat, the school mascot, his backpack on his back, both straps on his shoulders, his blue jacket zipped all the way up, so that he looked like a little kid.

  “Oh, hi, Benjamin,” Marylin said, a little zing of excitement zipping through her. She didn’t know if she was excited because now she didn’t have to go back inside, or if it had more to do with the fact that standing out in the cold all zipped up, Benjamin Huddle was cuter than she’d ever realized. Marylin wondered if he had a girlfriend. “Are you waiting for your mom?”

  That sounded stupid, Marylin thought, like a question you’d ask a preschooler. But Benjamin didn’t seem to mind. He walked over to Marylin and said, “My dad, actually. My mom teaches at the Arts Center on Monday nights.”

  “What does she teach?” Marylin asked, hoping her questions would make this bloom into an actual conversation.

  “Drawing for kids,” said Benjamin. “Not little kids. Kids our age who are sort of advanced.”

  “I wish I could draw,” Marylin said, setting her back pouch on the sidewalk. “But all I can do are stick people.”

  Benjamin laughed. “Yeah, me too. It’s a huge disappointment to my mom. She wants all my brothers and sisters to be Picassos or something.”

  “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “Four, if you can believe it. I’m the oldest, with the least artistic talent.”

  “But you’re good at other stuff,” Marylin insisted. “I mean, you’re a great Student Government president.”

  “Do you really think so?” Benjamin asked, stepping even closer. “I worry that we’re not getting enough done.”

  “Are you kidding? I can’t believe how much we’ve done in just three meetings,” Marylin said. “I don’t have much experience or anything, but I’ve been pretty amazed at all the stuff we’ve covered so far.”

  Cars began streaming into the school driveway, headlights bouncing against the wildcat. “Oh, there’s my mom,” Marylin said, spotting the silver minivan at the end of the line.

  Benjamin scanned the line of cars. “Yeah, I see my dad, too.” He shifted the weight of his pack, then turned to her. “Uh, Marylin, I was wondering—”

  He was interrupted by Saunders Peck, who jumped up beside him. “What’s taking you so long?” he asked Marylin, sounding irritated. “I’ve been waiting in there for at least three minutes.”

  “Oh, Saunders, hi.” Marylin’s voice sounded fakey to her ears. It sounded like a voice in a TV show filled with bad actors. “Um, about that Extravaganza, what I meant to tell you was—”

  “What?” Saunders asked in an impatient tone of voice. “What did you mean to tell me?”

  “I’m already going with someone else?” Marylin looked at Benjamin, who appeared confused by this turn of events. “Right, Benjamin?”

  A headlight shined in Benjamin’s eyes, and Marylin could see that he suddenly got it. “Yeah, sorry, Saunders. Marylin’s going with me.”

  Saunders gave Marylin a stricken look. “You might have said something inside, you know. I guess this is like a joke to you, right? Like maybe other people don’t have feelings?”

  Marylin and Benjamin watched Saunders stomp off toward the car in front of the pickup line. “Wow,” Benjamin said. “That guy has some anger management problems.”

  “I don’t know, I think he’s just kind of embarrassed,” said Marylin, feeling terrible that she hadn’t handled things better. Okay, so there was no way she was going to have said yes, but she should have found a direct way to tell him no. She should have pretended she was Kate and said something straight off the bat. Now she felt like a really rotten person.

  But at the same time she felt great. She looked at Benjamin, who really was cute, and actually kind of tall. And presidential, Marylin thought. A little goofy, but definitely presidential.

  “So, anyway, my mom or dad will have to drive us and everything,” Benjamin said, sounding apologetic. “Because, well, I don’t have my license.” He paused. “That sounded stupid, didn’t it? You wouldn’t actually expect me to have my license.”

  Marylin laughed. Was it possible that this cute, presidential-looking boy worried as much as she did about saying dumb things? “It didn’t sound stupid. And it’s okay about your parents driving. I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks,” Benjamin said. He turned toward his dad’s car, then turned back again. “By the way, did I ask you, or did you ask me?”

  “I think we kind of asked each other,” said Marylin.

  Benjamin grinned. “Cool.”

  Yeah, Marylin thought, walking over to where her mom was parked. Cool.

  Here was the problem: The Extravaganza was on Saturday night, and Marylin was supposed to stay at her dad’s. Normally it would be okay, under the circumstances, for Marylin to come back home late Saturday afternoon, so that Benjamin’s parents wouldn’t have to drive all the way to her dad’s apartment to pick her up for the party. But on this particular Saturday night, her mom was going on a pre-Christmas visit to Aunt Tish’s house, which was three hours away. Marylin made the case that she should be able to spend the night by herself in her own house, but her parents weren’t buying it.

  “Why don’t you see if you could spend the night at Kate’s house?” her mom had asked, which would have been a good idea, only Kate’s family was going to be out of town that weekend too. “So what about Mazie? Or another one of your cheerleader friends?” her mom had then suggested reasonably. “There’s got be somebody who can help you out.”

  Thinking over her options, Marylin realized she did not want to stay over at Mazie’s house. Mazie would not be supportive. She would have a list of at least twenty-five things that were wrong with Benjamin Huddle, even if he was Student Government president. She would make fun of Marylin before Benjamin picked her up, and she would make fun of Benjamin after he dropped Marylin off.

  This was not how Marylin wanted her first date to be. She loved the idea of spending the night with a friend so that they could go over the date in detail afterward, but it needed to be a nice friend, a supportive friend, a friend who would be excited for Marylin. Marylin imagined the two of them—whoever the friend might be—wrapped up in bathrobes and sipping hot chocolate as they discussed everything that had happened, from the minute that Benjamin knocked on the door to the minute he dropped her off after the Extravaganza was over.

  Mazie was not that kind of friend.

  To be honest, neither was Kate, Marylin had to admit, although Kate would be a hundred times better than Mazie. Kate could appreciate the appeal of Benjamin Huddl
e, unlike Mazie, who only appreciated eighth-grade football players.

  And then it came to her. Ruby Santiago. Marylin had been dying to spend the night at Ruby’s all fall, just waiting for the chance for the two of them to bond. Of course, Ruby was not the sort of person you asked to spend the night. You had to wait for her to ask you. But this was a special occasion, and just the opportunity Marylin had been looking for.

  “Saturday night?” Ruby had asked when Marylin brought up the subject of a sleepover. “I guess that would be okay. I’ll have to ask my mom, though. She doesn’t like it when we invite people without checking with her first.”

  That was Tuesday morning. By Tuesday afternoon, home after cheerleading practice, Marylin was a jumble of nervous excitement waiting for Ruby’s call. Ruby had promised to call before dinner. Marylin tried to do her homework, the phone on the bed beside her, but she couldn’t concentrate. Outside her window, the afternoon darkened into evening, and inside, the smell of meat loaf drifted up the stairs, mixing with Marylin’s excitement and making her feel a little sick. Call, call, call, she ESP’d to Ruby, but the only time the phone rang, it was the library, a computerized voice informing Marylin that her mother had three items overdue.

  By eight, Ruby still hadn’t called, and Marylin wondered if she should call Ruby. But she knew this went against middle-school cheer-leading protocol. The second prettiest cheerleader did not call the prettiest cheerleader—it was always the other way around, no exceptions.

  Marylin waited until midnight before completely giving up hope. In the morning, groggy eyed, she made her way to Ruby’s locker, where Ruby stood with Ashley and Mazie. “I thought you were going to call last night,” she said to Ruby, and immediately realized that this was a mistake. As nice as Ruby was, you still didn’t reprimand her, especially not in front of other people.

  “Was I?” Ruby asked, sounding both innocent and imperial at the same time. “Gosh, Marylin, I guess I forgot. But I did ask my mom about Saturday and she said no. I forgot that it’s the youth group Christmas party that night. My mom never lets me skip church stuff.”

  “Mine either,” Ashley chimed in. “If it has to do with church, I have to be there.”

  Ruby smiled at Ashley serenely. “Your mom sounds a lot like mine.”

  Ashley nodded several times like a happy puppy. Marylin thought she was going to throw up. She definitely wasn’t going to ask Ashley if she could spend the night at her house. But who was she going to ask? For a popular person, she was starting to feel sort of pathetic.

  The idea came to her in language arts, but she rejected it immediately. Even though she and Rhetta were friendly now, chatting in the minutes before their classes started, Rhetta showing Marylin her latest drawings, Marylin offering the occasional story idea, that wasn’t the same as them being friends. Besides, what could spending the night at Rhetta’s house be like? Marylin imagined walls painted black, cats slithering around, a crow perched in an ornate birdcage. Marylin would probably be too scared to fall asleep.

  But the fact was, it was Wednesday afternoon. If she didn’t have something lined up soon, then Benjamin’s parents would have to drive to her dad’s to get her, and they’d have to drive all the way back afterward, or else Marylin’s dad would have to drive her, and Petey would be sitting in the backseat with Marylin and Benjamin, and that was just too unromantic for words.

  Rhetta, she decided with a sigh, was her only hope.

  “Yeah, sure, no problem,” Rhetta replied, not acting like she had to think about it or ask her mom first. For someone who dressed all in black and didn’t seem to have many friends, she sounded like having Marylin spend the night was a run-of-the-mill event. “My mom buys microwave popcorn by the caseload, so we can hang out all night eating popcorn and watching TV. It’ll be cool.”

  Marylin stared at Rhetta, reassessing her. Was it possible that under that gloom-and-doom exterior, Rhetta Mayes was actually a normal twelve-year-old girl who liked popcorn and sleepovers?

  Who knew?

  “So what were you and Miss Ghoul talking about?” Mazie asked after language arts. “She seemed pretty excited over something.”

  “She’s, uh, interested in Student Government stuff,” Marylin stammered. “You know, all that vegetarian stuff. She’s against meat.”

  “It figures,” said Mazie, rolling her eyes in Rhetta’s general direction. “I don’t know why they let freaks like her go to school.”

  “Somebody’s a freak just because they don’t eat meat?” Marylin asked, surprising herself. She’d never talked back to Mazie before. It was sort of great and sort of terrifying at the same time. She decided to keep going, even though she had no idea whether Rhetta ate meat or not. “That’s pretty, I don’t know, narrow-minded, don’t you think?”

  Mazie raised an eyebrow. “Let me know when you’re ready to get off your high horse, Miss Priss. And you might think twice about the way you’re talking to me. If I felt like it, I could make your life pretty miserable.”

  You’re already making my life miserable, Marylin wanted to say. But she didn’t. One of these days, she was going to start telling Mazie what she actually thought 100 percent of the time. Maybe that would be her New Year’s resolution. In the upcoming year, she would be a truth teller. All the time, not just when she forgot to lie in order to get along.

  That gave her two more weeks of being friends with Mazie. Because when Marylin started telling the truth, Mazie wasn’t going to put up with it, not for a second.

  “If you wanted, I could put some makeup on you.”

  Marylin took a few steps back from Rhetta. “Well, um, I don’t know. You and I sort of have different styles.”

  Rhetta laughed. “I won’t try to make you look like me. I’ll just make you look more like you.”

  “Well, okay, I guess.” Marylin looked at the clock on Rhetta’s bedside table. She had forty-five minutes before Benjamin was going to pick her up. If Rhetta’s makeup job was horrible, or even the least bit not cute, she still had time to wash it off. “Just in case you were wondering, I prefer the natural look. My mom doesn’t like me wearing too much makeup. Mostly just lip gloss and maybe a little blush.”

  “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” Rhetta said, rummaging through a box in her closet. You could tell that the Mayeses had just moved in, the way half of Rhetta’s stuff was still packed up in cardboard boxes scattered around her room. “Do you think my dad would let me do all the makeup for the Christmas pageant if I didn’t?”

  Marylin had to admit that it was unlikely that Mr. Mayes—make that Reverend Mayes—would trust Rhetta to put makeup on Mary and the angels if he thought she was going to turn them into witches and vampires and other creatures from the dark side. Still, you’d think he might worry about it just the teeniest bit.

  Though, come to think of it, Reverend Mayes didn’t seem like the worrying type. “You can call me Jack, all the youth at church do,” Reverend Mayes had told Marylin when Rhetta introduced them. “Actually, they call me Pastor Jack, and if you’re more comfortable with that, that’s fine.”

  At the church Marylin went to, they called the minister Father Markham. Marylin wasn’t sure what his first name was, or if he even had one. She couldn’t imagine him ever dressed like Reverend Mayes was, in a pale blue polo shirt, jeans, and running shoes, and she couldn’t even begin to picture him sporting a little goatee on his chin. Marylin thought Reverend Mayes’s goatee was sort of cute. In fact, Reverend Mayes himself was sort of cute. But how did someone as clean-cut as he was end up with a daughter like Rhetta?

  “Does your dad mind, you know, the way you dress and everything?” Marylin asked Rhetta as she applied eye shadow to the crease of Marylin’s right eye. “I mean, it’s not very church-y.”

  “I think it bugs my mom, but not my dad,” Rhetta said, breathing pepperoni pizza breath into Marylin’s face as she dabbed on the eye makeup. “My dad is a pretty contemporary guy. Like, we don’t have a choir at church
, we have a band, you know? And there’s a youth band too, and the bass player has a pierced lip. My dad says clothes don’t matter and tattoos don’t matter. All that matters is what’s inside.”

  Marylin peered at Rhetta in the mirror, thinking that it was absolutely impossible to know someone until you’d been in their house, and even then, you could never know them all the way. Everyone, it seemed to Marylin, had a part of them that stayed a mystery. She couldn’t figure out if she liked that idea or if it was a little scary, like there was a part of you that would always be alone. “So do you mind, like, having to go to church all the time and that stuff?”

  “It’s not so bad.” Rhetta took a step back and examined her work. “It’s part of my job description, right? But that doesn’t mean I have to be all angelic and holy or anything. How boring would that be?”

  Earlier that evening, at the dinner table, it had kind of shocked Marylin when Reverend Mayes led them in prayer over the pizza box at dinner, but what was even more shocking was that Rhetta had bowed her head and not seemed the least bit embarrassed about it.

  While they were eating, Reverend and Mrs. Mayes ("Oh, just call me Miss Charlene, all the kids do") had asked Marylin questions about the middle school, which they told her was twice the size of Rhetta’s last school, and they asked her questions about herself. Mrs. Mayes had gotten all excited when she found out Marylin was a cheerleader.

  “I was a cheerleader!” she’d exclaimed. “I loved it. You know what always bothered me, though? No one ever recognized that cheer-leading is really a sport. You have to be an athlete to be a cheerleader. I think people see that more now, but when I was in high school, everybody took cheerleaders for granted. We were just a lot of pretty faces back then.”

  Marylin could see that Mrs. Mayes had probably been a good cheerleader. There was something naturally bouncy about her, for one thing. Also, she seemed genuinely cheerful. She’d chattered on through dinner about this and that, saying funny and silly things that made Rhetta and her little brother Charlie moan and groan and giggle.