Read My Last Best Friend Online

Authors: Julie Bowe

My Last Best Friend (2 page)

BOOK: My Last Best Friend
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"Did you move here because your parents got new jobs?" Brooke asks Stacey.

"Not exactly," Stacey says. "They, um ... are news reporters. So they have to travel a lot to interview important people like, um ... presidents ... and kings ... and queens, even," Stacey says.

Jenna lifts her chin. "My mother
is
a president," she brags.

"Not of a
country
," Brooke says. "Just the PTA."

Jenna gives Brooke a look. But Brooke is too
busy staring at Stacey to notice. "I would love to meet a real queen," Brooke says.

Stacey clears her throat. "Well, I have. Twice. In fact, I'm pen pals with the queen of England."

"No way!" Brooke cries.

Stacey nods and fidgets a little.

Jenna's jaw tightens like she's sucking on a screw. "Well, if you and the queen of England are so
chummy,
" she says, "why aren't you staying with her while your parents are away?"

Stacey fidgets some more. "Because my parents made arrangements with my, um ... aunt," Stacey says. Then she adds, "My
rich
aunt."

"Wow," Brooke says, her eyes expanding to the size of silver dollars. "It must be great to live with a rich aunt."

"Oh, it is," Stacey says. "Aunt Tootie redecorated one whole floor of her house just for me. I even have my own TV and computer in my bedroom."

"That's nothing," Jenna snorts. "I've had my own TV and computer since I was two."

"How about your own hot tub?" Stacey asks.

Jenna clamps her mouth shut. Brooke looks like she wants Stacey's autograph.

"How long do you get to live with your aunt?" Brooke asks.

I lean in, waiting for Stacey's answer. As I do, Stacey glances at me and smiles.

I do not smile back. I just pretend to be studying the classroom rules Mr. Crow is writing on the board while keeping one ear tuned into Stacey.

Stacey looks back at Brooke and Jenna. "Um ... I get to live with my aunt until my parents are done traveling. Which will be a long time," she says.

"You must miss them while they're gone," Brooke says to Stacey.

"Yeah, I do," Stacey says, without fidgeting at all.

The bell rings and Mr. Crow starts taking attendance. I think about everything Stacey told Brooke and Jenna.

The more I think about it, the more I wonder if she was lying. That's because I saw her get dropped off at school this morning and she wasn't riding in any limousine. It was an old rusty van. And the woman driving the van did not look like a rich aunt. She looked more like a grandmother with pink curlers in her hair. Rich aunts never
wear pink curlers in their hair. At least not in public. Plus, she kissed Stacey good-bye before she drove away. And Stacey even let her. Only grandmothers are allowed to kiss you in public past the second grade.

So that's why I'm sure Stacey isn't telling the truth.

But why would she lie?

Chapter 3

By the time Mr. Crow finishes taking attendance, and going over the classroom rules, and passing out our new books, it's time for our first recess. When everyone starts running outside, I realize I don't have Elizabeth to run outside with. Most of the boys head to the soccer field. Brooke is giggling with two other girls, Meeka and Jolene. Randi is playing basketball with Rusty and Quinn. Jenna grabs the last two swings: one for her and one for Stacey. That leaves me with nothing to do and no one to do it with. So I just wander around the playground by myself, pretending to be very interested in kicking rocks.

When we get back inside, it's time for silent reading, which, luckily, doesn't require any friends at all.

When it's time for lunch, Jenna grabs Stacey by the arm and starts dragging her off to the lunchroom. But Stacey glances at me and stops.

"What about Ida?" she says to Jenna.

"What about her?" Jenna replies.

Stacey turns to me. "Do you want to eat lunch with us, Ida?" she asks.

Even though I wish it was Elizabeth inviting me to lunch, it's a relief not to have to eat alone.

I nod.

Stacey smiles.

Jenna rolls her eyes. Then she links arms with Stacey and heads down the hall. I follow along.

When we get to the lunchroom, Jenna informs us that she has a cold lunch—bean sprouts on a whole wheat bagel, baby carrots, soy milk, and for dessert (yum-yum) carob brownies. So while she and her lunch go looking for a table, Stacey and I get in line for our UFOs (Unappetizing Food Options).

"Is the food any good?" Stacey asks.

"It's okay," I say. "If you don't mind food poisoning."

Stacey smiles her big crayon smile right at me.

"The food at my last school was so bad even the cook brought her own lunch."

"Oh, yeah?" I say. "Where
was
your last school?"

"Oh, not far," Stacey says, her voice trailing off. "Actually, technically, my last school was in my house. My parents wanted to spend more time with me, so they homeschooled me for awhile."

"But I thought I heard you say that your parents are always traveling because of their important jobs?"

"Oh, d-did I?" Stacey stammers.
Stammering
is what you call it when your mouth moves faster than your brain. "Well, they usually take me along when they travel, so they taught me while we were ... um ... on the road."

I nod like I believe her, but I raise one eyebrow like I don't.

"So, what do you like to do, Ida?" Stacey asks, like she's trying to change the subject or something.

"Oh, you know," I say. "The usual. I like getting up in the morning. Going to school. Going home. Going to bed. Stuff like that."

I am trying to sound as uninteresting as possible, but Stacey gives me a friendly laugh, anyway. "You're funny, Ida."

This conversation is going from bad to worse. Thankfully, the line moves forward and it's our turn to examine today's UFOs: turkey tetrazzini, buttermilk biscuits, and green beans.

"What'll it be, girls?" Mrs. Kemp asks, in her grumpy school-cook voice. Her pea-sized eyes blink at us over the thick rims of her steamy glasses.

Stacey and I look at the globs of turkey and noodles floating in gravy. We look at the rock-hard biscuits. We look at the soggy beans. Then we look at each other.

"Well?" Mrs. Kemp says. "Do you want hot lunch or not?"

Stacey and I gulp. Then we nod.

We get our food and Jenna waves Stacey over to a table where she is sitting with Brooke, Meeka, and Jolene. Stacey takes the seat across from Brooke. I sit next to Jenna.

"You're going to eat
that?
" Jenna says, wrinkling up her nose at my lunch. "
Disgusting
," she says, looking at me. Then she looks at Stacey and
smiles. "Be sure to bring a cold lunch tomorrow, Stacey. Then you can swap desserts with us." Jenna gives a glance to Brooke, Meeka, and Jolene.

"We swap lots of stuff," Brooke says. "Earrings, bracelets, shoes..."

"That's right," Jenna interrupts. "This necklace is Meeka's and this bracelet is Jolene's," she says, pointing at her neck and wrist. "Bring something to swap tomorrow."

"Su-ure," Stacey says. "I'll ask my gr—...my
aunt
if it's okay."

"Of course it's okay," Jenna says. "We do it all the time."

I scoop up some turkey tetrazzini on my fork and think about last summer when Elizabeth and I swapped flip-flops. We never got around to swapping them back before she moved away.

I'm right in the middle of remembering how much fun we had gluing pom-poms and plastic lobsters onto those flip-flops when I notice Jenna is glaring at me again.

"Wha?" I say through my turkey tetrazzini.

"You know what's
in
that turkey, don't you?" Jenna says back.

"Um, no," I say, swallowing. "I didn't realize there would be a quiz."

Jenna just shakes her head. "Horbones," she announces to the other girls. "Lots and lots of horbones."

"What's that?" Stacey asks, poking suspiciously at the food on her tray.

"That's the stuff that makes turkeys so
fat,
" Jenna says, giving me a glance. Then she starts to explain how
my
turkey spent its whole life inside a crowded pen eating horbones day and night with all the other unfortunate birds.

Three minutes into Jenna's lecture, I'm wishing I had warned Stacey not to show any interest in anything Jenna has to say. But then, I'm trying not to say much of anything at all to Stacey Merriweather.

I tune out Jenna's yakking, nibble on my rock-hard biscuit, and get a better look at Stacey.

She has pretty eyes and pretty, evenly spaced teeth. And pierced ears. Her hair smells the same way my mom's hair does after she gets a perm. I can't imagine having any friends if
I
smelled like that. Not that smelling the way I do has gotten me lots of friends. It hasn't.
Oh sure, I've had the regular kind of friends. The kind you wander around the playground with, making up excuses together for why you don't want to join the dodgeball game, when really you just don't want to look stupid when the red rubber ball smacks you in the face.

But that was before I met Elizabeth. She was the kind of friend who made it worth getting up and going to school every day just so I could sit by her on the bus and play with her at recess. The kind who told me secret things she never told anyone else. The kind of friend I never thought about having to say good-bye to until she all of a sudden decided to move away.

As I sit and watch Stacey listen to Jenna's description of her family's summer camping trip ("We had to brush our teeth with baking soda and pee in a hole. It was great!"), I think about Elizabeth and wonder if she's eating lunch at that exact same time, too. I wonder if she's as happy in her new school as Stacey Merriweather seems to be in hers. I want to say,
Excuse me, Stacey Merriweather, but don't you miss your old best friend at all?

But before I have a chance to say anything, I see it. A spitball. Right in the middle of my turkey tetrazzini.

I look up and see another one fly. This time it sticks in Stacey's curly hair.

I look around the lunchroom. Two tables away, Rusty Smith and two other fourth-grade boys, both named Dylan, are cracking up. A shredded napkin lies in front of Rusty. A straw is in his hand. I look at Stacey again. She's still eating and listening to Jenna talk, but I can tell by the way her eyes stop sparkling that she knows she's being used for target practice.

Then I see Rusty take aim again. And again.

After six direct hits, Stacey sets down her fork and quietly says, "Excuse me, ladies." She walks over to Rusty. He's so busy laughing with the Dylans that he doesn't notice Stacey putting her hand on his bony shoulder.

But he starts paying attention when she smiles at him and says in a sticky sweet voice, "You
like
me, don't you?"

Everyone within earshot turns and looks.

Rusty looks, too. "Huh?"

"You
do!
" Stacey squeals. "You
like me!
" Then
she puts her arm around him and practically sits on his lap.

Now everyone in the whole lunchroom is turning and looking.

Rusty peels Stacey's arm off his shoulder like it's a poisonous snake. Stacey puts it back. Everyone laughs. Then the Dylans start singing "Rusty li-ikes Staa-cey ... Rusty li-ikes Staa-cey..."

Stacey smiles and scoots even closer to him.

By the third round of the song, the lunchroom sounds like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. And Rusty's ears look as red as his hair. He wiggles out from under Stacey and bolts out the door.

I sit there, staring at Stacey Merriweather and wondering how a person with six spitballs stuck in her hair can do something like that.

Then Stacey gets up and walks back to our table. She sits down, picks up her fork, and finishes every last bite of her lunch.

Chapter 4

When I get home after school my mom is waiting for me in the kitchen with a plate of cookies. And a million questions.

"Do you like your new teacher?" she asks.

"He's okay," I say.

"What's he like?"

"Oh, you know. Nice."

"How about the kids in your class. Are they nice, too?" she asks.

I think for a moment. "Most of them," I say.

My mom looks pleased. "Who did you play with at recess?"

"Um ... I ate lunch with Jenna."

"Well, that's good," she says. "But who did you play—"

Before my mom can finish her question I grab
three cookies off the plate and say, "Don't you have a student coming soon?" My mom teaches piano lessons in our living room.

My mom sighs and glances at her watch. "You're right. I have a piano lesson scheduled in a few minutes. We'll talk more about your day at supper, okay?"

I just nod and head to my room. A few minutes later the cookies are gone and some kid is plunking "If You're Happy and You Know It" on the piano.

I get up and shut my door. Tight.

When supper rolls around, I'm ready. As soon as my parents start asking me about my day, I stuff mashed potatoes into my mouth so all I can answer is "Mmm-hmm" or "Hmm-mmm."

The second I'm done with my third helping of potatoes, I ask to be excused.

"Are you sure?" my dad says. "I brought home chocolate ice cream for dessert."

Even though it's hard for me to turn down chocolate anything, I say, "I'm sure," and head to my room for the night.

***

When I get to school the next day it's apparent that standing up to Rusty Smith gets you magnetized or something. That's because fourth-grade girls are sticking to Stacey Merriweather like little bits of metal to a big shiny magnet. Jenna, Brooke, Meeka, and Jolene brush right past me as I walk down the hallway. They rush up to Stacey. Even Randi Peterson is taking a break from basketball to stick to her.

I stop and watch as they crowd together. Jenna is giving something to each girl. Probably money so they will keep pretending to be her friends. They are all chattering like chipmunks. Stacey is busy chattering, too. I bet she's telling them a bunch of new lies she made up overnight.

The only person drawing a bigger crowd than Stacey
Magnet
weather is Zane Howard. He's at the other end of the hall squeezing his neck until his face turns purple.

BOOK: My Last Best Friend
6.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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