Bending Over Backwards (13 page)

“Really? Yes!” I beamed up at her. “Cheering looks like so much fun.”

“Fun, sure. Hard work, definitely.”

“When something's hard, I work harder,” I promised.

“My kind of girl! What's your name?”

I told her, and she turned to the squad. “Molly's going to watch and learn with us today. And tomorrow, we hope she'll be back.” Then she leaned down and whispered in my ear. “If you like it, Andre owns both the gymnastics and the cheering gym. Your mom won't lose any money.”

“I'll be back,” I told her. “You can count on it.”

“Water break!” she called to the squad.

“I have shorts and sneakers in my bag.” I pointed to the duffel I'd dropped at my feet.

“I like a girl who travels with possibilities. A girl who opens new doors.” She nodded to the far wall. “You know where the locker room is. Change, then come show me some pep.”

I hurried inside. My overstuffed bag had certainly come in handy today. Who knew throwing everything from my closet into the bag made me such a good packer?

“I knew it! I knew it!” Shrimp burst into the locker room. “I knew you should be a cheerleader.”

“I can't wait to tumble with you.” I pulled on my shorts and tied my sneakers.

“You and me, Christmas tree.” She jumped up and down with excitement.

“Um, that one didn't work so well.”

“I know, right?” Shrimp wrinkled her freckled nose. “Help me here? I need a better rhyme.”

“Tennessee? Or how about bumblebee?”

“I like that. You and me, bumblebee.” Shrimp buzzed loudly in my ear.

I buzzed even louder in hers. She buzzed back. Soon we couldn't stop laughing.

“Listen. Is your real name Sheila?” I asked.

“Yuck. Don't ever repeat that. It's a secret.” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you dig up my horrible name?”

“I think my mom met your mom in the bathroom where they work. Weird, right?”

“Totally,” Shrimp agreed.

Then I had an idea. “Since we're friends, maybe our moms can be friends too?” How great would it be if I found Mom a friend? And one who lived practically in our backyard?

“Works for me. You guys can come over tonight.” Shrimp smirked. “Does she want to climb the fence?”

“I'm thinking we'll leave the sheets on your beds and walk.”

After I changed, I pulled out my phone. “I need to call my friend Eden really quickly.”

“Hurry,” Shrimp said. “Coach doesn't like us to be late. I want to show you what we do out there.”

“Don't be mad, but I'm not coming today,” I told Eden when she picked up.

“Really?” The disappointment in her voice was clear. “I got a bunch of avocados for your masks. I thought we'd order burritos from Senor Chavez too.”

“Yum. Oh, Eden, I'm sorry.”

“Did your mom say no?” she asked.

“She was surprisingly good with it,” I admitted. “Stuff came up. I'm going to hang out here and come another time. I'm really sorry.”

“Roseann stuff?” Eden sounded excited for me. “Is everything great with you two now?”

“Everything's great, but not with Roseann. The best friend thing isn't going to happen with us.”

“Oh no!” Eden cried. “I thought all our steps were
working. They seemed to be, right?”

“I followed our steps, but you know what? They led to the wrong girl.”

“Wrong girl? What do you mean?” she asked.

“I found a different friend. A better friend. A friend who likes to have fun.” I smiled at Shrimp. “You'd love her too.”

“Who is she? Tell me all!” Eden gushed.

“Shrimp!” I said. “I'll call you later with all the details, okay? Right now I'm going to learn how to be a cheerleader.”

“Cheerleader?” Eden cried. “Whoa!”

“Lots of changes here,” I told her. “Good ones.”

“Hi, Eden!” Shrimp called.

“Is that her?” Eden asked.

“That is. Wait a sec. I'm sending you a photo.”

Flipping my phone, I focused in on me and Shrimp. We squished our faces together as I snapped our photo. Then I snapped another, making fishy faces. And another with wide eyes.

I sent them to Eden.

My kind of It Girl!
I texted.

Eden texted back: ☺

Finn slipped a hair elastic off her wrist and pulled her shoulder-length blond hair into a low ponytail. “Okay,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Party planning. Let's do this.”

Gigi couldn't help but laugh. Of course Finn would approach their task with the same intensity as a big soccer match. Of course she would.

“What we need,” Finn continued, “is a strategy.”

Gigi shook her head. “What we need is the Wall.”

The two of them turned to face the wall opposite Gigi's loft bed. It was fourteen feet of history between them. Every last inch had been covered with posters, pictures, stickers, pages ripped from magazines—if you could stick it somewhere, the Wall was where it went.

Finley had actually started the tradition, with a picture of the two of them taken on the first day of preschool. They were dressed in matching blue jumpers and red-sequined flats, and they grinned at the camera, arms linked and heads touching. She'd pasted it smack in the center of the Wall, which at the time was covered with Disney princess wallpaper. Finn declared, “Princess Aurora, you are hereby banished from the Kingdom of Bedroom. Long live Eff and Gee!”

It was a ritual they continued to this day, “banishing” the things they'd outgrown, like the sparkly Polly Pocket decal and a poster of a certain boy band of brothers. Whatever replaced the “banished” item was proclaimed to be superior—the best, coolest, most Eff and Gee thing
ever
.

Sometimes the ceremonies were solemn, like when they'd come down with a serious case of Bieber fever. Other times, they were beyond silly, like when they took turns replacing the heads of My Little Ponies with those of their favorite celebrities. Like centaurs, but with famous people. (Together Eff and Gee had declared, “Long live the cen-stars!”)

There was the photo of last year's
The Cat in the Hat
—with Gigi in costume and makeup as the titular feline, and Finn decked out as Thing One—pasted among souvenirs from every other play and talent show Gigi and Finn had ever been in.

Another section of the Wall was devoted entirely to birthday parties past; each year, the girls cut the number of their age out of theme-appropriate scrapbook paper and pasted a picture of themselves from the party on top of it.

There was last year's mall scavenger hunt, of course. For their tenth birthday blowout, they'd thrown a retro roller skating party at the Christiana Skating Center. For nine, they both dressed up as Hermione Granger for their Harry Potter party, and two years before that was the karaoke slumber party they had in Finley's basement. They'd invited so many girls, you couldn't so much as walk to the bathroom without stepping on someone's sleeping bag.

Gigi's eyes rested on her favorite photo of the bunch—the super-glam portrait of her and Finn from their sixth birthday party, which had been held at a Sweet & Sassy salon in neighboring Pennsylvania. Because of the distance, their parents had rented them an honest-to-goodness pink limo, and all of their best girlfriends piled in. The only grown-ups allowed were Gigi's and Finley's moms. Technically, Finley's little brother, Logan, had been on board too, as he'd hitched a ride in Finn's mother's swollen belly.

“Remember how much fun that was?” Gigi asked, running her finger along the photo's glittery pink frame.

“Aww,” Finn cooed. “Look how cute we are in those matching sequined tutus!”

“Whatever we decide for this party,” Gigi said, “I feel strongly that it should include costumes.”

Finn sighed. “Not everyone likes to play dress-up, Gee.”

“But
we
do,” Gigi responded. “And it's
our
birthday. So. If our friends want to bask in our fabulousness, they're going to have to dress appropriately.”

Finley nodded like she agreed but then started to nibble on an invisible hangnail on her thumb. This, Gigi knew, was something her best friend did when she was conflicted. A nervous habit, born out of the fact that Finn hated to argue about anything.

Now it was Gigi's turn to sigh. Why wouldn't Finley just talk to her? How hard was it to tell your best friend what you were really thinking?

Then, as if she had read Gigi's mind, Finley said, “It's just that . . . well, costumes are more your thing than mine. So couldn't we, um, make them optional?”

“Of course,” Gigi said. “As long as they stay on the menu. Deal?”

Finley grinned. “Deal.”

The girls continued to bat ideas back and forth. Or rather, Gigi batted ideas to Finn, who proceeded to shoot them down.

GEE: What about a Southern tea party? We could have finger sandwiches and—ooh!—I can ask my mom-mom to make her famous seven-layer coconut cake!

EFF: Tea party? I thought we were turning twelve, not a hundred and twelve.

GEE: (Thinking.)

EFF: (Staring at same invisible hangnail.)

GEE: I know! We can go full-on Peter Pan, complete with pirate treasure hunt.

EFF: (Shoots Gee a look.)

GEE: What? You wanted something younger!

EFF: Maybe not that young.

GEE: Okayyy. How about a super-cool Las Vegas theme? We could play poker—with M&Ms, of course.

EFF: Of course.

GEE: It could be really swanky. Ooh! We can make the invitations out of playing cards!

EFF: Huh.

GEE: What?

EFF: Southern tea? Steel Magnolias. Peter Pan? Hook. Vegas? Ocean's Eleven. Do you have any birthday party ideas not inspired by a Julia Roberts movie?

GEE: What's wrong with Julia Roberts?

EFF: Nothing. I'm just saying, our party doesn't have to have some kind of tie to your redheaded spirit twin.

[END BRAINSTORM SESSION.]

Gigi flopped back on her bed, covering her face with her arms. “This is hopeless!” she cried. “We're getting nowhere.”

“True,” Finn agreed. “You know what we need? A break.”

“A break from what?”

“We're thinking way too hard about this. I say we go downstairs, make a couple of smoothies, and watch a movie. I'll even let you pick which one.”

“Even if it's
Runaway
—”

“
Bride
,” Finn finished for her. “Yes. I had a feeling you'd go for that one.”

And just that like that, Gigi felt the party-planning tension melt clean away.

As the closing credits rolled, Finn put her sneakers back on and tightened the laces.

“Are you leaving?” Gigi asked.

“It'll be getting dark soon,” Finley said. “I need to finish my run.”

“But what about the party?”

“Tomorrow,” Finn said. “After cooking class. I promise we'll figure it out then. 'Kay?”

Gigi nodded. She wasn't sure why she felt quite so deflated. It must've shown on her face, though, because Finn said, “Don't look so mopey. We'll get this party planned. We always do.” Finn waved as she jogged out the door. “It's the weekend. We'll have plenty of time. Thank
god
it's Friday, right, dude?”

Finn headed out the door, and Gigi trudged back upstairs to her room.

It was just shy of five, which meant it was almost eleven in Prague. Her father's company had sent him there earlier in the week, but work had kept him so busy they'd only Skyped once, instead of every day like they usually did on his extended business trips.

At her desk, Gigi fired up her laptop. She launched Skype and clicked to connect with GeorgePrince71, but he didn't answer.
This is exactly why,
she thought,
her mother simply had to get her an iPhone for her birthday.
That way she could just text her father, like any normal girl her age.

Disconnected from her dad. Ditched by her BFF.

TGIF?
Gigi thought.
Yeah, right.