Too Much Drama (2 page)

What Billy was describing sounded a lot like the way Brynn had acted earlier.

He kept talking. “I tried several times to explain that all we were doing was trying to help May. I told her why you called me to go TP-ing with you, and that June came along too. I explained that Sophie ended up coming along because it was something she'd never done before.”

“That didn't work?” I asked.

“Nope.” Billy kept talking. “Brynn accused me of waiting until she'd gone out of town to do something with Sophie. She even said you probably planned the whole thing when you found out she was leaving.”

I guess that explained why Brynn thought this was my fault. “Did you tell her that when we finished at Krystal's house all we did was take my sisters out for ice cream?”

“Of course,” said Billy. “But she said Sophie likes me, and I'm clueless to it. She said she always flirts with me. She even accused you of not doing anything to stop it.”

I felt my anger resurfacing.

“She wouldn't stop,” said Billy. “I told her to calm down, but that really set her off, so I hung up. I thought she would cool down and realize how irrational she was being, but she didn't. She called me back and started yelling again.” Billy paused. “I don't know. It was too much, and I snapped. I told Brynn we were over.” Billy let out a breath.

Brynn knows as well as I do how much Billy hates confrontations. I'm sure the whole thing stressed him out. Still, I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Brynn. I know how much she likes Billy. This can't be easy for her.

As Billy kept talking, I tried not to picture Brynn. I could see her, face down on her pale pink comforter, crying into the silk pillow cases her Mom brought her back from Paris when she turned ten. When Billy and I hung up, my instinct was to call her and make sure she was doing OK.

Old habits die hard, but after what happened today, it's time to make some new ones.

9:44 p.m.
Called Leo

When I hung up with Billy, I decided to call Leo, who's older and wiser. I mean, he's only sixteen, but it's not just an age thing. I knew he'd have an interesting perspective.

“Ending a friendship is like a form of death,” he said when I told him what happened. “It's normal to experience a feeling of loss.”

I hadn't thought about it like that. “Do you think it's possible to be mad and sad at the same time?” I asked.

“Why not?” asked Leo.

“Hmm.” I took in what he'd said. Then I paused, thinking about the fact that Leo is leaving in a month to go to college. “It's going to be weird when you're gone,” I said. “What am I going to do if something happens and I want to tell you about it?”

Leo laughed. “The same thing you're doing now. Pick up the phone and call me.”

10:59 p.m.
Reeling

I've never used that word before.
Reeling.
It sounds like it belongs in a bad romance novel or a documentary about fishing. I just can't believe my friendship with Brynn is over. Other than my family, she's been the most important person to me since I was five. It's hard to imagine my life without her in it.

Leo was right. It is kind of like a death.

I keep thinking about what Brynn said earlier—
I'm not the girl I used to be.
But Brynn isn't who she used to be either. I'm not sure when the problems started. She wasn't happy when Billy and I started going out, or when I made the dance team in eighth grade and she didn't, or when I told her I was dating Matt Parker. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe it was something else. But she hasn't been much of a friend to me for a long time, and she's been mean to Sophie from the day she got here last summer. I don't know what to make of it or of the latest development. Should I be mad? Relieved? Resigned?

I think I'm going to have to go with
all of the above.

Little girls are cute and small only to adults. To one another they are not cute. They are life sized.

—Margaret Atwood

Monday, December 1, 9:37 p.m.
Poor May

When May came into my room to “say goodnight,” I knew what she was really doing was giving me the daily wrap-up, which (fortunately) was that she didn't have any problems at school with Krystal Connery. I know she was scared to go today because of what happened with Krystal on Saturday night. I can't blame her for feeling anxious. But here's the bottom line: Krystal deserved what she got.

It started when May kicked the winning goal at the game on Saturday afternoon. Everyone in the stands went crazy screaming and cheering for her. I expected May to be flying high after the game. But she was quiet as we piled into the car and didn't say a word all the way home. It took some coaxing when we got home, but she finally told me what happened.

“After the game, we had a team meeting,” said May. “When it was over, Coach Newton left. Everyone was getting their stuff together, just kind of hanging around and some of the girls told me how awesome I played.”

I was confused. “That's a good thing, isn't it?”

May shook her head from side to side. “That's when Krystal said I look like a boy and should play on the boys' team.”

“It's kind of a compliment that she thinks you're good enough to play with the boys,” I said.

“She said I
look
like one,” said May.

She started to tear up, and my big-sisterly instincts kicked in. Even though May comes off as strong on the outside, she's ultrasensitive, and Krystal has been mean to her since soccer season started. Krystal was the star player until May waltzed in (or I guess I should say, kicked her way in), but that doesn't give her the right to be a bully. “You can't let her do that to you,” I told May.

“What am I going to do?” she asked.

I shook my head. “It's what
we
are going to do.” I got Billy on the phone, told him the problem, and we both agreed it was time for our favorite prank. It had been a long time since we'd done it, and I knew he'd want to help. “We're going to TP Krystal's house, and you're coming with us,” I told May.

“No way!” said May. “What if Krystal sees me?”

“Well you usually don't want the person to see you, but in this case, you do.”

“Why?” May asked.

“You want her to know you did it, so she won't bully you anymore.”

“What if this makes it worse?” May asked.

“It won't.”

May looked skeptical.

“You have to show her she can't mess with you. Trust me?” I asked.

May finally nodded, so Billy and I made a plan to TP Krystal's house that night. When I mentioned to Sophie what we were doing, she said she wanted to come too. “I've never heard of rolling a house in toilet paper,” she said. “No one did that in Paris or New York. Although maybe that's because most people live in tall buildings that would be hard to cover.”

“You don't actually cover the house.” I tried to explain to Sophie the process of how you throw the toilet paper up and over trees and bushes. She said it didn't make sense, but she was excited to see it.

So Saturday night, Sophie and Billy came over, and we planned to take May to Krystal's house as soon as it got dark. But as we were filling my backpack full of rolls of toilet paper, June came into my room. “Where are y'all going? What's that toilet paper for?” she asked.

May shot me a look like she didn't want June to be part of this, but it gave me a great idea. “We're going to have to say something to Mom and Dad about where we're going,” I said to May. “If we take June, we can tell them we're all going for ice cream.” I shrugged. “It's what we're planning to do anyway after we're done at Krystal's.”

June eyed the rolls of toilet paper. “Whatever you're doing, I want to go,” she said. She looked excited.

May crossed her arms across her chest. “I wouldn't have gotten to do something like this when I was her age.”

“Beauty of being the youngest,” said June like it was already decided she was coming along, which I guess it was. I was pretty sure Mom and Dad wouldn't approve of me teaching my little sisters how to roll a house, but they'd be happy I was taking them both for ice cream.

So we all left for Krystal's house. When we got there, Billy and I showed Sophie, May, and June how to throw the rolls up high over the branches of trees so that the toilet paper would hang down on both sides. Sophie tried throwing a roll up into a tree a few times but gave up because she wasn't very good at it. Neither was June. May, on the other hand, was great.

“You're a natural!” said Billy.

Even though I know May was scared out of her mind, it was easy to see she was as proud of her rolling skills as she is her soccer skills.

Normally when we roll a house, Billy and I wear all black and don't say a word. But since the whole point was that we wanted Krystal to hear us, we were laughing and talking as we rolled.

“What if Krystal's parents come outside and we get in trouble?” asked May.

“When Krystal hears the commotion, trust me, she'll be the first one out of her house,” I said. I knew there was a chance that might not happen, but fortunately, it did.

Krystal came outside a few minutes after we started. “I see you!” she said.

May started to panic. “C'mon!” she said. “Let's go!”

But I motioned for May to follow Billy and me. Sophie and June came too. We walked, with May in tow, right up to where Krystal was standing on her front porch. Billy was the self-appointed spokesperson. “Was there a problem on the soccer field today?” he asked, looping an arm around May.

Krystal looked slightly horrified, like she might vomit. “I don't know what you're talking about it.” But clearly, she knew exactly what Billy was talking about.

Billy gave Krystal his best fake politician smile (which is very good). “I heard there was a problem,” he said gesturing to May. “And I want to make sure there won't be anymore. Understand?”

Krystal nodded.

“Great!” said Billy. Then he handed Krystal a half-used roll of toilet paper, and we left. As May, June, Sophie, Billy, and I walked to the Cold Shack for ice cream, we were all in good moods.

“You sounded like a mobster,” said Sophie.

We were all laughing as Sophie imitated the way he'd talked to Krystal. When we got home, May came into my room and thanked me. I was happy having done something to help my sister. I think Billy and Sophie were too. I can't help but think that it's really sad and pretty stupid that what started with a backpack full of toilet paper and a desire to help May led to all the problems with Brynn.

10:32 p.m.
Thinking about Brynn

I didn't know what would happen at school today, after my “breakup” with Brynn yesterday. The good news is that not much did.

I saw Brynn, dressed in black, looking morose, but she didn't look at me. In fact, she looked everywhere but at me. I was worried all day that it would be awkward when we got to dance practice. I guess I should be grateful to Ms. Baumann, who by chance put us in different groups.

I don't know why, but I keep thinking about the play kitchen Brynn had in her room when she was little. I can still picture it perfectly. It was light pink and yellow, and it had an oven, stove, refrigerator, and cabinet all built in. I thought it was beautiful.

When we were in kindergarten and first grade, we'd make pretend tea parties with all the little dishes and plastic foods. As we got older, we'd play restaurant and make up menus and elaborate dishes. We named our restaurant Choco-Cherry. I never liked the name, but Brynn said we were at her house, so she got to pick it.

Brynn also got to decide which dishes and foods we would use and what we would put on the menus we made. I remember telling her one day that I wanted to decide what we would serve, and she told me that's not how the game was played. I went along with what she wanted, and we kept playing.

I'm sure I thought it was no big deal then, but Brynn was always the one in charge. This sounds very high school English class, but I think it's a metaphor for the demise of our friendship. It worked as long as I played by Brynn's rules.

I guess it has just taken me a very long time to come to that realization.

10:47 p.m.
Text with Sophie

Sophie: Can I wear the sweatshirt you left at Gaga's?

Me: Why would you want to?

Sophie: I love it.

Me: It looks like a dishrag.

Sophie: I'm wearing it inside out.

Me: Sounds worse than right-side out.

Sophie: It's super cute!

Me: You can have it.

Sophie: You'll want it back.

Me: It's yours.

Sophie: It has your name in it.

Sophie: Literally. Camp name tag I think.

Me:

Sophie: