My Worst Best Friend (18 page)

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Savanna.” She wasn’t looking in the mirror, so she couldn’t see the scornful expression on my face. “I’m sorry, but didn’t we have this conversation already?”

“That was
then
,” said Savanna. “
Now
, Archie says you stuck as close to Cooper as a stamp to an envelope when you all went bowling without me. He told me all about it.” She stopped looking at her lap. “Which is, like, more than you did.”

“Because there was nothing to tell. And I didn’t—”

“Archie was full of all kinds of information, Gracie.” Maybe it was because of the plastic cap on her head, but she reminded me of one of those old movies where the women all sit under the dryers at the hairdressers’, gossiping about their neighbours and friends. “He said you even got Cooper to put his arms around you.”

If I hadn’t had gloves covered with gloop on my hands I would have slapped my forehead. “I didn’t
get him to
, Savanna. He was showing me how to bowl. That’s why I finally managed to knock something down.”

Just to prove that her repertoire of animal sounds wasn’t limited to honking like a goose, Savanna snorted like a horse. “In the snack bar?” She smiled. Thinly. “Don’t the balls trip people up? That must get kind of messy.”

“No, not in the snack bar. In the lanes.”

“Archie said that you were practically on Cooper’s lap in the snack bar.”

This was so ridiculous that I burst out laughing.

“Have you and I met, or what?”

Savanna’s lips were twitching, but she wasn’t going
to give up yet. She single-handedly redefined the limits of stubbornness.

“You
have
been hanging out with Cooper a lot,” she said.

“No, I haven’t.”

“You went to the library with him.”

“One time. To get some books. And it was
his
idea.”

Even though Savanna didn’t wear glasses, the way she was looking at me made it seem as if she did. “But you did tell him you’d be at Anzalone’s.
And
you invited him back to Marilouise’s for cake.”

“No, I didn’t. Marilouise—”

“You go to that quacking thing with him.”

“They’re
Quakers
. Some of them. And I don’t go
with
him. I—”

“Well, he’s there, Gracie. And you didn’t used to go, did you? You only went in the first place because of him.”

“Oh, you really are too much.” I was ready to throw the disposable sponge applicator at her. “I don’t even like Cooper. I only got to be friends with him because of you.”

I don’t know why I said that. You know, about not liking him. It sounded like I disliked him. It just came flying out of my mouth like a bat from a cave at dusk. It was like the time when I was little and I told my dad that I wished he was dead. I didn’t want him to be dead. I never want him to be dead.

“Really?”

“I told you before, Savanna. I could never like him like you’re saying.”

“Phew!” Savanna pretended to wipe sweat from her forehead. “Archie really had me worried. He seemed so sure. And I really didn’t want to see you make a fool of yourself.”

I gazed at the two of us in the mirror. Octopus
Woman and a short bandit.

Me neither.

She rolled her eyes. “I should’ve known Archie was up the wrong tree.”

“Exactly. Way the wrong tree.”

Even
though he’d absolutely promised, Morgan couldn’t see Savanna that weekend after all.

“He’s just, like, really busy, Gracie,” Savanna explained. She meant that he was
still
really busy. “I mean, Thursday
is
Thanksgiving, so, obviously, he’s got a lot going on. He said that he’ll see what he can do.”

He was either a spy or a turkey farmer.

“You should’ve heard him on the phone, Gray. He was, like, so sweet and sorry I thought he was going to cry.”

I thought I was going to cry, too. One of the things I’d always loved about Savanna was her optimistic nature. You know, because I was such a worrier. But now I was starting to worry about her optimism.

“At least this gives us a chance to go to the mall on Sunday,” Savanna said. Besides needing something for the Christmas dance, she didn’t feel that her wardrobe was really worthy of Morgan Scheck. (Just in case she ever saw him again.) “And we can’t go next weekend when everybody else starts their Christmas shopping – because The Professor’s doing that thing he does, so we’re busy.”

I didn’t really want to go to the mall. I wanted to help my dad start getting ready for that thing he does. Which is Remember the Wampanoag Day. My father never makes a big deal out of Thanksgiving. He has issues with the Pilgrims. The day he makes a big deal of is Remember the Wampanoag Day. The Wampanoag were the people who helped the colonizers. My dad says we should never forget the arrogance of the invaders or how the Wampanoags’ trust and kindness was repaid with genocide and theft. So every year, on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, my father invites all his friends and his whole department and their families over for a major meal. Everybody brings something to drink and a dessert, and he cooks succotash and stuffed squash, talks about the Iroquois Confederacy until you feel like you’d been there, and, after dinner, he and his band play and everybody sings along to “The Ballad of Ira Hayes” and “Pocahontas.” It’s a big deal for me, too. It’s the kind of day that makes you think you’ve always been happy. That’s why we were busy the next weekend. Savanna was coming to remember the Wampanoags.

So on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, we took the one o’clock bus to the mall.

* * *

Savanna twisted to the left, then twisted to the right. “What do you think, Gray? Does it make me look older?”

“Older than what?”

She sighed. “Gracie… I’m dating a college man, remember? I don’t want to look, like, juvenile. I want to look mature and sophisticated.”

“It’s yellow.” I was getting really bored. It was at least the twelfth outfit she’d tried on. “Yellow doesn’t make anyone look older, unless it’s the colour of her skin.”

Savanna screwed up her mouth, still staring at the mirror. “You’re right. It makes me look like something you’d get in your Easter basket.” She heaved another sigh.

“Well, what about that red skirt and jacket we saw? There was nothing juvenile about that. I’ll go and get it if you want. It’d look great on you.”

“Oh, nonononono.” She shook her head. “Not red. Red’s, like, totally not in the equator.”

“
Equation
. And I don’t see why. I mean, half of your clothes are red. You love red. Red’s your colour.”

Not any more it wasn’t.

“Yeah, I know that. I mean, I did really used to like it a lot. But that was when I was a lot younger.”

“You mean two weeks ago?”

She stuck her tongue out at me. In a mature and sophisticated way. “Anyway,
now
it just seems loud and, you know, really childish.”

“I thought red was supposed to be sexy.”

“If it’s a Dior cocktail dress or something like that, Gray, you can, like, maybe get away with it. But not if it’s just for casual. And anyway, the point is that Morgan’s a muted-colours man. Didn’t I tell you he was wearing this awesome desert-pink shirt the last time I saw him?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You did mention it. But he wouldn’t be wearing the suit, Savanna. You would.”

There was another woe-is-me sigh. “Maybe I’ll check out the green again.” She reached over and took a dress from one of the hooks on the wall. “Here,” said Savanna. “Why don’t you try this on while I’m changing?”

I stared at the dress she was holding. It was short and thin and bandage-like and looked like it was probably the reason they invented thongs.

“Me? I thought that was for
you
.”

“It was.” She gave it a shake. “But I’m not sure about black. Black is more your colour, isn’t it?”

“It’s not black,” I argued. “It’s covered in glittery stuff.”

“Don’t quibble,” sighed Savanna. “Anyway, I got the wrong size by mistake. It’s way too short for me.”

“But I’m not here to buy anything.”

“You don’t have to buy it, Gray, just try it on.” She shimmied it towards me. “So we can see what you look like when you’re being feminine.”

I knew what I’d look like – an unconvincing female impersonator.

“I think I should go and get that red outfit for—”

“Oh, please, Gracie. It’s not going to kill you just to try it on.” She edged it closer. “It’ll be fun.”

“Funny is not the same as fun.”

“Pleasepleaseplease…” She pretty much shoved the dress into my arms. “Your inner girl will thank you.”

My inner girl must have been more eager to get out than I’d thought, because (and against my better judgement) instead of arguing, I put on the dress. With difficulty.

“There,” I said, when I’d finally managed to struggle into it. “Are you happy now?”

Savanna stepped back so she was against the door of our cubicle. I could see her in the mirror with her chin in her hand and her eyes narrowed, studying me in a critical, will-this-boat-float? kind of way. “Yes, Gracie. Yes, I am happy now. I really like that dress.” She nodded. Slowly. “It’s simple but classic. It’s definitely you.”

Simple, maybe. I wasn’t so sure about classic.

“It is?” It looked like someone else to me. Someone taller. And with breasts. Someone who risked haemorrhaging to death by shaving her legs more than once every couple of months.

She nodded faster this time. “Yes, it is. It’s exactly what I’ve been telling you about the real, feminine you lurking under your grab-that-lizard façade, Gray. You look, like, totally great in that dress.”

I could see that I didn’t look horrifically hideous or anything – I just didn’t look like me.

“You really think so?” I turned around to see myself from the back. At least I was never going to have to go into massive debt to have fat sucked from my butt. “I think it looks weird.” Aside from the problems with breathing and walking, I couldn’t see how you could possibly sit down in this dress unless you had a blanket to throw over your thighs.

Savanna hummed like our old refrigerator. “That’s because you’re wearing basketball boots, Gracie. Try to picture it with heels and stockings.”

I could picture the dress with heels and stockings all right. But I wasn’t in them. I was still wearing my basketball boots and my giraffe socks.

“You’re wrong, Sav. The real me likes jeans and shoes you can walk through woods in. I wouldn’t wear this in a zillion years.”

“Yes, you would,” said Savanna. “It’s absolutely perfect for the Christmas dance. The glitteriness makes it look like you’ve been dusted with snow.”

Or like I had terminal dandruff.

“Savanna, I am not buying something new for a dance I don’t actually want to go to. And if I was, you know I wouldn’t buy it here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please! Spare me the high moral principles, Gray. This is going to be a really special night. You’re going to need something festive … and dressy…” She leered. “And sexy. Which means that you, like, totally can’t buy a dress for the Christmas dance in a thrift store. It’s out of the question.”

“Excuse me, Ms Zindle. But I never said I’d go to the dance, remember? I’m still thinking it over.”

She pretended to yawn. “OK, so you’re
still
thinking it over. But just in case you
do
decide to go, you’re going to need something to wear, aren’t you?”

“Well, it won’t be this.” Not only was it steeped in toxic chemicals and human misery, it was mega-expensive. Considering how little material there was in it, it was more expensive than gold. I tugged the dress over my head. “I can’t afford it.”

“Of course you can. What about all your babysitting money?”

Most of what I made went straight into the bank – into my Send-Gracie-Mooney-to-College Fund – or paid for my cell phone.

“Well, you could use a little tiny bit of it,” argued Savanna. “Just this once.”

“You know I don’t like impulse buying. I have to sleep on it.” I reached for the hanger. “And I don’t have the money to buy it now, anyway.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll get it for you.” Savanna’s smile got brighter. “I’ll put it on my mother’s card. You can pay it back whenever.”

“No, I don’t wa—”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Savanna snatched the dress from my hand. “I mean, like, really, what are friends for?”

We were on our way to the cashier when Savanna was distracted by a display she hadn’t seen on our first trawl through.

“Wait a minute, Gray. These are kind of cool.” She handed me the dress and held a pale blue sweater up in front of her. “What do you think?”

“It’s nice.” It was a plain pullover. There wasn’t that much to say about it. Unless it was to point out that it was probably made in China.

She dropped the blue sweater and picked up a beige one. “How about this?”

“That’s nice, too.” Except for the colour, it was exactly the same.

Savanna smooshed her lips together. “Gracie, that is not being helpful. Which one do you like better?”

“I don’t know…” I looked from one to the other. You wouldn’t be able to tell them apart in candlelight. “I guess the blue.”

“Really? What’s wrong with the beige?”

“Nothing’s wrong with the beige. But you asked me my opinion and—”

“Ohmigod!” Savanna’s eyes were focused behind me and transfixed with horror. If we weren’t standing under the fluorescent lights in the leisurewear section of The Clothes Horse, I’d have thought she’d seen a ghost. She clutched my arm. “There’s Archie!” I was pretty sure her nails were making holes in my flesh. “I can’t let him see me.” That would be because she’d told him she was grounded so she could keep the weekend free for the Scheck. Just in case. (I did say she was an optimist.) Savanna dropped to the floor.

For about half a nanosecond, I kept looking at the space where she’d been, and then I slowly turned around. Archie wasn’t alone. He and Cooper were riding down the escalator together.

I felt as if I’d fallen through a hole in the ice. You know, frozen. Now that I knew that everyone thought I was after Cooper, running into Archie and Cooper was embarrassing enough – but running into them with Savanna crouched under a clothes carousel beside me put it into a whole other league of humiliation.