BFF Breakup (17 page)

I stopped writing. My jaw hurt from clenching it and my shoulders were up by my ears. I took a deep breath and looked back at what Madeline had written to me. She didn't really care about anything but herself. I wanted to be there for her as her parents got divorced but she never seemed to want me. Susanna, the divorce expert, was always there. I get that Madeline would rather talk to someone who knew more of what she was going through, but that didn't mean that I couldn't help in some way too.
I thought she didn't want me around as much, that she wanted some space or something as she tried to figure out her life with split parents. I'd been guessing at what she wanted because she never told me. How was I supposed to know I was doing something wrong or falling short of her expectations as a friend if she didn't say a word?

No matter what I wrote back, it would only fuel things. I realized, with resigned finality, that Madeline and I couldn't be friends anymore. She thought I was a bad friend. She said and did horrible things to me, things that she had no excuse for and couldn't even apologize for. Even if I did suck it up this time and patch things up with her for the sake of our friendship, how would I know she wouldn't do it again? How could I trust her?

I deleted my message and signed out completely. I wasn't even going to respond.

I went to my room and lay on my bed, resting my head on a pillow of stuffed animals. I pulled out the one closest to me—a gray kitten I never got around to naming—and tried not to cry. Then I gave up and just cried. As I bawled like a baby once again over Madeline, I told myself that this was the last time. I'd give myself this moment and then I would pick myself up and move on. I had to. I couldn't keep wondering if we would work things out and how we might be friends again. I couldn't keep hoping
things would go back to normal because it was clear now they never would.

I cried over her because I loved her and I missed her so much. I cried because I was mad she was doing this to us and because it was clear that she didn't love me anymore. I didn't love her like a sister, because Madeline and I were even closer than Abbey and I. She was something bigger than that, to me anyway. Clearly the feeling wasn't mutual. Instead of trying to make it work and accepting blame for something I didn't do, I just had to cry it all out, then move on.

It's such an amazing feeling knowing you have friends who will be there when things get rough. Even though Corrine and Lily and I have only been friends for a week or so, I hoped that when I called, they'd step up. And they did.

I didn't actually call, though; I IMed. I asked if they wanted to go get some ice cream or go to a movie or something, anything. The morning had been terrible and I didn't want to spend the day moping around the house.

Must get out of house,
I wrote.
STAT!!

Sounds like an emergency,
Corrine wrote.
We're there!

My dad said he'd take us to the Brentwoods,
Lily wrote, referring to a shopping area that had an upscale ice-cream shop that always smelled like fresh waffle cones and liquid chocolate.

Getting in the Bat Mobile now,
Corrine wrote.
Stand by!

See?
I thought to myself.
Real friends.

When I slid into the back of Lily's dad's Audi, both girls asked, “You okay?” And because Lily's dad was right there, I smiled and said, “Yeah! Good!”

He dropped us off at the end of the shopping area so we could walk around and maybe stop somewhere else besides the ice-cream place.

“I like coming here,” Lily said as we strolled down the walk, “because it's like the places we usually go but kind of fancy. I like to pretend we're grown-up and doing some shopping while our kids are at lacrosse or something.” I could see her blush, even in the setting sun. “I guess that's pretty dumb.”

“Not at all,” I said.

“Of course not,” Corrine said, walking in the middle, her hands in the pockets of her baggy jeans. Lily was dressed in pressed khakis and ballet flats. They looked like
total opposites but neither seemed to care. I'd never think Corrine would hang out here on her own. I might not either. I was already seeing that Lily was the type of girl you just didn't mind doing things with that you wouldn't normally do. Probably because she so rarely asked you to. “These stores are kind of cool. And the ice cream really is much better than the mall, even if it is more expensive.”

“My mom says sometimes you have to pay for quality. It's just a matter of knowing when it's worth it,” Lily said.

As we walked down the wide sidewalks, past ornate cast-iron lampposts that were just turning on, Corrine said, “So . . . everything okay with you, Brooke?”

I didn't say anything at first, trying to decide how I would phrase it and how much I should tell them. I figured at this point I should just let it all out, but part of me felt bad about dumping all my problems on them when we'd just become friends. Another part still felt like I was betraying Madeline by complaining about our fight.

I decided to just jump in and tell them. “I'm kind of freaking out. You know my best friend, Madeline?”

“Of course,” Lily said. “You guys are fighting, right?”

A lump formed in my throat, and a flash of her laughing face crossed my mind. “Actually, well . . . we're not friends anymore.”

“At all?” Corrine asked. I shook my head and felt the
tears welling up. I just needed to get through this, and then everything would be okay.

“Oh, no,” Lily said. The girls slowed their pace and waited for me to talk.

“I didn't tell you guys, but we got into this awful fight on the phone.” I shook my head. “She said some really terrible things to me.”

“Like what?” Lily asked.

I didn't want to tell them. It was embarrassing, knowing my own best friend thought I was some burden who didn't have a life. I wasn't about to say those things out loud, so I said, “Imagine the parts of yourself that you like the least. Like, any insecurities you have. Then imagine your best friend throwing those things in your face and being all, ‘
That's
the kind of person you are.'” I bit my lip to keep from crying. “That's pretty much what she said to me.”

“Whoa,” Corrine said.

“I know,” I said. “It was all way below the belt.”

“For sure,” Corrine said.

“That was the last time we talked, and then this morning I got an e-mail from her, sort of apologizing.”

“Well, that's great!” Lily said. “I'm sure she didn't mean those things she said.”

“What did the e-mail say?” Corrine asked.

“She said she was sorry for not standing up for me that day in cafeteria with Susanna. Then she said, and I quote, ‘If you want to be my friend again, that's cool.'”

“What?” Corrine asked. “Please tell me you're making that up.”

“I wish.”

“Hardcore,” she said, shaking her head.

“Oh, Brooke, I'm so sorry,” Lily said.

“Me, too,” said Corrine. “I mean, dang.” Corrine kept her eyes on the sidewalk, her mouth curled in a slight snarl.

“She's just different this year,” I said. “Her parents are getting divorced and I tried to be there for her but every time I offered to help, like to go to her place or invited her to mine, she said no. It's like she only wanted to hang out with Susanna. But maybe I'm being too hard on her. Her parents
are
getting a divorce after all. Maybe she's just really upset about that and doesn't mean to take it out on me.”

“No way,” Corrine said. “I'm sorry, but don't even say that. Best friends don't treat each other like that, no matter what's going on in their lives. Going through something bad doesn't give you the right to treat people poorly. It's not like it's a free pass or something.”

“I guess,” I said. “She's basically had this attitude
lately, even before her parents said they were splitting. It's getting old. Maybe she's just been looking for an excuse to get rid of me.” I heard myself saying these things about Madeline, but I wasn't sure yet how I felt about it—talking bad about her. It was strange. I didn't like it, but I also was too angry and hurt to care too much. And maybe saying these things out loud would help me get over her more quickly. If I said them, maybe I could convince myself they were true.

“Forget her,” Corrine said.

“We'll never do anything mean to you,” Lily said. “We promise.”

I smiled. “Thanks, guys.”

We walked up to Sophie Rose Creamery, and when Lily opened the door, the amazing fresh scent washed over me. I wasn't so immature that I thought a fresh waffle cone of cake batter ice cream could make everything okay, but it did make me feel happy, even if just for a moment.

“Come on,” Lily said. “Ice cream's on me.”

I went into the shop thinking,
This is how friends treat friends: there for you no matter what.

I
STARED AT MY COMPUTER ALL WEEKEND,
waiting for a reply from Brooke. Why wasn't she responding? Didn't she want this whole thing to be over too? Didn't she care about our friendship?

As the hours, then the whole weekend, went by without a word from her, I had to decide that that was it. I'd done what I could to fix the whole stupid mess; she'd done nothing to fix the whole stupid mess, so I guess we weren't talking indefinitely.

I was surprised, to be honest. Sad and surprised.
I guess I never thought Brooke would give up so easily. I did most of the work for her on mending things between us—extending the olive branch and all—but she couldn't just write back and say, “Me, too. Sorry.” Instead she gave me total cyber silence.

I did not want to get depressed over her. Like I didn't have enough going on in my life? I hadn't heard from my mom in five days because she was getting “settled” in her new apartment. The house was still and lonely with everyone with a car staying out of it as much as possible. Whatever, I didn't care. I didn't care about home and I didn't care about Mom and I certainly didn't care about Brooke. I had my new friends who understood what I was going through and who stood by me, no matter what.

Still, as I got dressed for school on Monday, I slipped the treasure box necklace she'd given me around my neck. I dropped it inside my shirt so she wouldn't see it.

When I got to school I decided I wasn't going to purposely try to avoid seeing Brooke in the halls or at our locker. I was just going to carry on with my normal routine as though she didn't exist. Why should I go out of my way to avoid her when she couldn't be bothered to respond to me?

At my locker before first period, I took my time getting my books, looking for a pen, pulling out crumpled papers
to see if anything important was written on them, and checking my hair in my mirror.

“'Scuse me,” a voice said.

Without looking at her, I stepped aside so she could get into her locker below mine. Thank god I kept the top locker. It was actually kind of sad seeing her kneel below me.

“Tell me what's next,” I heard Susanna say. Today she wore a pleated blue skirt and a headband to match.

“Hey,” I said. “What's up?”

“I'll tell you what's up, what's next,” she said. “Shopping. My darling, the fall semi is happening in one week, and we are going, and we will look amazing. What are you doing today after school?”

“Nothing,” I said, and I had to admit I was glad Susanna was a) not acknowledging Brooke, who was just finishing up at the locker and shuffling away; and b) that she invited me to do something right in front of Brooke. That'll show her that I don't need her. She can
not
respond to me all day if she wants.

“Want to shop? My mom is taking me, and I think Natalie and Julia are coming too. Or we can just go by ourselves if you'd rather.”

“I'll have to ask my dad,” I said. “I'll need his credit card or something.”

“Or we can go tomorrow. Whatevs,” she said, and it
was all so easy. Today, tomorrow, it didn't matter. We were friends, making plans, la la la. I shut my locker and we started down the hall together. “And there she goes,” Susanna said, referring to Brooke just turning the corner. “She scurries like a mouse. Still not talking to her?”

“Nope. That's all done now.” I made sure to sound like I didn't care. I wasn't about to mention the e-mail I sent on Friday. No freaking way.

“You're better off,” Susanna said. “She was totally trying to bring you down.”

“I know,” I said, tugging on the chain of my necklace. “So lame.”

“I really don't get why she thinks she's better than everyone else. I heard her family lives in a lean-to and is on the verge of food stamps.”