bullet. Unfortunately my relief is tinged with some serious guilt. I am not proud of myself.
nine
“Y OU’RE A PIECE OF WORK , R EAGAN,” SAYS J OCELYN ONCE WE’RE IN MY CAR . They’re the first words she’s spoken since the big argument. And I know her silent treatment was aimed at me, since all the other cheerleaders had long since left the locker room by the time Jocelyn emerged from the showers. I expected her to be a shriveled prune.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I put my car into reverse. “But it wasn’t really my fault.”
“Uh-huh.”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me. To be fair, I don’t believe me either. “Honestly, Jocelyn,” I try “All I said was that I couldn’t host the barbecue and suddenly they were all like, ’Let’s make Jocelyn do it,’ and — ”
“And you didn’t stand up for me. You didn’t defend me. I thought you were my friend.”
“Just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean I have to fight your battles, Jocelyn.” Suddenly I’m angry. I mean, she’s not the only one with crud to deal with. Sure, she might be poor. But maybe being poor is better than living with an angry mom and a crazy grandma, not to mention being the new girl. She’s not saying anything now. I think she’s pouting, but I’m getting really mad. “And what about you?” I toss back. “I thought you were my friend, but just how are you doing that anyway? I’m the one who gives you rides everywhere. I’m the one who helped you when you got plastered at Kendra’s party. What kind of friend are you being to me, Jocelyn?”
Now there’s a great long silence and I think she’s crying, but I’m so angry that I don’t really care. I mean, really, why does she get to pick on me for being a lousy friend when she’s really not doing much better? What’s fair about that?
Finally I’m pulling up to her house and she’s opening the door and I think, Fine, just leave without saying anything — I am finished with you!
“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “You’re right. I haven’t been a good friend. I’m sorry!” Then she shuts the door and runs up to her house. Great, now I can’t even stay mad at her.
When I get to my house, I feel like hitting something, and I know all I have to look forward to is cleaning up Nana’s messes before Mom gets home. But to my surprise there are no messes. And Nana looks neat and clean and fully dressed as she sits in her recliner watching the country music channel.
“Hi, Nana,” I say cautiously “What’s going on?”
She looks up and smiles. “Nothing.”
I walk through the kitchen. All is clean and tidy I go to the downstairs bathroom — the same. Even her bedroom is respectable. I come out and stand between her and the TV, which makes her frown. “Did you clean house?” I ask, thinking maybe it’s a miracle. Maybe whatever it is that’s been making her act so strangely the past couple of years has moved on.
“No,” she says with a grin. “My friend was here.”
“Your friend?”
She gets a puzzled look. “That girl … the one I found in the garden.”
“Andrea?”
She points a finger in the air. “Yes! Andrea. She came to see me again today.”
“Oh.” I move out of the way of the TV, go into the kitchen, and start poking around to see what I can fix for dinner. What is Andrea up to anyway? Does she think if she’s nice to Nana, I will suddenly want to be her friend? No one could be that crazy. I finally decide on spaghetti, shoving thoughts of both Andrea and Jocelyn from my mind.
***
The next morning I don’t know what to do. Normally I give Jocelyn a ride to school, but I feel like our friendship is over and I don’t really want to go pick her up and prolong something that needs to end. I consider calling her and making some excuse, but then I come up with an easier way out. I decide to be late to school. When I don’t show up, she’ll have to walk. I know this is mean and she’ll be late for
nine
“Y OU’RE A PIECE OF WORK , R EAGAN,” SAYS J OCELYN ONCE WE’RE IN MY CAR . They’re the first words she’s spoken since the big argument. And I know her silent treatment was aimed at me, since all the other cheerleaders had long since left the locker room by the time Jocelyn emerged from the showers. I expected her to be a shriveled prune.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her as I put my car into reverse. “But it wasn’t really my fault.”
“Uh-huh.”
I can tell she doesn’t believe me. To be fair, I don’t believe me either. “Honestly, Jocelyn,” I try “All I said was that I couldn’t host the barbecue and suddenly they were all like, ’Let’s make Jocelyn do it,’ and — ”
“And you didn’t stand up for me. You didn’t defend me. I thought you were my friend.”
“Just because I’m your friend doesn’t mean I have to fight your battles, Jocelyn.” Suddenly I’m angry. I mean, she’s not the only one with crud to deal with. Sure, she might be poor. But maybe being poor is better than living with an angry mom and a crazy grandma, not to mention being the new girl. She’s not saying anything now. I think she’s pouting, but I’m getting really mad. “And what about you?” I toss back. “I thought you were my friend, but just how are you doing that anyway? I’m the one who gives you rides everywhere. I’m the one who helped you when you got plastered at Kendra’s party. What kind of friend are you being to me, Jocelyn?”
Now there’s a great long silence and I think she’s crying, but I’m so angry that I don’t really care. I mean, really, why does she get to pick on me for being a lousy friend when she’s really not doing much better? What’s fair about that?
Finally I’m pulling up to her house and she’s opening the door and I think, Fine, just leave without saying anything — I am finished with you!
“I’m sorry,” she mutters. “You’re right. I haven’t been a good friend. I’m sorry!” Then she shuts the door and runs up to her house. Great, now I can’t even stay mad at her.
When I get to my house, I feel like hitting something, and I know all I have to look forward to is cleaning up Nana’s messes before Mom gets home. But to my surprise there are no messes. And Nana looks neat and clean and fully dressed as she sits in her recliner watching the country music channel.
“Hi, Nana,” I say cautiously “What’s going on?”
She looks up and smiles. “Nothing.”
I walk through the kitchen. All is clean and tidy I go to the downstairs bathroom — the same. Even her bedroom is respectable. I come out and stand between her and the TV, which makes her frown. “Did you clean house?” I ask, thinking maybe it’s a miracle. Maybe whatever it is that’s been making her act so strangely the past couple of years has moved on.
“No,” she says with a grin. “My friend was here.”
“Your friend?”
She gets a puzzled look. “That girl … the one I found in the garden.”
“Andrea?”
She points a finger in the air. “Yes! Andrea. She came to see me again today.”
“Oh.” I move out of the way of the TV, go into the kitchen, and start poking around to see what I can fix for dinner. What is Andrea up to anyway? Does she think if she’s nice to Nana, I will suddenly want to be her friend? No one could be that crazy. I finally decide on spaghetti, shoving thoughts of both Andrea and Jocelyn from my mind.
***
The next morning I don’t know what to do. Normally I give Jocelyn a ride to school, but I feel like our friendship is over and I don’t really want to go pick her up and prolong something that needs to end. I consider calling her and making some excuse, but then I come up with an easier way out. I decide to be late to school. When I don’t show up, she’ll have to walk. I know this is mean and she’ll be late for
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