on a piece of beef
jerky I had brought from home, and I suddenly wished it was something else
because I must have looked like some kind of animal. Much to Mom’s dismay, I
had developed a taste for the stuff, and it had replaced my beloved trail mix.
She told me I looked like a cow when I ate it.
“Hey, Bailey,” I said.
Fletcher shoveled spaghetti into his mouth
and ignored Bailey as usual. For some reason, he had never liked her. She
seemed to bug him more than Ranson did, and she had never done anything to him.
It was confusing, but I was resigned to the fact that there were just some
things I would never understand about Fletcher Whitelock.
“What are you doing here?” Fletcher
mumbled finally. It might have sounded rude, but I had been about to ask the
same thing. After the day I swallowed a crayfish, Bailey not only ignored me,
she actually changed directions when she saw me coming her way as if I had some
kind of contagious disease. Maybe she thought I was going to swallow her too.
Bailey opened the plastic container of her
salad. “I just wanted to catch up with my girl.” She glanced at me from the
corner of her eye. “It’s been a long time, huh?”
Why was she acting as if our separation
happened by accident as opposed to her making things the way they were? “What
do you want, Bailey?”
She stabbed her fork into a tomato that
looked like it had seen better days. As a matter of fact, all the veggies in
her salad looked to be on their last legs. “I miss you, Arden. I really do. I
know we kind of took separate paths and made new friends, but we’ve been
besties since the second grade. We shouldn’t just cut each other off like that.
It’s not right.”
I couldn’t keep my jaw from dropping.
“Bailey, are you kidding me? We’re not friends anymore because you like to
pretend that I don’t exist. Don’t put that on me.”
Her cheeks reddened. “You’re right, and
I’m sorry. Hey, want to have a sleepover this Friday night at your house? It
would be just like old times.”
I was tempted to decline just to teach her
a lesson, but I hadn’t had a sleepover since the one I’d had with Bailey in the
eighth grade. As usual, I had no plans other than working on a dress. Sometimes
Fletcher was around on the weekends, and other times he was nowhere to be
found. He didn’t even answer his phone most of the time. When I asked him what
he had been doing, he would say he’d spent the whole weekend binge watching
some show on Netflix.
Bailey gave me a timid smile. At least she
was trying, and the least I could do was meet her halfway. She had been a good
friend to me once, and I missed having a girl friend. Aside from that, Mom
would be ecstatic, and pleasing her had been almost impossible those days.
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
I was already picturing us talking about
boys late into the night. Pigging out on snacks and doing each other’s hair and
nails like we used to.
“Great,” Bailey said, closing up her
salad. “Listen, I gotta run. I’ll see you Friday night. I can’t wait.”
Before I could say anything, she was
striding away from the table, no doubt heading back to Lacey. Fletcher watched
her over his shoulder. “Don’t get your hopes up about that one,” he said.
Maybe he was right, but I wrote his
comment off as jealousy. Sometimes I thought he didn’t like Bailey because he
wanted to be my only friend.
Before my much-anticipated sleepover with
Bailey, I had to endure another therapy session with Scarlett. This one seemed
to go on forever, probably because I wanted it to end before it began, but it turned
out to be . . . eventful. Okay, it was downright horrible, and I was pretty
sure Scarlett would never want to see me again. We had a fight because she
spent the whole time acting like I was some kind of stupid pushover.
“You seem to be in a good mood today,” she
remarked as I lay across her comfy couch. I was busy finding more ways to die
in that room, but I
jerky I had brought from home, and I suddenly wished it was something else
because I must have looked like some kind of animal. Much to Mom’s dismay, I
had developed a taste for the stuff, and it had replaced my beloved trail mix.
She told me I looked like a cow when I ate it.
“Hey, Bailey,” I said.
Fletcher shoveled spaghetti into his mouth
and ignored Bailey as usual. For some reason, he had never liked her. She
seemed to bug him more than Ranson did, and she had never done anything to him.
It was confusing, but I was resigned to the fact that there were just some
things I would never understand about Fletcher Whitelock.
“What are you doing here?” Fletcher
mumbled finally. It might have sounded rude, but I had been about to ask the
same thing. After the day I swallowed a crayfish, Bailey not only ignored me,
she actually changed directions when she saw me coming her way as if I had some
kind of contagious disease. Maybe she thought I was going to swallow her too.
Bailey opened the plastic container of her
salad. “I just wanted to catch up with my girl.” She glanced at me from the
corner of her eye. “It’s been a long time, huh?”
Why was she acting as if our separation
happened by accident as opposed to her making things the way they were? “What
do you want, Bailey?”
She stabbed her fork into a tomato that
looked like it had seen better days. As a matter of fact, all the veggies in
her salad looked to be on their last legs. “I miss you, Arden. I really do. I
know we kind of took separate paths and made new friends, but we’ve been
besties since the second grade. We shouldn’t just cut each other off like that.
It’s not right.”
I couldn’t keep my jaw from dropping.
“Bailey, are you kidding me? We’re not friends anymore because you like to
pretend that I don’t exist. Don’t put that on me.”
Her cheeks reddened. “You’re right, and
I’m sorry. Hey, want to have a sleepover this Friday night at your house? It
would be just like old times.”
I was tempted to decline just to teach her
a lesson, but I hadn’t had a sleepover since the one I’d had with Bailey in the
eighth grade. As usual, I had no plans other than working on a dress. Sometimes
Fletcher was around on the weekends, and other times he was nowhere to be
found. He didn’t even answer his phone most of the time. When I asked him what
he had been doing, he would say he’d spent the whole weekend binge watching
some show on Netflix.
Bailey gave me a timid smile. At least she
was trying, and the least I could do was meet her halfway. She had been a good
friend to me once, and I missed having a girl friend. Aside from that, Mom
would be ecstatic, and pleasing her had been almost impossible those days.
“Sure. It’ll be fun.”
I was already picturing us talking about
boys late into the night. Pigging out on snacks and doing each other’s hair and
nails like we used to.
“Great,” Bailey said, closing up her
salad. “Listen, I gotta run. I’ll see you Friday night. I can’t wait.”
Before I could say anything, she was
striding away from the table, no doubt heading back to Lacey. Fletcher watched
her over his shoulder. “Don’t get your hopes up about that one,” he said.
Maybe he was right, but I wrote his
comment off as jealousy. Sometimes I thought he didn’t like Bailey because he
wanted to be my only friend.
Before my much-anticipated sleepover with
Bailey, I had to endure another therapy session with Scarlett. This one seemed
to go on forever, probably because I wanted it to end before it began, but it turned
out to be . . . eventful. Okay, it was downright horrible, and I was pretty
sure Scarlett would never want to see me again. We had a fight because she
spent the whole time acting like I was some kind of stupid pushover.
“You seem to be in a good mood today,” she
remarked as I lay across her comfy couch. I was busy finding more ways to die
in that room, but I
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