BFF Breakup (13 page)

“So are you going to tell me what that was all about or what?” Brooke said.

I didn't want to fight. That's why my parents were splitting up. But I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't even want to look at her. Couldn't she for once be sympathetic to what I was going through? Didn't I get a free pass to be selfish for one week?

“I could ask you the same thing, you know,” I said.

“You let Susanna walk all over me and you said nothing,” Brooke said, and it sounded like she might cry. I still didn't look at her. “And then you insult my mom? What was that about, Madeline?”

“You insulted my brother,” I said, because she had. She totally had.

“That's not the same thing and you know it.”

I turned to her and said, “What's your problem? You're totally rude to Susanna, like, all the time. She's my
friend
.”

“I'm your friend. Your best friend. Or did you forget?”

“Maybe sometimes it's easy to forget since you don't say two words to me half the time,” I said.

“Oh, please! What are you even talking about?”

I looked at her in her oversized T-shirt and jeans, like she wanted to announce she wasn't trying. She didn't realize now that we were in junior high, stuff mattered. You couldn't walk around school in Saturday afternoon clothes and expect to be taken seriously.

“You don't get me anymore,” I told her.

Brooke shifted her stance and said, “Maybe I don't want to get you, if you act like this.” She shook her head. “I can't even believe this.”

Her mom finally arrived and we rode home in silence. I stared out the backseat window wondering why Brooke had to make everything so hard.

Normally whoever picks us up drives to their own house and Brooke or I just walk home through the creek (as long as it's not raining). It's actually faster than driving. But suddenly I didn't want to have to walk through the creek, like I wasn't good enough to be dropped off at my own house. It was stupid to have to stomp through the mud and dirt and snakes (hello!) just to get home.

As we got close to our streets I asked her mom if she could take me to my house directly.

“Well, sure, sweetie,” she said, looking at me in her rearview mirror. She glanced at Brooke, who kept her own gaze out the window.

No one was home, which I was glad of. I grabbed a snack from the kitchen—some Teddy Grahams and a Coke—and went up to my room. I started dialing Susanna's number to see if she could come over, but then remembered her doctor's appointment. I thought about how great she was on Sunday night when all the heinousness with my parents went down. The true test
of a friendship is how they handle things when it all gets rough. Susanna was there for me; Brooke was too busy being sarcastic and better than the rest of us. What a fair-weather friend.

I checked my computer to see if anyone was online, but they weren't, so I gathered up my snack and went into my closet, lights off, door shut. The cavelike sensation made me feel I could either block everything out or focus on it more intently, whichever I chose to do.

I honestly didn't get Brooke and how she'd been acting lately. I didn't mean to
not
stand up for her at lunch, but Susanna was only standing up for me and how Brooke had been acting lately. Maybe the mom comment was a little below the belt, but even Brooke knew how lame that stuff was. She'd told me a thousand times, so it's not like it was some secret.

Later that evening, Susanna called. In fact, she was walking in the door from the doctor's office—she couldn't even wait to get up to her room to call me. That's how good of a friend she was.

“Let's discuss,” she said. “I am so sorry you had to deal with that bull in the caf today. I mean, that's your best friend? Wow! Like, I'd hate to see how she treats her enemies. Oh wait, I already know since I've been on the receiving end of that for weeks now. Oh my gosh.” She
took a breath and said, “I just can't believe it. How
are
you?”

I thought for a moment, then said, “Shocked, but not really. Fed up for sure.”

“Like, so over it,” Susanna said.

“Exactly.” I sighed.

“Look, can I be honest?”

“Of course,” I said. “Please.”

“I just never got the whole . . . Brooke thing. Natalie and Julia and I were talking today and we agreed that we never understood why someone as nice and cool as you would hang out with someone as mean and grumpy as her. It just never made sense.”

“Well,” I began, because I didn't know. Brooke was my best friend; that's just the way things were. (Past tense?)

“We've been friends so long,” I said. “Since, like, third grade.”

“Um, can I be honest?” Susanna asked again.

“Susanna, please. I always want you to be honest. It's the best thing about you.”

“Well, it's just that . . . third grade is a long time ago. I still carried my American Girl doll to school in third grade. Do you see what I'm saying?”

“I guess.”

“My mom isn't friends with people she went to third
grade with. She isn't even friends with the people she went to college with. You know why? Because people grow up. They start to like different things. People can grow apart more easily than you think. I mean, look at our parents.”

Maybe that was true, but I never imagined it happening to me and Brooke. I wasn't ready to believe that it
was
happening. Were we having a fight, or were we no longer friends?

“Call me if you need anything,” Susanna said. “I'm here for you, no matter what.”

In the midst of everything that was happening, that was exactly what I needed to hear.

I
T WAS JUST NOT HAPPENING. NOPE. NU-UH.
Not even.

This was the mantra I repeated in my head when I got home—after we dropped Madeline off, front door service like she was royalty or something. I'm sorry, but just who does she think she is?

When Madeline slammed the car door and ran up to her porch, Mom turned to me and asked, “Want to talk about it?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I said.

That rock that had formed in the pit of my stomach at lunch? Yeah, it was still there, like Dad's Thanksgiving stuffing, just hanging out for the next ten hours or so.

When I got home I went straight to the computer before Mom could. I got online to see if
she
was also. She was. I sat there frozen, looking at Madeline's flashing name.

Was she looking at my flashing name too? Was she thinking about IMing me, apologizing, saying the whole thing was stupid, and why don't I just come over?
Blink, blink
went her screen name. I waited for the little sign that said she was typing, but it never moved. I waited for her to go offline but she didn't. Was she just staring back at me? Waiting for me to make the first move?

“Brooke, honey,” Mom said, snapping me out of my trance. “Are you doing anything there? Because I really need to check my e-mail.”

“Oh,” I said, looking back at the screen one last time, hoping it would come to life. It didn't. “Sure, okay.”

She was going to say something. If not now, if not by IM, then she'd call, or come over. Maybe not until after dinner, but she would. Looking at my mom and knowing what Madeline had said about her . . . I knew she felt horrible. She'd make it right. We'd been friends too long for her not to.

Except she didn't. The entire evening I waited for her to contact me and she never did. With every phone call that wasn't her, every message I got that wasn't her, every time the wind rustled and a branch tapped at the window that wasn't her . . . I got angrier and angrier.

We all had dinner together that night. We didn't always, but I guess most days of the week we did. Since Abbey started high school, she'd been out a lot more, at meetings for one of the new clubs she'd joined or just out with friends who had cars. I wondered what they did when they went out. Her life seemed so perfect. She'd had no problem going from junior high to high school this year.

Dad had baked chicken and made his special mashed cauliflower and steamed spinach. I took the tiniest portion of spinach possible and wondered why we couldn't have cheese on it. Cheese made everything better.

“And then Clarissa, Janey, and Stephanie said they're going to the lake this weekend if it's not too cold. Just for the day. It's okay if I go, right?” Abbey asked, as she shoveled food into her mouth.

“Who's driving?” Dad asked.

“Probably Clarissa. Her Dad lets her borrow his SUV sometimes. She's a very good driver.”

“I'm sure she is,” Dad said, not seeming totally convinced.

I watched my sister with wonder. Just a couple of weeks in high school and she already seemed different. She talked more, went out more, and obviously had more friends. The T-shirt she wore was black with red and white rhinestones curving down the side and onto the back, and it fit her snugly but not too snug. She looked prettier and more grown-up. Even her hair seemed thicker.

“You made new friends that fast?” I asked, picking at my chicken.

“We've been in school for weeks,” Abbey said. “And there are about seven hundred people in my grade. Do the math.”

I looked around our table, the whole family gathered for a meal. Like all the shrinks on talk shows say it is crucial to keeping your kids off drugs. I realized that Madeline would never have that again. Maybe she rarely did anyway. Their family did eat together sometimes, but usually it was pizza in the living room with the TV on. Now that her parents were splitting up they'd never have the chance to do it right. It made me feel bad for her.

I thought about that later, while I was in my room staring out the window at the dark creek that separated our houses. I wondered what she was doing, and if she was IMing me right then. She was probably so lonely and scared for what was happening to her family, and even
though I didn't know what to say to make her feel better I wanted to help her. I looked at the phone by my bed. Maybe it was just a dumb fight and the sooner we got over it the better things would be.

The things she said jumped back into my mind but I forced them out. She hadn't meant what she said about my mom, right? She was just upset at what was happening in her family. She had a right to be frazzled and say crazy things when her family is falling apart. I'm her friend and we stick by each other. So I picked up the phone and dialed.

My heart pounded as the phone rang. What was I going to say? How would we even begin talking about it? What if she—

“Hello?”

“Madeline?”

“Yeah?”

“It's me,” I said.

“Me who?” she asked.

Oh, please. We'd been talking on the phone for years, give me a break. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that she was dealing with really heavy stuff. “It's Brooke. Are you busy?”

After a moment of silence she said, “No, I guess not.” She didn't sound happy to hear from me. Surprised, but not happy.

“So . . . um . . . it's been a crazy couple of weeks, huh?” I said, going for lightness. She harrumphed in response. “Listen, Madeline.”

“
What,
Brooke?”

“Look, why are you being like this? What did I do that was so bad?” My heart pounded in my ears.

“Are you seriously asking me this question?” she said.

“Yes, I am
seriously asking you this question,
” I mimicked. Look, I couldn't help it.

“Fine then,” she said, like she was digging in for a fight. I braced myself. “You have been so unbelievably rude since school started, not to mention you've been
whining
about even starting school for weeks now. It's like, get over it, okay? Grow up and stop acting like such a baby. I am so sick of taking care of you. You're, like, a total burden. For once you need to get your own life and stop crashing mine. Does that answer your question?”

I was too stunned to talk. It was worse than I thought.
She
was worse than I thought. More anger than I ever knew I had bubbled up inside me. “I hate you,” I said before slamming down the phone.

The truth had finally sunk in. It was over. For good.