Best Friends Forever by Jennifer Weiner Page B

parents, hand out candy when kids rang the doorbel —but Val and Poltergeist were waiting. I packed pajamas and a toothbrush and went across the street, where Val had taken off her robe and was in her sweatpants popping popcorn, with her face stil painted. I wished for my pastels so I could sketch a quick picture of her, standing at the stove with her green face and her witch hat perched on top of her blond hair.
    “You look like you have food poisoning.”
    She grabbed a wad of paper towels and started wiping her cheeks. “Here. Melt this,”
    she said, tossing me a stick of margarine, which I unwrapped and put in a plastic bowl. I stuck the bowl in the microwave as Valerie dumped popcorn into a pan on the stove and shook it briskly until the first kernels exploded. We ate popcorn and divided up our Hal oween haul, first by size, then by type, then by order in which we’d be eating it. I traded my SweeTarts for M&M’s, and we both agreed that Junior Mints were the worst candy ever. We made it until the part where the meat crawled across the counter, then burst open with mag-gots (“I’m sorry, but that is so cool!” Val chortled while I looked away from the screen with my stomach roiling), and then we fel asleep, bundled in blankets on the floor.
    “Honey?” Mrs. Adler’s cigarette-and-Breck smel was in my nose; her voice was in my ear.
    “Addie? Are you awake?” For a minute I thought I was in the car, on our way home from the ocean. Goodnight to the front!
    Goodnight to the back!
    I opened my eyes. It was stil morning, but very early, the sky gray, just touched with pearly light. Through the window, I saw that there was a police car in front of my house. Its flashing light painted our wal s red and blue, red and blue.
    “Addie,” said Mrs. Adler. “Honey. Wake up. There’s been an accident.”
    I sat up. Beside me, Val rol ed onto her side, her blond hair bright against the DiMeos’
    dark old carpet. “What happened?”
    “Your brother was in a car accident. Your dad just cal ed to let me know.”
    I got to my feet and walked to the window. The front door to my house was open, and I could see my mother in her bathrobe, standing in the doorway with both hands pressed to her chest. A police officer in a blue uniform shirt and black pants was talking to her. As I watched, he took her by the arm and led her out of the house to the cruiser.
    “I should go.” I started looking around for my shoes.
    Mrs. Adler shook her head. “Your dad said for you to stay here. They’l cal as soon as they know anything.”
    Outside, the cruiser backed down the driveway. My father ran out of the house, his pajama top so white it seemed to glow under the gray sky. He climbed into our station wagon and fol owed the cruiser down the street.
    Mrs. Adler put her hand on my shoulder.
    “Try not to worry,” she said. “I’m sure everything wil be okay.”
    I climbed on the couch and sat with my face turned toward the window and my eyes trained on my front door until the sun came up and the paperboy made his way down our street, his bicycle wobbling in front of each house as he slowed to throw a paper toward the door.
    “Hey,” said Val. I turned, and she was blinking up at me from the floor. “What’s going on?
    Did someone TP the house?”
    My tongue felt thick. “Jon was in an accident. My parents went to the hospital.”
    “Oh my God!” Val sprang to her feet and came to sit on the couch beside me. “What happened?”
    I shrugged. I couldn’t look at her. I had to look at the house. Maybe it was a test, and if I kept watching, if I didn’t blink, if I didn’t miss anything, then maybe this would be al right. Val sat next to me, and I stared at our house, fixing it in my head, turning it into a stil life. My father had painted the exterior a creamy brown that August. I’d helped him, hoisting cans of paint, bringing him glasses of lemonade, holding the ladder when he climbed down.
    I watched the house, the