Better Off Friends, Page 2

  Levi’s mom didn’t hesitate. “Why don’t you come over on Wednesday? Only if you want.”

  I glanced over at Levi, who looked at me and mouthed the words she’d just said — only if you want.

  “Sure!” Uncle Adam agreed.

  “I’ll give you my number, and Macallan’s father can call me if he has any concerns, okay?”

  Levi pointed to the button on his bag, his eyebrow arching in a playful manner. I imagined us watching Buggy and Floyd together.

  I do, I mouthed back.

  The two adults exchanged phone numbers. The negative me said Levi’s mom was doing this because she thought my uncle was unfit to look after me. The positive me said she was a nice person who wanted her son to have friends.

  Or maybe she feels sorry for you, the negative me said.

  She doesn’t know, the positive me spoke up. This wasn’t the same thing as a non-friend suddenly paying attention to you or offering a shoulder to cry on, or bringing over a casserole that was nothing your mother would have ever, ever cooked for you.

  Uncle Adam and I got into his car. He always made sure I was buckled up properly before he turned on the ignition.

  “Everything okay?” He looked at me intently.

  “Yeah,” I said, even though I had no idea how to feel about what had just happened. I didn’t really like unexpected turns. I’d had more than my share by that point.

  Adam looked so sad. “Your mother loved picking you up from school.”

  I nodded, which was pretty much the only response I had whenever anybody brought her up.

  A tear started trickling down his face. “You look so much like her.”

  I’d been getting used to this. I loved that I looked like my mother. I had her big hazel eyes, heart-shaped face, and wavy auburn hair that turned strawberry blond in the summer.

  But I was also that mirror girl, the walking reminder of what we all had lost.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and promised myself: In fifteen minutes, you can work on algebra homework. In fifteen minutes, you’ll have a reprieve. Get through these next fifteen minutes and you’ll be fine.

  Do you really think my mom offered to give you a ride out of pity?

  Not anymore. Now I know your mom is the definition of incredible.

  Like mother, like son.

  Oh, please.

  But you admit you only invited me to sit with you at lunch out of pity.

  Totally.

  See, you’re supposed to lie and say you wanted to hang out with me because you thought I was beyond cool.

  So you want me to lie?

  Um, yeah. Friends lie to make each other feel better. You didn’t know that?

  Have I told you that you look really cute today?

  Thanks, I — Wait a second.

  I was upset when my parents first told me we were moving to Wisconsin. Like, why did I have to totally give up my friends and my life because Dad got a big promotion? Why couldn’t we have stayed in Santa Monica, where the weather was sweet and the waves were sick?

  But then I realized I could have a fresh start. I always used to be jealous when a new guy came to our school. He’d get all this attention. He was a mystery. He could be anybody. So maybe moving would be good. I’d be the stranger from a strange land. What girl could resist that?

  Then I arrived.

  First I was excited and nervous when the principal introduced me to Macallan, because she was pretty. Then she made it known within, like, 2.5 seconds that she had no interest in me whatsoever. You could’ve seriously given her a glass of milk and it would’ve been frozen in less than a minute. She was that cold.

  So I figured we’d never talk again and I concentrated on the guys at school. Guys are always way more chill than girls anyway.

  Right before lunch on my first day, I went up to this group of guys, introduced myself, tried to be calm, cool, and collected. But I’m pretty sure I stank of desperation. I was able to tell right away that Keith, this beast of a guy, was the alpha in our grade. He always had a group of three or four other guys around him, and they were all wearing some sort of Wisconsin team T-shirt. Keith had on a Badgers hoodie and jean shorts. He was close to five foot ten and he towered over everybody, including most of the teachers. He wasn’t skinny and he wasn’t fat; he was just big.

  He studied me as I approached him, and said, “What’s your deal?” before I had a chance to introduce myself. I made some small talk and felt like I was on a job interview.

  Then I made a fatal error. I should’ve known better.

  I admitted to being a Chicago Bears fan.

  I’m pretty sure I heard actual hissing.

  I figured whatever, they’d tease me, like guys do. That was what I was expecting, hoping. Because if guys teased you, you were kinda in.

  But after I grabbed my lunch, not one person would look at me when I went to sit down. They were all too busy catching up with each other to notice the new guy standing there by himself. Instead of being this person everybody wanted to know more about, it was like I had leprosy or something. I kept being told that everybody in Wisconsin was so nice, but that wasn’t the feeling I got. It was more like I was an intruder on their turf. I was only halfway through my first day and I was miserable.

  Then Macallan came along.

  She totally saved me from the public humiliation of having to eat alone on my first day of school. From then on, I ate with her and her friends.

  At first I wasn’t sure what to make of Macallan coming over on Wednesdays after school. The second we got to my house, she opened up whatever homework she had and would sit there and study until her dad came and got her. She only lightened up when I put on Buggy and Floyd. After a few Wednesdays, we started talking some more.

  She was pretty cool. Like awesome cool, even though she could sometimes be cold.

  One Wednesday, about a month in, she had to stay longer than usual. Mom came back from the store and said, “Macallan, sweetie, your dad just called me. He’s running late, so you’re going to join us for dinner. Hope you like stir-fry.”

  Macallan studied Mom from our place at the dining room table as Mom went into the kitchen and started unpacking her groceries. I tried to not laugh as Macallan’s face scrunched up. She always did that when she was studying, be it math or my mom. It was pretty adorable.

  “Hey.” I tried to get Macallan’s attention back to me. “Do you wanna play a video game or something?”

  “I want to finish the outline for my English paper.” She started scribbling in her notebook.

  I picked up the tattered book she was reading. “Miss Lulu Bett?” I laughed. “You’re writing your author report on someone who wrote a book called Miss Lulu Bett?”

  Macallan reached her hand out for the book. “Can you please be careful with that? It’s on loan from the library. It’s rare.”

  I presented the book to her with both hands and a slight bow.

  “And for your information, the author, Zona Gale, was born in Wisconsin and was the first woman ever awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. It wouldn’t kill you to learn a little bit about the history of where you now live.”

  “Uh-huh.” That was usually my reply whenever Macallan tried to educate me on pretty much anything. I did okay in school, I got decent enough grades, but I wasn’t the ultimate student like she was.

  She kept her attention on her notebook. “Who are you going to write your report on? Dr. Seuss?”

  “I do like green eggs and ham, Mac I am.”

  She grimaced. “I don’t know why I even bother sometimes.”

  She pretended to get back to work, but I could see the corners of her mouth start to turn.

  I cautiously picked up the book again. “Maybe I should read this. I wonder what kind of bet Miss Lulu placed.”

  Macallan groaned. “Mrs. Rodgers, do you need any help with supper?”

  Mom popped her head into the doorway. “That’s okay. I think I’ve got it covered.”<
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  But Macallan got up and went into the kitchen. “Are you sure?”

  “Well, if you want, you can help me cut up some vegetables.” Mom gave her a smile.

  Great, does this mean I have to help? I thought. Leave it to Macallan to make me look even more like a slacker.

  Mom pulled out some green and red peppers, zucchini, and mushrooms from the grocery bag and handed Macallan the cutting board and a knife. Macallan looked between the knife and vegetables like she was trying to solve a difficult equation. She held the knife to the pepper, first one way, then another.

  At one point she looked up at me, probably hoping for help. Like I had any clue about cooking. I’d almost burned our house down microwaving popcorn the past year. It had smelled like charred popcorn for over a week. I’d been wisely banned from the kitchen ever since.

  “Is there a certain way you want them cut?” she asked Mom.

  Mom opened her mouth and then it was like I saw a lightbulb go on over her head. She went over to Macallan and showed her the different ways to cut everything. Macallan’s green eyes were watching everything like she was gonna be graded on it.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly when they were through. “There isn’t a lot of cooking at my house. Anymore.”

  It was then that I realized why Macallan was enamored with Mom. It was Emily who’d told me about the car accident — Macallan hadn’t really said much about her mom to me. And I had no clue if I should’ve said something to her. Or asked. Like, what do you do in that circumstance?

  Blimey if I knew.

  Even though I was quickly becoming friends with Macallan and her group, I still felt like I needed some dudes in my life.

  “What’s up, California?” Keith came up to me after class in early November. “How’s it hanging, bro?” But he said it like brah. I knew he was making fun of how I talked, but had he never heard himself? Everybody here had these nasally accents and overpronounced their vowels. I found it hilarious. “Saw you running ’round the track at gym. You’re pretty fast.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  I debated bragging to him that I was faster when it wasn’t so cold. Even though the snow from the first snowstorm of the year (which happened before Halloween) had melted, it was still freezing outside.

  Part of me had already written off Keith and his group … and still I felt a little excited as Keith continued. “Yeah, maybe you could join our game sometime. Wide receiver or something. Do they even play football in La-La Land?” He laughed.

  I decided to throw it right back at him. “I don’t know, man. Ever heard of this little thing called the Rose Bowl? Probably not, since the Badgers haven’t won it in years.”

  “Ouch.” But Keith looked impressed.

  I was a little rusty with the guy put-downs. Back in California, my buddies and I would spend hours ragging on each other, our families, the girls we liked. You name it. The bigger the put-down, the bigger the laugh. It was our own art form.

  “Okay, California.” Keith nodded to himself. “I guess I’ll see you around. Don’t let those chicks start braiding your hair or doing your nails. Real men play football.”

  “Yeah, totally.” We did this awkward handshake thing that made me feel even more like a tool. But hey, at least he was talking to me. That was a start.

  I could tell right away that Macallan was not in a good mood after school. Mom had a meeting that was running late, so we had to walk the twenty minutes to my house. She hardly talked to me during the walk and didn’t even want to stop in Riverside Park. We always would stop in the park and goof around whenever we walked to my place. Even if it was cold out. But apparently not that day.

  “Are you okay?” I finally asked her, mostly because the silence was super awkward.

  She was all “Yeah, no … I don’t feel well.”

  I saw her holding her stomach. I hoped she wasn’t going to blow chunks in front of me.

  Once we got home, she sat there. She didn’t talk, she didn’t want to watch TV, she didn’t want anything to eat. She didn’t even crack open a book to study. That’s when I knew things were serious.

  I started playing a couple video games; she silently watched from the couch. “Man, I tell you …” I looked at her and saw that she didn’t look so great. I figured there was only one thing that could put a smile on her face. “Oi!” I called out in my best cockney accent. “You gonna just sit there or you gonna help me deliver … a baby?” Then I pretended to faint. It was classic Buggy.

  She got up suddenly and went to the bathroom.

  This was the problem with being friends with a girl. They could be so complicated. Like, was I supposed to guess what was wrong? Couldn’t she give me a hint?

  After I played a few more games, I realized she had been in the bathroom for an unusually long time. Gross. But what if she’d hit her head on the counter or something? I didn’t want to bother her, but she had said she wasn’t feeling well.

  I approached the bathroom cautiously. “Ah, Macallan?”

  “Go away!”

  “Um, do you need —”

  “I SAID GO AWAY!”

  I was pretty sure she threw something at the door. Or she banged on the door. There was some noise that happened and it was clear she was not happy.

  I didn’t know what to do. My buddies back home never locked themselves in a bathroom.

  Thankfully, Mom arrived home a few minutes later. At first she gave me a questioning look when she saw me staring at the bathroom door.

  “Mom, I don’t know what’s going on. She’s locked herself in there. I think she’s crying. I swear I didn’t do anything.”

  Mom’s eyes got wide. “Go play video games.”

  Mom was always harping on me to stop playing video games. I went back into the living room before she could change her mind.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Mom emerged from the bathroom.

  “What’s —”

  She cut me off. “Listen, you’re not to say anything to Macallan about this, or anybody at school. Do you understand me?” I wasn’t used to her having such a harsh tone with me. “I need you to go to your room —”

  “What?” I protested. “But I didn’t do any —”

  Mom snapped her fingers at me. Great. Now Mom was mad at me.

  She lowered her voice. “I need to have a private conversation with Macallan’s dad when he gets here. Now go to your room and I don’t want to hear another word about this.”

  She folded her arms and I knew I had no choice but to do what she said.

  I went up to my room totally confused. But I did know one thing.

  I would never understand girls.

  Oh, wow.

  What?

  I finally realized what happened that day.

  You’re just figuring this out now?

  Yeah, I guess —

  We’re not having this conversation.

  I can’t believe I didn’t realize you got —

  What part of we’re not having this conversation are you failing to comprehend?

  Do you think I want to talk about this?

  Then why are you talking about this?

  Uh, never mind.

  We better hurry up and discuss something manly to get your dude points back up.

  Yeah. Uh, me like meat.

  Chicks.

  Football.

  Fire.

  Brats.

  Pedicures.

  Okay, you promised you’d never mention that. I had a blister, I was just …

  Excuses, excuses.

  You’re the worst.

  And you love me for it.

  Yes, because I’m a total glutton for punishment. And one hundred percent pure man.

  Stop laughing.

  Seriously, stop laughing.

  Macallan, it’s not that funny.

  “What if I got my hair cut?”

  It was such a simple question Levi asked, but he had no idea what a what-if question did to me. It was a
game I played with myself often. I had been doing it a lot that summer before eighth grade.

  What if I hadn’t been the one to show Levi around on his first day of school?

  What if I hadn’t seen his KEEP CALM AND BLIMEY ON button and opened up a conversation to see what else we had in common?

  What if Uncle Adam had never mentioned Wednesday nights to Levi’s mom?

  What if his mom wasn’t always around when I needed her?

  But that’s the thing with the what-if game — you really can never know the answer to the question. And maybe it’s better that way.

  Because underneath the surface what-ifs are much worse ones.

  What if you hadn’t forgotten your science book that day?

  What if it hadn’t been raining?

  What if the other driver hadn’t been texting?

  What if Mom had paused for even three seconds before leaving that day?

  What if?

  “Ah, Macallan?” Levi waved his hand in front of my face. “What do you think?”

  Levi removed the elastic from his hair and it fell a few inches down his back. “I feel like I need a new start for eighth grade.”

  I shrugged. “Might be nice.”

  “Even a few of my buddies back home have finally cut their hair.”

  Back home.

  I noticed that even though Levi had been here for nearly a year, and his parents had no plans to move back to California, he kept referring to California as “back home.” Like he hadn’t fully been able to accept that this was now his home.

  “So?” Levi asked.

  It was then that I realized that he had walked us to the hair salon at the mall.

  “Right now?”

  He hesitated for a few beats. “Why not?”

  Twenty minutes later, he was seated in a chair, his hair back in its familiar ponytail. The stylist grabbed it and then worked her scissors across. And in a few short seconds, the ponytail came loose.