Best Friends Through Eternity

by Sylvia McNicoll

  “She said it was too early for any of that. As long as I was a good girl, we would just go to India for a visit. Didn’t matter what my grandfather and Dad cooked up.”

  “Well, that’s great news.”

  “I’m not a good girl. At least, not the way she thinks.” Jasmine sighs and shakes her head. “Well, okay, let’s see how Cameron does with my family at the sagai.” She stoops down and picks up some snow to form into a snowball. “I can decide how to tell them about him after.” She pitches the snowball high in the air and hits a pole. “Thanks for everything.”

  “No problem.” I throw a snowball, too, but it misses and lands on the ground. Ahead I see Max and Vanessa talking together. Of all people. As we walk closer, I can hear their conversation.

  “You should try a nicotine patch, worked for my father,” he tells her.

  She scowls.

  He runs up to me then. “Can I carry your backpack?”

  I shake my head. “You can knock it off, is what you can do.”

  He leans over and kisses my cheek. “We’re going out together,” he tells Jasmine. “Did she tell you that?”

  “Not yet,” I answer, then turn to Jazz. “It’s true, I’m afraid.”

  Her eyes look like they’ve jumped into her eyebrows.

  I grin at her reaction.

  “Great! Good.” She recovers almost instantly and pats my arm.

  Of the three walks to school, this one has definitely turned out the best.

  Till Vanessa walks toward us and shoves Jasmine backward. “You better stay away from Cameron.”

  “Hey, hey,” Max calls out and quickly steps between them. Both Vanessa and Jasmine tower over him. He looks a little silly, like a mouse between two warring giraffes.

  Jasmine steps around Max and comes back for more. “I would, really, Vanessa. To help you out, I mean. Only it’s Cameron who can’t stay away from me.” Jazz doesn’t wait for Vanessa’s mouth to close again. Instead, she barrels past her, throwing her to one side this time. Max and I follow.

  “When I finish with you, Brownie,” Vanessa calls after her, “he’ll find it pretty easy. Trust me.”

  I wince, wondering what she has in mind. Breaking Jazz’s nose or slashing her face.

  “This is too much,” Max says as we continue into the school. “We both heard her threaten you, Jasmine. We need to report her.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. Something has changed about Max. I watch him as he holds the door open for us. He seems to have more confidence, to be more courageous somehow. I shake my head. “Did you have to goad her quite so much, Jazz? You know she’ll have her whole army after you now.”

  “Oh, she would have anyway, even if I had stayed quiet.” She lowers her voice as we walk to our lockers. “I’m not dropping Cameron because of her threats. She’s going to get that through her head sooner or later.”

  “Yeah, well, it might not be soon enough.” I lower my voice, too. “What do you think, Jazz? If we tell Mrs. Norr, Vanessa will get suspended.”

  “And that will leave the rest of the volleyball team.”

  “Maybe without their leader, they won’t be so keen,” Max suggests.

  He’s right. How can we just do nothing? But then another thought occurs to me. “If Jasmine has a threat made against her, and Mrs. Norr knows, will she call in all the parents?” I ask the question but know the answer.

  “I think so.”

  “Mine, too?” Jazz squeaks. “I can’t have Mom or Dad involved.”

  “Probably,” Max answers. “Who knows?”

  Of course, I know because of the Body Worlds photo of the intertwined cadaver couple, the one with Jazz’s and Cameron’s heads Photoshopped on top. But that event hasn’t really happened, since I backtracked a day again.

  “Promise me you won’t say anything about it to her, then. Both of you. I can’t have my parents know.”

  Max shrugs his shoulders.

  I sigh. “Whatever.” If she told her parents about Cameron, maybe this could turn out differently.

  Cameron joins us then, and we leave Jazz and him alone while we go off to science together.

  The topic of discussion today, of course, is Body Worlds. Mr. Brewster tells us the various other ways cadavers are used to help science. I always thought they used dummies for crash tests, but he tells us real cadavers are needed for seat-belt testing and air-bag impact. “Statistics show that every body donated saves a hundred and forty-seven lives. And that’s just with bodies, not organs.”

  I don’t want my body to be used for safety testing, but I really want my kidneys to save a couple of kids. That will make up for not being able to help Kim. If my heart and lungs work out for someone else, or if my eyes can let someone see, that will be a bonus.

  In English, Shakespeare is really growing on me. Max and I are teamed up to translate a love scene into modern English. His job is to read the passage out loud, and then we both work on interpreting. I write it down. I watch Max’s face, seeing his wide nose and lips differently today. He reads flat, in a matter-of-fact tone that makes Romeo’s overblown love confession funny.

  “Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby,” I say as I paraphrase his lines.

  He laughs and I find myself not minding his square bangs anymore. Spending time with Max is like reading Shakespeare, an acquired taste. I’m going to miss him.

  To cheer myself up, I think about spending time with Kim. Since I will never know who my real parents are, I’m glad to find that I have one real biological relation, my sister. And we can explore all eternity together.

  “Let’s go outside,” I tell Max at first break. “I don’t want to get in the path of the volleyball team.”

  “And give up my hamburger fix?” he protests.

  “I’ve got some Indian food I can share with you. Jazz’s mom gave it to me.” I tuck my arm in his elbow on the way to the locker. After we put on our coats, we head outside. I see them before they spot me, so I steer Max away from the football field.

  “They’re all out there smoking,” Max says. “How long before they get kicked off the team?”

  “We won’t have any team.”

  “Maybe they’ll go into rehab.” Max grins as we walk across the street. We find our way to a park bench a few blocks away from the school.

  There I split up the paratha.

  “I love Indian food more than hamburger and pizza combined,” Max tells me.

  “Good, then you’ll like coming to Beena’s engagement party on Saturday. She makes great pakoras.”

  “What? I don’t know Beena.”

  “She’s Jasmine’s cousin.”

  “Do I need to bring a present?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll ask Jazz later. Isn’t this good? Can you believe Jazz made this?”

  “Wow. She makes bread from scratch?”

  I nod. “She’s being trained to cook Indian food so she’ll make a good wife, just like Beena.”

  “Well, she makes a mean paratha.”

  Then I explain to him exactly why Jazz doesn’t want her parents called in about the bullying. “If they hear about Cameron before Jazz can explain, she thinks they’ll take her to India immediately to find a husband.”

  “What is there to explain? Indian girls aren’t supposed to date at all, are they?”

  “No. But Jazz’s parents came to the West for a reason. They must want more opportunity for their kids. Cameron’s coming to the party, too. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is.”

  “You’re kidding. Paige, this could so backfire.”

  “We have to try something. This way there’s a chance the Aggarwals will get to know him before they find out Jazz is seeing him.”

  “Vanessa would sure tell them if she knew it would cause trouble.” Max pauses a moment as though thinking something over. “You know, if Mrs. Norr found out about those girls smoking on school property, they would be suspended, too.”

  “She’d call in their parents but not Jazz’s. I like that ide
a! How would we prove it?”

  “Come on. If they’re still out there, maybe we can catch them in the act.” Max and I run back to school. It isn’t snowing now, not even a flake, and the volleyball team still stands around at the far edge of the football field, cigarettes in hand.

  “How close do you plan on getting?” I ask Max.

  “Pretty close. No zoom on my cell phone. We better run fast after.”

  I’m fed up with running already. Finally, we’re close enough for Max to hold out his cell and click! And another just to make sure he has a good clear image.

  “What are you doing?” Vanessa yells. “Get that phone off him!” She points and Kierstead, Emma and Morgan run after us.

  “Too bad. I’ve already e-mailed it to myself,” Max calls back.

  We run directly for the front door, up the stairs and into the office. “Could we speak to Mrs. Norr?” I ask the secretary.

  “What is it?” Mrs. Norr calls as she steps out from behind her desk. “Come in,” she adds.

  “Isn’t it against the law for anyone to smoke on school property?” Max asks as we enter her office.

  “You know it is. We told everyone in assembly earlier this month,” she answers.

  We line up side by side in front of her desk. “Well, there are some students who routinely go to the edge of the football field and smoke at break.”

  “Did you want to tell me their names?” She looks at us skeptically.

  We’re tattling, squealing, snitching, all those things that break the unwritten code of honor. But I know what Vanessa is capable of, and if we can just do something to keep her away from Jasmine for this one day, so she can talk about Cameron with her folks, maybe all of destiny can change. This time in a good way.

  SECOND RETAKE:

  Friday Afternoon

  Mrs. Norr squints at the tiny screen as Max holds it up toward her.

  “You don’t have to believe us or even the cell phone,” Max says. “Just call them all in and smell for yourself.”

  Mrs. Norr’s mouth tugs downward. “But I can’t control their smoking altogether. And the smell doesn’t prove they’ve been doing it on school property.”

  I don’t understand her stalling. “You can make out the goalpost in that shot. See that white thing behind Vanessa McDonald’s head?”

  Mrs. Norr nods, steepling her fingers. “I’m wondering why you two are stepping forward to report these girls.”

  “Vanessa was really upset about the black lung we saw at Body Worlds yesterday,” Max says.

  “You can ask Mr. Brewster,” I add. “I know her mother smokes, too.”

  “Yes, her mother might be Vanessa’s biggest problem.” Mrs. Norr taps her fingers together, still delaying.

  “I think if she got in trouble for it, she might just be convinced to quit,” Max says.

  “Well, that’s very noble of you both.” Mrs. Norr opens her fingers again and places her palms down on the desk as though finally ready to push off. Only she hesitates. “Is there something else going on that you want to tell me about?”

  I look at Max and he looks back at me. The bullying. I sigh. I’m sick and tired of suffering the shoves and insults from that stupid volleyball gang. But we promised Jazz we wouldn’t say anything about Vanessa’s threats so I button my lip. “No, Mrs. Norr,” we both answer.

  “Very well. Leave your phone with me for this period, Max. You may go.”

  We dash out. It doesn’t take long for the announcement. “Would the following students report to the office immediately: Vanessa McDonald, Kierstead Compo, Morgan Pellam, Laura Gingham, Gwyn Thompson, Emma Simmons, Zoe O’Connell and Rebecca Bennett.” I feel revenge smirk inside me. That’s what you get for posting photos of naked corpses with my best friend’s and her boyfriend’s heads on them.

  Only they haven’t done that this lifetime through.

  I pass Emma and Zoe in the hall as I head for gym class. They look at each other, then glare at me. Zoe taps her nose as she raises an eyebrow.

  Oh, big threat! As fast as their parents are called and letters are written, they’re going to have to leave the school premises. If they want to meet us at the overpass to beat us up, at the very least they will be seriously inconvenienced. Maybe their parents will ground them. Or maybe they will be leery of getting into any more trouble and risking expulsion.

  In any case, gym class is never quite as relaxed as today. No one slams me into a locker or knocks me with any equipment. We play volleyball without the pros, and I actually get a serve across. No one double blocks or spikes it back. No one squabbles with each other over missing the shots or serves or calling for the ball. My side wins by a few points, but it doesn’t even matter. Everyone seems to have fun, and no one snaps a wet towel at me in the changing room.

  In French class, the drills go quicker, and Madame Potvin gives out e-mail addresses for possible pen pals for us. She also talks about the exchange trip she’s arranging for spring break.

  If only there was some way I could avoid that train Monday afternoon, I would see Paris. I smile, imagining the Eiffel Tower. But the deal was a week to return so that I could stand up for Jazz this time, and I have to keep my side of the bargain. Still, hasn’t so much else changed because I acted on some of my better impulses? If only I hadn’t spent my lifetime behind that shell I’d created. Who knows how much better everything would have gone?

  On the way to the library at the end of the day, I make the mistake of stopping at my locker. Someone has smeared something red and meaty across it. Spaghetti sauce?

  “I’ve got it! No worries,” Max calls as he runs my way. He carries a spray bottle in one hand and a plastic bag and rag in another. “I had way more on my locker. Whoever cooked it likes their meat rare.” He immediately begins wiping the red stuff into the bag.

  “Thanks, Max. I’m so glad I’m not alone in this.”

  He stops mid-wipe, suddenly looking a little green.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I just wiped off an eyeball.”

  “Oh my gawd. What is this really?” I step in closer.

  Max’s neck stretches out and his shoulders lift, like he’s ready to hurl.

  I step back.

  “My guess is roadkill, squirrel probably.” He looks away for a minute, taking a couple of breaths. Then he quickly finishes.

  “You don’t think we should report any of this?” I ask.

  “What more can Mrs. Norr do today? They’re already suspended. Not even supposed to be on school property.”

  I shake my head. Those girls found plastinated body parts gross, so smearing squirrel on our lockers shows real dedication on their part. “Do you want to try to catch up to Jazz and Cameron?” I ask Max. “Warn them? Maybe they should go home early. On the bus, preferably.”

  “Sure.” He gives the locker a couple more swipes as I throw on my coat for the trek to find Jazz and Cameron.

  “Hurry,” I tell Max as I move ahead of him through the hall and out the back of the school. I try to run, lifting my feet high over the duvet of snow spread across the field. It’s exhausting. On the sidewalk it becomes easier, although by this time I’m out of breath. “Down this block, this is the way they always go.” I point and we turn.

  At the end of the street, I think I see them. At least, it’s two people huddled together, walking. “Jasmine! Cameron!”

  They turn and she waves.

  “Hold up a minute!” I call. I sigh as we head closer. Whatever happens, at least there will be four of us together. Then I have a second thought. Last time, both Jazz and I got hit by the train. What if all four of us are killed this pass? “Max, I don’t feel like rushing home right now. If we hang out at the mall awhile, one of my parents could drive us.”

  “Let’s see how Jazz reacts when you tell her about the roadkill,” he answers.

  “What’s Max talking about?” Jazz asks as we draw closer.

  “How was your locker today?”


  “Fine. Vanessa and her gang were sent home, remember?”

  “Still, one of them managed to splatter squirrel on our lockers.”

  “Gross!” Jazz says.

  “That can’t be Vanessa. She faints at the sight of blood,” Cameron says.

  “Doesn’t matter which one of them did it. I think we should stick together. Safety in numbers,” I suggest.

  “I’m not afraid of Vanessa,” Cameron answers.

  “You probably don’t need to be,” I say. “But what about Jazz?”

  “Why don’t we go to the mall with you?” Max asks. “You may want to pick out an engagement present, anyway.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cameron asks as we start walking in that direction. Max and I squeeze in together beside Cameron and Jazz.

  Jazz answers, her face pink. “Paige got you and Max invited to my cousin’s engagement party on Saturday.”

  “Great. I get to see you,” Cameron says.

  Last time through the weekend, I had to cover for them when they went to a movie.

  “Yeah, well, you can’t touch me or act like a boyfriend in any way,” Jazz warns. “Don’t worry about buying a present, though. Indians only give money.”

  “A card, then,” I suggest. “We want Cameron to make a good impression.”

  We cross the parking lot to the mall now. “Plus, I could use something to wear. You can help me buy something that’s … appropriate.”

  Cameron holds open the first door for us, and instantly warm air rushes around us. We stamp our feet on the rubber mat. Max gets the second door. “Let’s grab a hot chocolate first,” Max suggests, and we head for the food court. The mall is pretty empty at this hour. A girl steps forward to try to get us to sample her special Dead Sea salt scrub, but we dart around her.

  “You don’t have to buy anything to wear,” Jazz tells me. “I’ll lend you a sari.”

  “Okay, I’d like that.” Probably the closest I’ll ever get to travel to the East.

  The smell of coffee and vanilla leads us to the doughnut shop. At a table nearby, I notice someone hunched over an empty cup and crumpled napkin. I nudge Max, but Cameron has already spotted her. She doesn’t look scary here all alone. She looks washed-out and sad.