My Forever Friends by Julie Bowe Page B

the quilt and write a friendship word with fabric markers on each of them. After that, I’ll attach your handprints to the tree.”
    â€œStitchwork,” Randi says, poking her needle up and down. “Better than homework.”
    â€œYeah,” Quinn says, looking up from his row of perfect blanket stitches. “I could get used to this.”
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    We take our stitchwork outside for recess. It’s stopped raining, but the playground is still wet, so we have to stay on the blacktop. The boys call dibs on the basketball court. We girls have to huddle together in the only corner with no puddles.
    Actually, there’s one puddle. A small one. Brooke, Stacey, Meeka, and Jolene sit on one side of it. Jenna and Randi sit on the other side. They remind me of the rocks on my windowsill at home.
    I know I should sit between them. The rock in the middle. But my butt would get wet. So I sit by Jenna and Randi instead. “Please hurry and evaporate,” I say secretly to the puddle. “Then maybe everyone will scoot together.”
    The puddle doesn’t shrink.
    I need another plan.
    â€œI’m going to do ten rows a day,” Stacey says, threading her needle.
    â€œYou don’t get extra credit for doing extra rows,” Jenna tells her.
    Stacey shrugs. “I don’t care. I just like sewing. It makes me wish I was living in pioneer times so I could go to one of those quilting bees Mrs. Eddy told us about. Where everyone sews, and chats about their cows, and drinks tea. That would be so sweet.”
    â€œNot unless you add a ton of sugar,” Randi says, glancing up from her stitches. “Tea tastes like wet leaves. Trust me. I’ve tried both.”
    â€œWe could do one at my house,” I suddenly say. “A quilting bee. Tomorrow, if you want. I’m sure my mom won’t care. Jenna is coming over anyway.” I glance at Jenna. “Is it a plan?”
    Jenna looks up from her tangled thread. “But we have other plans tomorrow, remember?”
    I’m quiet for a moment, remembering that Jenna is going to show me the secret in her woods tomorrow. “I’ll walk home with you after the quilting bee,” I say to her. “You can show me . . . the thing ... then.”
    Jenna thinks this over. “If we can ditch Rachel first, then . . . okay.”
    â€œShow Ida what?” Brooke asks, looking across the puddle at us.
    â€œNone of your bees wax,” Jenna tells her.
    Brooke huffs. “It better not be what I think it is,” she says.
    â€œIt doesn’t matter what you think,” Jenna replies. “We’re not friends anymore.”
    â€œEnough fighting,” Stacey cuts in. “I’m calling a truce.”
    â€œYou can’t call a truce,” Brooke snaps at Stacey. “ I’m in charge of this fight. Not you.”
    Stacey narrows her eyes at Brooke. I don’t see one speck of sparkle in them. She looks at Meeka and Jolene. “All in favor of calling a truce and doing a quilting bee at Ida’s house, say ‘Aye.’”
    â€œAye,” Meeka and Jolene say together.
    Stacey looks at Randi.
    â€œAye, aye, Captain.” Randi salutes. “I’ll bee there.”
    Stacey turns to Brooke. “Looks like a truce to me.”
    Brooke narrows her eyes at Stacey. “Fine,” she says. “I’ll allow one truce. But that’s it.”
    â€œ And one quilting bee,” I say. “Tomorrow. At my house.”
    â€œBuzz, buzz,” Randi says, nodding.
    â€œWe’ll have to dress up,” Jenna tells us.
    â€œYep,” Randi puts in. “Yellow stripes and stingers. Wings optional.” She snorts.
    â€œIn quilting bee costumes, not honey bee,” Jenna replies. “Sundresses, aprons, bonnets . . .”
    â€œNot tagboard bonnets, pleeease, ” Meeka says, glancing up from her stitches.
    Randi nods. “Skip the bonnets. Plus, I