Best Friend Next Door (20 page)

But then they declared it was time to GO TO THE HOSPITAL! and it became a hurricane. Uncle Peter burst in the door and grabbed the suitcase and my dad helped Margo into the car. Thirty seconds later, my parents peeled down the driveway. That was definitely fast.

Then time got really slow again. Uncle Peter and I sat at the kitchen table, eating salted almonds and watching the clock. Our conversation went something like this:

Uncle Peter: Are you okay?

Me: Yeah, are you?

Uncle Peter: Fine. Do you think they’re at the hospital yet?

Me: Maybe. Probably not.

Uncle Peter: You sure you’re okay?

Me: I guess so. Do you think they’re at the hospital now?

Uncle Peter: Maybe. Probably. Want more almonds?

But then Emme called. I was SO relieved when Uncle Peter said it was her. I feel terrible about Deepwoods. I can’t believe I took off without even telling her or Sophie. I was sure Emme didn’t want to be friends after that. Margo kept saying that forgiveness is part of friendship, but I had no idea how I’d ask Emme to forgive me.

It was easier to make up with Sophie. When she got back to my house after camp, Margo let her in the front door and she and I were just like “Hey, what’s up?” I said I was sorry and Sophie said it was okay. She didn’t say anything about Emme and I didn’t ask. We ordered pizza and watched a movie, and my dad and I drove her to the airport early the next morning.

But it felt different with Emme. Maybe because we’d actually yelled at each other. Also, I think it’s because Emme and I have gotten so close this year, and Sophie and I have grown apart. I’ve been thinking a lot about friendship these past few days. I’ve been thinking how there are different kinds of friendship, and how friendships can even change over time. Like, Sophie will always be a certain kind of friend because I’ve known her my whole life. But Emme is my in-every-way best friend, the person I want to see every single day and tell everything to.

When Uncle Peter handed me the phone, Emme told me that Butterball was sick. That’s when things got fast again. I ran over and stayed with Emme until Julia arrived. Then I sprinted back to my house for my coat and sneakers and to tell Uncle Peter where I was going. Julia and Emme put Butterball in the backseat. Now we’re driving to the vet. Butterball is in his case, between Emme and me. He’s lying completely still with his eyes closed. I’ve never seen a sick cat before, but I have to say he doesn’t look good. Not that I’m going to tell Emme. Not that I have to.

“He doesn’t look good,” Emme says to her mom. “Do you think he’s going to make it?”

“Dr. Konning is the best vet around,” Julia says. “If anyone can help Butterball, she can.”

We pull into the parking lot of the brick building. As soon as Emme slides out, Julia gets the cat case from the back and we all hurry into the vet’s office.

“I’m Julia Hoffman,” Emme’s mom says to the woman sitting at the front desk. “I called a few minutes ago about our cat, Butterball. It’s an emergency.”

“Oh, yes,” the receptionist says, picking up her phone. “Dr. Morris is ready for you. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Dr.
Morris
?” Emme asks her mom. Her voice sounds high and tight.

Julia shrugs. “They just said to come in immediately. They didn’t say anything about—”

“Dr. Konning isn’t in today,” the receptionist says. “Dr. Morris is her partner.”

Emme pulls on her mom’s sleeve. “But you said—”

A tall man in a lab coat opens the door to an examination room. He smiles and holds out his hand to Emme’s mom. He has balding orange hair and extremely large front teeth.

As soon as we get inside the brightly lit room, he scoops Butterball into his arms and says, “What have we got here? Not feeling so good?”

He starts by listening to Butterball’s pulse and taking his blood pressure. Dr. Morris is working quickly, but he doesn’t look panicked.

“His blood pressure is low,” he tells us, “but that doesn’t surprise me.”

Emme whimpers and covers her eyes.

“We’re going to run blood work,” Dr. Morris says. “We’ll have the preliminary results in an hour.”

As the vet goes to the counter for a needle, Emme moans, “I don’t feel so good.”

Julia whips her head around. “What is it, Em?”

“I just …” Emme looks pale as she sinks back in her chair. “I don’t want to see him get a shot.”

“Want to go out to the waiting room with me?” I ask.

Emme nods and I help her up. Her hand feels cold.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Julia says. “I know you’ve got a lot on your mind, too. I texted your dad and told him to keep us posted.”

I try to smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. I’d honestly like to imagine that Margo is at work and my dad is at work and today is a regular day.

“I’ll take good care of your cat,” Dr. Morris reassures Emme as we walk out of the room.

“Thanks,” she says weakly.

Emme and I first stop by the water cooler at the end of the hallway. I had no idea my mouth was so dry. I’m feeling better after downing two cups of water, and Emme looks slightly steadier, too.

But then we walk into the waiting room and there, sitting on the couch, is Alexa Morris playing on an iPad. She’s all by herself, no parent or pet in sight.

Great. Just great.
Alexa was one of the girls in Ms. Linhart’s class who was mean to Emme. Gina was the worst, but Alexa wasn’t much better. Who knows? Maybe she was even the one who wrote
LOSER
on Emme’s collage.

I glance at Emme. I expect her to drop her water cup or turn away, but she stares right at Alexa and says, “Why’re you here?”

Alexa is so surprised that her mouth hangs open. She twists a rubber band on her wrist and says, “Uh, my dad is the vet. Dr. Morris.”

Duh. Of course. Dr.
Morris
. Alexa
Morris
. Red hair. Big teeth.

“My cat is really sick,” Emme says, sitting on a chair across from Alexa. “Your dad is in there with him.”

“That’s good,” Alexa says. “He’s really good.”

I sit next to Emme. None of us say anything. I wonder what Emme is thinking. She doesn’t seem shy like she used to whenever Alexa and her crew sat near us in the cafeteria.

“You were awful last fall,” Emme suddenly says to Alexa. “You made moving here really hard for me.”

I don’t know who is more shocked, me or Alexa. I’m staring at Emme, completely in awe. Alexa is staring at the ground like she’s going to cry.

“It’s not like I want you to say sorry,” Emme says. “I’m just saying you should think about how you treat people. And people’s stuff, too. I liked that collage. I was making it with my cousin.”

Alexa’s eyes are bloodshot and she’s wiping at her nose. She reaches for a tissue, but then shreds it in her hands. “I’m not friends with Gina anymore if that’s what you’re wondering,” she whispers. “Neither is Haley.”

Emme nods. I stare at the clock on the wall. Time is slowing down again.

“I hope your cat is okay,” Alexa says.

“Me too,” Emme says.

“He will be,” I say, squeezing Emme’s hand. “I know he will be.”

I’m not usually such an optimist, but I’m going to act like one until Emme’s ready to be one again.

It turns out Butterball has diabetes. Emme thought he was losing weight because of the diet cat food and his new exercise routine, but he was actually getting sick all along. Dr. Morris told us that he had something called ketoacidosis, which is a medical way of saying his body was starting to shut down. Luckily we got him to the vet quickly, and Dr. Morris thinks he’s going to pull through.

The bad news is that he’ll have to stay at the vet’s office for the next few days, receiving medicine through a tube they put in his paw. They have rooms in the back. They keep the dogs in a separate room so the other animals aren’t traumatized by barking. When we went to say good-bye, Butterball was in a cage right next to a cat who’d had surgery, and above an iguana with a broken arm. Butterball had tape around his paw where the tube was going in, but he didn’t seem to mind. He nuzzled his nose into my hand, and Emme thought she heard him purring.

The good news is that diabetes is treatable. I told Emme how Margo’s dad, my Pop-Pop, has diabetes. He just has to be careful about what he eats, and give himself insulin injections every day. When Emme heard that, she practically passed out, but Julia assured her that she wouldn’t be the one giving Butterball his shots.

I’m sleeping over at Emme’s house tonight. Uncle Peter said it’s okay. The crazy thing is, Margo hasn’t had the baby yet even though she’s been at the hospital for nine hours. Julia talked to my dad and he said everything is fine, that some babies take longer to come out than others. Even though they’re all reassuring me that it’s okay, I’m so worried about Margo. She just officially became my mom. I don’t want anything to happen to her.

Claire makes us stir-fry for dinner and we watch some shows. Around nine thirty, I roll out a sleeping bag on Emme’s floor and Emme climbs into her bed.

This feels like it’s been the longest day of my entire life.

As I’m adjusting my pillow, I think about how many times I slept in this room back when Sophie used to live here. That makes me think about what happened at Deepwoods. I’m so glad Emme and I made up.

Emme turns out the light. I’m just starting to fall asleep when she says, “Are you excited about the baby coming?”

When she says that, my heart flutters nervously. I’m about to say,
Sure, whatever,
but then I decide to tell her the truth. There’s something about being in the dark that makes it feel okay to open up.

“Ever since I heard that my parents were having a baby,” I say, “I’ve been dreading it. And now it’s finally happening.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me about it for so long?”

“I guess so.” I pause for a second. “I actually found out that Margo was pregnant, like, five minutes before you moved in. I was on the side porch to get away from them when you guys pulled up.”

“That explains a lot,” Emme says.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Want to hear the funny thing? I would love a little brother. Sometimes being an only child, it feels like my moms are watching me all the time. Like, I wish they were distracted with another kid.”

“You can have him,” I mutter.

When Emme doesn’t say anything, I take a deep breath. “I’m also a little excited. I’m just worried they’ll love him more than they love me. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it’s true. Also, I don’t want to have to deal with dirty diapers and crying and the baby spitting up milk all over the place.”

I can hear Emme rolling over in her bed. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

“When the baby gets to be too much, you come over here. This can be your place to escape. A baby-free zone.”

I nod in the dark. A baby-free zone sounds nice.

“Also,” Emme says, “remember how we agreed to share Butterball last fall, and you said you’d help me take care of him?”

“Yeah.” Thinking about Butterball makes my stomach flip over. I can’t believe he and Margo are
both
in the hospital right now.

“I can help you take care of the baby,” Emme says. “I can be like a bonus big sister to him. We can teach him things and deal with gross spit-up together and when your parents are getting annoying with the baby love, we can tell them to chillax with taking photos every two seconds.”

“Chillax?” I ask.

Emme laughs. “Chill. Relax.”

“Is that something your cousin Leesa says?”

“Nope,” she says. “It’s an Emme original.”

After a few minutes, I hear Emme’s steady breathing. I thought it was going to take forever to fall asleep, but I close my eyes and I’m out in four seconds.

In the morning, Claire knocks on the door. She told us last night that she was going to take a vacation day from work today.

“Do you want baby news or cat news?” she asks, walking to the window and opening the curtain. It’s gray out, but still bright.

Emme sits up in bed and rubs her eyes. “Baby news.”