The Best Friend (3 page)

“I remember,” Trish said sympathetically. “You nearly freaked.”

“We thought you were sick or something,” Lilah added, continuing her sit-ups. “You were really messed up.”

“Yeah,” Becka recalled unhappily. Her green eyes lit up. “But that was last year. This year it will be different, I think. I hope. I mean, Bill has really straightened himself out. He isn't hanging out with
Mickey and Clay anymore. He's got a really good attitude, and—”

Before Becka could finish her sentence, the bedroom door was flung open. Becka dropped her knitting. Lilah sat up straight. Trish leapt to her feet.

All three of them stared in surprise as a girl with a mane of long auburn hair excitedly swept into the room. “Hi!” she shouted, her eyes darting from girl to girl, finally landing on Becka.

“Becka!” the girl cried. Stepping over Lilah, she bent down, threw her arms around Becka, and wrapped her up in a tight hug. “Becka! Becka! I'm so happy to see you!” she squealed.

Her mouth open wide in bewilderment, Becka struggled unsuccessfully to free herself from the girl's hug.

I can't believe it!” the girl cried. “I just can't believe it! Becka, it's you! It's really
you!”

Becka gasped, utterly speechless. Who
is
this girl? she asked herself.

I've never seen her before!

“I
just can't believe it!” the girl cried, finally letting go of Becka and taking a step back. She tugged at her thick auburn hair, tossing it back over her shoulder as she shrugged out of her coat. “I just can't believe I'm here!”

Becka scrambled off the bed and nearly tripped over Lilah, who was climbing to her feet, confusion on her face.

Do I
know
her? Becka asked herself, staring hard at the intruder, studying her face, struggling to call up some memory of her.

Have I ever seen her before?

She was about Becka's size, but with a full figure.

She wasn't exactly pretty. But she was very dramatic looking with her flowing auburn hair down past her shoulders, round, gray eyes, and full lips coated in dark lipstick. She wore a bright orange sweater that clashed with her hair and a green miniskirt over black tights.

Becka couldn't help but notice the girl's hands, which were balled into tight fists at her sides. They were so big. They seemed to be the wrong size, out of proportion for the rest of her.

“The door was open downstairs, so I let myself in. Do you believe I moved right next door?” the girl gushed. “Isn't that the most
amazing
coincidence?”

Who is she? Becka wondered, frantically searching her memory. She saw tears form in the corners of the girl's big gray eyes.

She's so emotional, Becka thought. So excited to see me. So overjoyed. I must know her. I
must.

She turned to Trish for help. But Trish only returned her glance with a wide-eyed shrug. Lilah was staring at the girl too, bewilderment on her face.

Oh, Becka, you look exactly the same!” the girl cried and stepped forward to wrap Becka in another emotional hug.

“So do you,” Becka managed to reply, staring over the girl's shoulder at Lilah, motioning for Lilah to help her.

Hi , I'm Lilah Brewer,” Lilah said when the girl had once again let go of Becka. “I don't think we've met. And this is Trish. Trish Walters,” Lilah said, pointing to Trish who had backed up to the window seat.

“Hi.” Trish gave the girl an awkward smile. Her silver braces gleamed in the light from the window.

The girl turned away from Becka, a startled expression on her face, as if she hadn't realized there were other people in the room. “I remember you two,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes with her big hands. “I'm Honey Perkins.”

Who?
Becka wondered, staring hard at the girl.

Do I know a Honey Perkins?

Is this some kind of a mistake or something?

Honey turned back to Becka, her smile growing wider. I can't believe it. I just can't. Do you believe we're moving in next door? Isn't that amazing?”

“Yeah,” Becka said, trying to work up some enthusiasm. “It's amazing!” “Wow!” Honey exclaimed, staring hard at Becka.

“Wow! I'm sorry, but I'm just speechless.”

“Me too,” Becka replied.

Why can't I remember her? Am I losing my mind?

“Are you going to Shadyside High?” Trish asked from in front of the window.

“Wow,” Honey said, staring at Becka.

Does she have to stare at me like that? Becka thought uncomfortably. It's like I'm a hot fudge sundae she's about to devour!

“Did you used to go to our school, Honey?” Lilah asked.

Honey, her attention glued to Becka, didn't seem to hear the questions of the other two girls. “It's really you,” she said to Becka.

“Yeah. It's me all right,” Becka replied.

I can't take much more of this, Becka thought. Who
is
she and what does she
want?

Wiping more tears from her eyes, Honey finally turned to Lilah and Trish. “Sorry I'm so emotional,” she said, shaking her head. “But Becka and I—You see, we were best best friends in third and fourth grade. And I just can't believe I'm back!”

She lunged forward and wrapped Becka in another hug.

Best best friends? Becka thought.

I don't remember having a best friend named Honey.

My best friend in fourth grade was Deena Martinson.

Grinning at Becka, Honey pushed her thick hair up high on her head with both hands. “This is awesome. It's just awesome!”

Becka sank back onto the edge of her bed. “It sure is.” She motioned for Honey to take the chair in front of her dressing table.

“I'm so excited, I don't know if I can sit down,” Honey said. But she quickly pulled the chair in front of Becka and sat down, crossing her legs, tapping one sneaker on the carpet.

“So where did you move after fourth grade?” Lilah asked, dropping down to the floor, leaning back against Becka's bed and tucking her long legs under her.

Honey didn't seem to hear Lilah. She stared at Becka. “When I heard we were moving to Fear Street, my first thought was, Does Becka still live there? And sure enough, you do. In the very same house.”

“Yeah. My parents love this old house,” Becka said, glancing across the room at Trish.

“That's so great! We're next-door neighbors now!” Honey gushed.

“Where have you been living?” Trish asked.

“It's just my dad and me,” Honey told Becka. “Mom died last year. It's been tough, very hard on both of us. Very hard.”

Is Honey ignoring Trish and Lilah? Becka wondered. Doesn't she hear their questions?

Honey had pulled the chair right up in front of
Becka, as if the other two girls weren't part of the conversation.

“That's one reason I'm so happy you're still here,” Honey continued, beaming at Becka, her enormous gray eyes burning into Becka's. “So it'll be a lot like old times. I mean, so we can be best friends again.”

To her surprise, Becka suddenly found herself feeling guilty. She obviously had been important in Honey's life. Their friendship obviously meant a lot to Honey. But Becka couldn't even remember knowing Honey.

Some friend I am, Becka thought, scolding herself.

What's
wrong
with me, anyway?

Trish said something from the window seat. Honey ignored her again. “You've got to tell me all about yourself,” she told Becka. “We've got so much catching up to do.”

“There isn't much to tell,” Becka replied uncomfortably.

Suddenly Becka's mother poked her head into the bedroom. “How's it going in here?” she asked, her eyes moving from face to face.

“Mrs. Norwood!” Honey shrieked, excitedly leaping up from her chair. She dove across the room and wrapped Becka's mom in an emotional hug.

Mrs. Norwood cast an astonished glance at Becka.

“It's so good to see you again! You look
wonderful!”
Honey cried.

“Well, thanks,” Becka's mom sputtered. “So do you, dear.”

“I moved in right next door!” Honey exclaimed, her arm still around Mrs. Norwood's slender waist. “Isn't that amazing?”
“Yes. I guess it is,” Becka's mom replied uncertainly. “That's really nice.” She made an excuse and quickly retreated from the room.

Honey turned back to Becka. “Your mom is so great. I always thought she was really neat.”

“Yeah. She's okay,” Becka replied.

Mom didn't recognize Honey either, Becka realized. That made Becka feel a little better, a little less guilty.

But not much.

“She looks a lot older,” Honey said, her smile fading. “She shouldn't let her hair go gray. She should color it.”

“She does color it,” Becka replied. “She's been really busy lately, so—”

“I'd like to color my hair,” Lilah said, running a hand through her brown ponytail. “Brown is such a blah color. But my mom said she'd kill me if I did anything to it.”

“At least
your
hair is straight,” Trish complained.

“Oh. I love that pin. What's that pin?” Honey asked, ignoring Trish and Lilah and picking up a pin from Becka's dresser top.

“It's a parrot,” Becka told her, stepping up beside her. “Bill—uh—my old boyfriend, gave it to me because I like birds.”

“You always loved animals,” Honey said, holding the pin up to admire it. “Remember that injured bird we found? You took it home and tried to nurse it back to health? Remember how we cried and cried when the little bird died?”

No, thought Becka. I don't remember.

“Yeah,” she told Honey. “I remember.”

“Can I try it on?” Honey asked, holding it up to her orange sweater. “Is it plastic?”

“No. It's enamel,” Becka told her.

“You were always so stylish,” Honey said, standing in front of the mirror with the pin. “You always knew the latest thing to wear. You always looked so great. I
love
your haircut. It's just so perfect for you.”

“Thanks,” Becka said, glancing at Trish, who was staring out the window.

Honey admired the parrot pin in the mirror, a pleased smile on her face.

“I think it's going to snow again,” Trish said. “Look how dark it's getting.”

“It better not,” Lilah said, standing up and stretching. “We're supposed to drive to my cousin's tonight. The roads are already so slippery.”

“I'll bet we have a white Christmas this year,” Trish said.

“My sweater. I'll never get it finished in time!” Becka complained.

“Why don't you buy one and say that you knitted it?” Lilah suggested.

“It would be too good,” Becka replied.

“Buy a bad one!” Lilah said.

Becka and Trish laughed.

Honey didn't seem to hear the conversation. “I love your room,” she said, her eyes studying the posters above Becka's bed. “It's small, but you've got everything you need. You just have such good taste.”

“Thanks,” Becka replied awkwardly.

“I want my room to be just like this,” Honey said thoughtfully. “I even want the same posters.”

“I'm kind of tired of them,” Becka told her.

“Really? Can I have them?” Honey asked. “I mean, if you don't want them anymore?”

Becka wasn't really ready to pull them down. She had just been making conversation. But now Honey was staring at her intently, eagerly waiting for an answer.

“Yeah. I guess,” she said with a shrug.

“Great! You don't have to take them down now. I'm still unpacking cartons in my room,” Honey told her. “Anyway. I can get them some other time. I'll be seeing you a lot.”

Becka didn't reply. She glanced reluctantly at her posters.

I don't really want to give them away, she realized. I should've told Honey no.

Why did I offer to give them to her?

Honey glanced at the clock on Becka's dresser. “Wow. I've got to get going.” She turned back to Becka, her face revealing deep emotion. “Oh, I hope we can be best friends again!” she cried. “Just like when we were kids.”

She rushed forward and gave Becka another hug. Then she turned and ran out of the room.

Becka, Lilah, and Trish remained silent, listening to Honey's heavy footsteps descend the stairs. When they heard the front door slam, all three of them exploded at once.

“What was
that
all about?” Trish demanded.

“She didn't even notice Trish and I were here!” Lilah exclaimed. “She didn't say goodbye or anything!”

“Who is she?” Becka asked, collapsing onto the floor beside Lilah. “Am I cracking up or what?”

“She's your best friend, Becka,” Lilah said in a mock scolding tone. “How could you forget your best friend?”