BFF Breakup (22 page)

I
N MY DEFENSE, IT WAS THE WORST WEEKEND
ever.

Seeing my mom felt good in one way and horrible in another. Seeing her apartment made the idea that my parents were splitting up more of a reality. That night I realized it was all done. Not some trial separation or marriage counseling, but a clean split.

And maybe my friendship with Brooke wasn't as big as my parents' marriage, but to me it was still
really important. She was my best friend, and I decided that it was something I wanted to really try to fix. If she still hated me, then at least I could go on knowing I'd tried my hardest. I held out hope that one day, when we were old and in our rocking chairs, watching our grandkids play in the yard, these last few weeks would just be a tiny blip in the story of our friendship.

I spent the rest of the weekend I trying to write the best, most heartfelt response to her. I wrote and rewrote about seventy-five different messages but none of them seemed genuine. I knew I had to get it done before Monday when I'd see her at school, but the hours just slipped by me and before I knew it, I was getting into bed on Sunday night with no response to her message.

When I saw her at the locker, I felt shaky. I don't know what I thought she'd do, but I tried to say hello and she either didn't hear me or chose to ignore me. I wanted to tell her I was so happy we talked on Friday, and that we should totally hang out and try to be friends and all that good stuff. But when she was right there in front of me, I froze.

By the time our history class came around, I knew I had to do something or I'd miss my chance forever. She already looked different. Before she seemed upset and maybe hurt, but, to me, she always looked like she
was trying not to care. Now she just seemed steely and I couldn't read her, other than knowing she was not feeling warm and fuzzy toward me.

I wrote her a note in class.

Hey. Sorry I didn't get back to you this weekend. Drama with the fam. I totally want to hang out, though. Wanna meet out at the creek after school? We could just catch up, or whatever.

XO, M.

“Hey. Brooke.” I whispered across the aisle. She kept her eyes down on her worksheet. “
Psst
. Brooke.”

“Madeline,” Mrs. Stratford said. “No talking.”

I looked at Brooke, but she didn't budge.

When the bell rang I grabbed my books, note in hand, and practically chased her out the door. But Brooke dashed down the hall, past her locker and out of sight, ignoring my calls for her.

I decided to slide the note in her locker and hope she came by before the end of the day. On the outside of the note I wrote,
I'm sorry!!

Call me a chicken, but I took everything I needed from
my locker so I wouldn't have to go by it again and risk seeing her get the note. What if she threw it in my face, or tore it to pieces right in front of me? I decided I'd rather wait by the creek to see if she'd show, and if she didn't, well, I can't say I don't deserve that.

One thing was for sure—I wasn't about to tell Susanna and the girls. I didn't know what they'd say, but I was sure I wouldn't like it.

T
O BE HONEST, I WAS RELIEVED WHEN I GOT
Madeline's note. Maybe I should have been angry at being jerked around, but if I saw her and we could actually talk, maybe we could figure this whole thing out, because, as if it weren't obvious, I wanted to be friends again.

I didn't plan to tell Corrine and Lily, not until I knew what was going on for real. If we weren't going to be friends then I didn't need to tell them
anything. If we were, then I'd make sure it was real first, before I'd say something.

When Mom and I got home, she went straight to the kitchen computer and I went to my room to spruce up. I wasn't sure when Madeline wanted to meet out back, but I didn't want to be the first one there, and I also didn't want to look like I'd spent the last few weeks moping over her. Because I totally and completely had not.

I brushed out my long hair and tried different styles of pulling it back and up, but decided it looked best down. I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard, or that I'd come home and given myself a makeover or something. I changed into these really cute lounge pants that were dark blue with tiny white stars, and when I put on my tan wool boots, I looked cute but casual, I was sure of it.

Forty-five minutes later, I walked out the back door, down the slope covered in dead leaves, and through the trees. Madeline, earbuds in, was leaning against a tree, and staring down at a pink MP3 player.

When she looked up at me, her face didn't change but she took out her earbuds.

“Hey,” I said, and suddenly I wanted to turn around and run back home. What if her friends were hiding nearby, or she was going to laugh in my face and call me pathetic?

She rolled the cord around the player and took a step
toward me. A smile spread across Madeline's face—an uncertain kind of smile—and she kept coming toward me until we were face to face, and before I knew it, her arms were around me in a hug, squeezing me tight. I squeezed her back, unsure, happy, guarded. She let go and said, “I wasn't sure you'd come.”

“I wasn't either.”

“But I'm glad you did.”

“Me too.”

She was wearing the same thing as she wore to school and I think her hair was the same. She had a little plastic clip in the front, pulling her long bangs off her forehead.

“So . . . ” she began. “Did you have fun at the dance?”

“Yeah. It was fun.”

“Chris is such a good dancer. He had the whole place going wild.”

I smiled. “I know. I knew he had it in him; I just didn't know he had that much in him.”

We both kicked at the dirt and rocks, neither of us looking at the other.

“How's that Foods class?” Madeline asked. “Have you gotten to cook a lot?”

“A little,” I said. “I made homemade spaghetti sauce this week. I feel like I've really grown up, learning this skill. It's made me into a real woman.”

“You're lucky,” she said, matching my seriousness. “I don't know how to make sauce or anything, which means I'll probably never get into college.”

“There's always vocational school.”

She put her hands in her jeans pockets and smiled. “I don't even know what that is.”

I started to smile, too. “You better figure it out is all I'm saying.”

Madeline walked toward the shallow creek bed. “I haven't been down here since . . . since we talked. Is your dad still planning on putting up a rope swing?”

“He will, if we still want him to.” I looked up at the tree we'd talked about hanging it from, a tall oak with a long, U-shaped branch that stretched across the entire creek bed. “I'm trying to imagine Lily swinging across the creek, in her white shorts and pink sweaters. She'd totally freak out.”

Okay, I admit it. I brought up my friends as sort of a dig. I couldn't help myself, though. I wanted her to know that, even though I was there, meeting her, that I didn't really need her. I had other friends, and I wanted to make sure she understood that.

Madeline didn't respond, just smiled politely, looking up at the tree.

“So . . . what made you decide to finally cut your hair?” I asked.

She put her hand to the back of her neck. “It was sort of Susanna's idea. Or her mom's stylist's idea. Her mom let us go to her salon before the dance, and I guess I got the best stylist there. He said I should cut it off, so I did.” She pulled on the ends, which barely cleared her chin.

“You
had
to do what he said? Or what—he wouldn't cut your hair at all?”

“Well, no,” she said. “I just mean, you know, he said it would look good and didn't even know I'd been wanting it short so . . . I guess I thought that was a good sign. I was still kind of nervous, though. Actually, I wish you'd been there.”

She didn't say why, like that Susanna hadn't been supportive or something, and I didn't ask. I was just glad she'd said that. It meant a lot.

“Well, I meant it on Friday—it looks really good on you.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I'm still getting used to it. Listen,” she began. “I hope I didn't freak you out by not responding to your message. I mean online. I'm so glad you got my note, by the way. I was worried you wouldn't.”

“It was right on top of my Foods folder,” I said.

“Good. I mean, I'm just glad you got it. I meant to write you back this weekend but things just got a little crazy.”

“That's okay,” I said. I wondered just how busy she could be to not have two seconds to write back. I shook
the thought out of my head. She
did
write back. That's what mattered.

Madeline looked back at her house. “Maybe I should get back. My dad is supposed to be making dinner and I know he'll want help.”

“Okay,” I said. “Holler if you need some homemade spaghetti sauce.”

She smiled. “I will.” She didn't make an effort to turn to leave. She was looking off toward the creek water running slowly downstream. Finally, she said, “Hey, um. Are we okay? I mean . . . Do you think we could talk again, or hang out?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Definitely. Mads, I don't want to fight anymore.”

She looked like she might tear up when she said, “Yeah. Me neither.”

“I'll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Okay. Hey—should we ride together?”

Truthfully, I wasn't ready to do that just yet. What if something happened at school this week with Susanna or one of her other friends? Then I'd have to come up with another explanation to Mom about what was going on. I wanted to wait a bit before jumping in.

“My mom is already planning on driving me in this week. Maybe next week?”

She nodded like she understood. “Okay. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” I said.

It wasn't much, I decided, but it was a first step.

Later that night, I knew I wanted to warn—er,
tell
Corrine and Lily about this. Madeline was genuine, and I didn't think I had much to be worried about. Besides, if I was going to try to be friends with her, that meant I had to try to trust her, and
that
meant believing she wasn't going to do something mean to me again.

Hey, guys.

Just wanted to let you know that there was a big misunderstanding with Madeline not writing me back. She did! We actually talked a bit tonight and even though it's kind of weird (okay, really weird!), we're going to try to be friends again. You guys have totally stood by me through this whole mess and I'm SO LUCKY to have friends like you! Now, off to study for a history test tomorrow.

Wish me luck!

I went to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Then I went back to the computer to see if either of them had written back.

There was this short message from Lily:

Of course we're cool with it! I'm so happy for you! I know you and Madeline were superfriends forever and it always made me sad that you guys broke up. I know things will be great now. Don't worry about us!

Then this (less enthusiastic) response from Corrine:

I completely support you and want you to be happy. Just be careful, okay?