Friends ForNever (14 page)

“There's no reason to get mad,” said Nic calmly. “I know you meant well, but you gave her the wrong advice.”

“So you've mentioned,” I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. For some reason Nic had been moody all morning.

“Look,” Nic said, “you've said yourself that I give great advice. I've always been able to help my friends with their problems. I practically saved your life our first summer together.”

“You did,” I admitted. It was something I'd always loved her for, but it was getting annoying to be reminded of it constantly. “I probably should've kept my mouth shut. After all, Mary Claire is
your
‘neighbor,' not mine.”

Nicole ignored the neighbor comment. The line inched forward. The camp store was a tiny, one-room building, only big enough for a few people to be inside at one time, and since it was only open during a.m. free time, there was usually a line out the door.

A CAT named Lydia Duncan was behind the counter when Nic and I finally got inside. “Can I have one of those Mead composition notebooks? A yellow one.”

Lydia turned to the shelves behind her, which were lined with bars of soap, bottles of shampoo, razors, toothpaste, and Camp Pine Haven T-shirts, sweatshirts, hats, and stationery. “Here you go. Darcy, right? What's your last name again?”

“Bridges—Middler Cabin Three.” Lydia nodded and made a note in the ledger to deduct the cost from my account. We didn't have any real cash on us at camp—just an account that our parents had set up for us for little expenses.

“Need anything?” I asked Nic.

“No. I just came along because I didn't have anything better to do.”

That comment struck me as slightly strange, but I ignored it. I tried not to stir up trouble by drawing attention to her little sarcastic remarks.

“Mind if we go to the cabin and drop this off?” I asked. “I don't want to have to hold on to it during lunch.” I looked around for Mary Claire, but I didn't see her. I was hoping for an update on the Alyssa situation.

“Whatever,” said Nic casually. We started up the hill toward the cabin. “That notebook is just like the one we outlined ‘The Plan' in, remember? Only that one was red. Red for romance.”

I smiled. “Yeah, I remember.” We'd written
THE PLAN
on one of the blank lines on the front cover.

I'd picked yellow for this one because it was a neutral color for either a boy or a girl. I couldn't wait to write the first entry.
June 30. Mom called me at summer camp this morning to tell me some great news. You are going to be born! We think your birthday will be sometime around March 7. We already love you and you aren't even born yet.

“What should I write on this cover? I'd like to put ‘My Little Sister' or ‘My Little Brother,' but I don't know which. I guess I'll put ‘Our New Baby.'”

Nic didn't say anything for a while. Then she asked softly, “You really think this is a good idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“You're going to write down everything about your mom's pregnancy, right? Darcy, don't take this the wrong way, but . . . what if something happens?”

I stopped walking and stared at her. “How can you even say that? Take that back right now!”

“Now see—you're getting all upset. I just don't want to see you getting so excited and then if something did go wrong . . .”

“Shut up! Shut up right now!” I screamed at her. I felt like hitting her with my notebook, covering her mouth with my hand, anything to keep her from even suggesting something so horrible.

Nicole sighed. “You are just so emotional about this.”

“Of course I'm emotional! Don't you dare ever . . . EVER say anything like that again! I'm really superstitious about stuff like that!” Maybe it was the Italian in me. But I wasn't the only one. At breakfast this morning, when the talk turned to baby showers, Sarah had mentioned that some Jewish people didn't like to have them or to even set up the nursery before the baby was born because they thought it might be bad luck. I felt like Nicole had cursed my mom by even
thinking
those thoughts, much less saying them out loud.

Nic didn't say anything else. My heart was pounding from yelling at her. When we got to the cabin, I put my new notebook on the shelf by my bed. I had wanted to write the first entry right away, but now I didn't really feel like it. I figured I'd wait till rest hour to do it.

Thanks for totally wrecking my mood
, I felt like saying. But I didn't. I would try to keep my mouth shut till her moodiness passed.

I just hoped I wouldn't have to wait too long.

I had to admit that the highlight of all my days now came right after lunch when we got our mail. Nic and I checked our cubbies on the way out of the dining hall. Today I had an e-mail from Mom and Paul, a postcard from Daddy, and a letter from Blake.

The postcard from Daddy was a huge relief. It was from North Carolina's Outer Banks, and he said he'd be home after the holiday weekend. And he added,
About the helmet—I got one because I got tired of picking bugs out of my teeth. JK, but when a cricket hits you in the face when you're going 65 mph, it hurts!

Next I read Blake's letter. He wrote me about the hike he'd been on and how many times he'd done the zip line, and finally in the last sentence he said,
I told Mom UR dying to have the new baby share UR room. Ha ha!
He's such a little goof.

Then I read Mom and Paul's e-mail, saving the best for last. Mom said she wasn't having any morning sickness, but she did eat a bowl of chocolate ice cream with crushed potato chips sprinkled on top, and she said the salty/chocolate combo was delicious. She also said Paul was burning a CD of all his favorite music so he could start playing it at her belly. And she'd scheduled her first doctor's appointment for next week.

“You're smiling,” said Nic. “It must be more good news.”

“No. It's just a funny story about something the dogs did,” I said, folding up the piece of paper. It had become really clear in the past few days that Nicole was already bored with all my talk about the baby. So I figured the less I brought it up, the better.

“Oh, I thought maybe your family had won the lottery,” she said sarcastically. “Something wonderful like that.”

I had no idea how to answer that, so I decided to let it go. We walked along in silence. “You want to read the letter I got from my father today?” asked Nic.

“Only if you want me to,” I said, feeling a little nervous. If Nic asked to read Mom's e-mail, she'd confront me about lying to her. Our first summer together, I was always asking her to read my parents' letters and e-mails to help me analyze all the things they were saying. Now we rarely did that.

“Go ahead. You'll see how great my life is.” She pushed the letter toward me, so I took it and skimmed through it.

Please try to be pleasant for this visit. You seem to enjoy causing conflict with Elizabeth. We will try to have some activities planned for you to do, but we can't spend all our time entertaining you. And no, I can't take time off work while you're here; it's just a matter of bad timing as I'm in the middle of a big project. So come with some books to read and a good attitude. We'd like to enjoy our time with you instead of being in a constant battle.

“Remember how you told me I should try to spend more time with my dad on this visit? Take walks with him and go out to breakfast? Well, I wrote him and asked if we could take a trip together—maybe go to the beach or something. There's my answer.”

“Yikes. I'm really sorry. Maybe he was just in a bad mood when he wrote this. You know—all stressed out from work or something,” I suggested, handing the letter back to her.

Nic's dad was really serious and spent all his time at work. I was secretly glad that he and Mom had never hit it off. I couldn't imagine having him for a father.

“No, that's how he always talks,” Nic assured me.

She seemed almost glad about it. I knew her home life wasn't the happiest and that she especially hated going to visit her dad, but what I couldn't figure out was why she liked to point out to me how bad her life was and how great mine was. I knew exactly what her dad meant about how she seemed to enjoy causing conflict. I knew how she could be that way sometimes.

“Hey, what if you asked your dad if I could come home from camp with you? Maybe just for a few days.” The minute I made the offer, I wished I could take it back. Ordinarily, I'd jump at the chance for Nic and me to be together as much as possible over the summer, but she'd been so moody lately. Plus it would mean I'd have to wait that much longer to see Mom after camp ended.

“You're just saying that because you feel sorry for me. I know you don't really want to visit me at Dad and Elizabeth's.”

“That's not true! We could have a lot of fun. It would make your visit with them go by faster. You could at least ask,” I said. I tried to act like I really wanted to go home with her. I just felt like I had to do something to cheer her up.

Nic shook her head. “I don't need to ask. I did already. Remember that time you asked if I could come home with you after camp? It gave me the idea, and I wrote my dad way back then and asked him. The answer was no.” She looked so depressed it made me feel guilty that I hadn't really wanted to come home with her.

“Well, we'll just have to IM the whole time you're there.”

Nicole walked along without looking at me. “So—you got a postcard from your dad, too. How is his road trip going?”

“It sounds like he's having a good time. He did get a helmet, by the way. I am so glad you thought of that. That was a really great idea you had. I would've been a wreck all week if you hadn't talked me through that crisis,” I said.

Nic made a little laughing sound in her throat. “Oh, you don't need me anymore. Your life is perfect.”

“How can you say that? I'll always need you. Always! And my life is so
not
perfect. Yeah, we're really happy about the baby and everything, but it's still scary. I mean, Mom's forty-one. She's old to be having a baby. And Paul is forty-seven. Do you realize they'll be in their sixties when the kid graduates from high school?”

I couldn't believe what I was saying. I felt like I was having to look for problems so Nicole would feel better about her own life. And why should I cheer her up by hiding my own happiness?

“Look, you don't have to say those things,” said Nic, practically reading my mind. “I can see how happy you are. I think it's great that your mom found someone and stopped chatting with all those sleazy guys on the Internet. At least I'm assuming she doesn't still chat with
Sirluvalot
.” Nic glanced at me and snickered. “Remember that picture of him in the Speedo? How gross was that? You think your mom saved it somewhere on her computer?”

I felt suddenly nauseated, like my lunch was going to come up. “Why are you bringing that up now? That was two years ago. Of course she doesn't still chat with any of those guys. All that stopped when she started dating Paul.”

One time when I'd snooped around on the computer, I'd found a folder full of pictures of Mom's online “friends.”
Sirluvalot
in a Speedo, lying on a lawn chair. Sickening. Nicole knew how much that bothered me.

“I think it's kind of funny that your mom found your new stepdad on the Internet.”

“You swore you'd never tell anyone that,” I reminded her, my face feeling hot.

“Don't worry. I never have. I've never told anyone about that or about your dad's drinking problem.”

I wanted to grab her and scream in her face,
Are you trying to pick a fight?
But I reminded myself that she was upset about the letter she'd gotten. Maybe bringing up my old family problems would make her feel better about hers.

I took a deep breath. “It's been under control for over a year now. I told you that.”

“Well, you mentioned you were worried about him drinking and riding his motorcycle.”

I'd never said
drinking
. I always just called it his
problem
. Hearing Nicole say those words out loud—your dad's drinking problem—in broad daylight with other people around made me feel like I was walking through camp completely naked.

Natasha and Ashlin walked past us, laughing about something. “You know I don't like to talk about this with other people around,” I reminded Nic.

“Don't worry. They can't hear us. Anyway, I'm happy for you. I'm glad everything in your life is going so well,” said Nicole.

“Thanks,” I said hoarsely. “And I hope you have a great time at your dad's.”

I said it to get back at her for bringing up my family's dark secrets, but she didn't seem to notice. We were at the cabin now and it was time for rest hour, which was a good thing. I didn't want to continue this conversation. My face was still on fire. I knew no one had overheard us, but I couldn't get over hearing her say those things out loud.