A Tale of Two Besties (31 page)

I wish I could say everything went back to normal after my fourteenth birthday, that Lily transferred to Beverly Hills High and Tim fell in love with me and Jessica left her Nutella-scented lifestyle in France and flew home to be with Stephanie. That we all lived happily ever after. But, spoiler alert: Life never works out like that.

Tim was still icing me out in an intense way. He had switched seats with Josh Davis in history and took the bus home, and whenever I passed him in the hallway, he shoved on his Beats and ducked into the closest bathroom. When I wasn't watching him run away from me, I was catching him fake-laughing with some Kendall-y girl near his locker, refusing to meet my gaze or answer any of my subsequent texts.

But at least some things work out. Just like Lily promised, I did get a do-over for my birthday: a brand-new, supersized PuppyBash do-over the Friday after we made up, which Lily helped me plan and everything. And I have to say, it was one for the books—and not only because Lily had arranged the best surprise ever: She'd managed to pull some strings with both the Jacobys and my parents and get me permission to be a foster mom for the most adorable three-legged pug for one week while Mom was away on business! Don't tell anyone but I'm secretly planning on never giving that little puppy back. . . .

Lily also had another big plan for the party: She was going to apologize to Beth-Lynne. She asked me to talk to the Jacobys beforehand to make sure Beth-Lynne would be there. It actually took a lot of convincing—Beth-Lynne was still pretty upset and her parents were a little worried about forcing her to be at the same party as Lily, who they now thought of as this big Nicole-level bully—but I set them straight, and they agreed to bring her.

So, all in all it was a successful birthday re-do . . . except for the fact that a certain nerdy, comic-drawing someone whom I've known all my life ignored all my calls and invitations and didn't show up.

Then, on Saturday night, I agreed to see Lily's band play at Art Rebel. I had no idea what to expect, and though I didn't tell Lily, I was secretly kind of dreading it a little bit. The last time I'd been to Art Rebel was my birthday, which had been an epic disaster to end all epic disasters, so it's not like I had great associations with the place. But Lily had been on my case all week about going, and it was kind of hard to say no to her, especially when she'd done so much for me the past few days. Like listen to me cry about the Derek fiasco, and even a little bit about how I was worried that I'd irreparably hurt Tim, who, despite my constant attempts, refused to accept my apology. I'd finally admitted to myself that he was the guy I liked, the one I had liked all along. I had just been too confused and scared about hurting Lily's feelings—and still kind of was, to be honest—to realize that I'd been falling for him ever since school started.

“Hey, you made it!” a voice called from across the floor.

Lily was unmistakable even amidst the mish-mash of people stuffed into the room. She had on a lace baby-doll gown in teacup blue and white tights—not leggings—that fit into her soft, embroidered pink booties. Her hair was up in two big buns on the side of her head, which she held in place with two blue strings of ribbon. But most important . . .

“You're not wearing your wings!” I shouted, trying to make myself heard above the din.

“Nope!” Lily wrapped me in a giant hug and then began dragging me by the hand to the stage. “Come on, let's get you settled in the front row so you can see everything! And you can come say hi to Jane and Drew before we go on!”

“Oh, Lily, I just got here,” I said, eyeing the closest exists. I did like Jane and Drew, but the last time Lily tried to mix me in with her new friends, it hadn't gone so well.

Lily deposited me at the front of the stage where Drew was working the mic. He was wearing an odd-fitting suit in dark material and no socks.

“Hey Drew!” Lily said happily. “You remember Harper, right?”

“Oh, totally,” he said. “Thanks for coming!”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” I said. I was so distracted trying to figure out what was weird about his suit that I couldn't help myself from staring.

“Black tie,” he said, forcing me to look up from his pants to his face.

“Sorry?”

“My suit,” he said. “It's black ties. Get it?”

Oh! Another necktie suit. Clever. He was wearing this one with tweed slippers, like the kind you'd wear at home, but boy did they look comfy.

“Ha! That's really cute!” I said. “Did you make it yourself?”

“Drew makes all his clothing himself with a sewing machine,” Lily chirped proudly, then looked over my shoulder. “Hey, Stephanie! Hey, Jane!”

“Hey guys,” Stephanie said, squeezing through the crowd along with Jane, who had a fancy camera hung around her neck. Seeing our reactions, Stephanie made a face and looked down at her outfit. “Before you say anything, I
know
.”

“I love it!” I squealed, clapping my hands. Stephanie, the ballerina-twin-turned-skateboarder, was now standing in front of me wearing the most adorable shift dress I'd ever seen. It was white and starched, and had little blue anchors that almost matched her galumphing white snow boots. Her blond hair, usually shoved into a beanie, was today done up in elaborate French maid braids.

“Don't say it, I'm begging you,” Stephanie said.

“Don't say what?”

“That I look like Swiss Miss.” She stuck her thumb out at Jane, who seemed oblivious to our conversation as she snapped photos of the life-size American Girl doll that Stephanie had become. “Jane made me wear this get-up.”

“I told you, once your friend Jessica sees these photos of you, she'll be begging her parents to switch her out of that ski school,” Jane said. Apparently after meeting Stephanie at her house, Jane had decided she'd found her new F³ muse, and the two of them had been taking photos after school almost every day this week.

“Can you believe she almost didn't let me dress her for the show?” Jane rolled her eyes conspiratorially. Even though she was dressed like a slinky cat goddess otherwise, Jane had on a pair of suede chestnut moccasins that looked vaguely familiar.

“Lily, Jane! We're about to go on! I need my other Judies!” Drew plugged in the microphone, and Lily gulped and nodded. Jane stopped taking photos and joined Drew backstage for a final sound check.

“Are you scared?” I asked Lily, peering into my friend's eyes and putting my hands on her shoulders. “Nauseous? Headachey? Do you need Tylenol? A pre–rock show nap?”

Lily laughed and put her hands on top of mine. “I'm fine,” she said. “Promise. After enduring the first month of high school, how hard could it be to get up and sing in front of hundreds of people? Plus,” she added slyly, pulling out something from underneath the front of her dress, “I have my good luck charm.” She opened up her hand to reveal her half of the BFF necklace.

“Yay, me too!” I said, hugging my best friend. “I'm so excited for you! You're going to be a singer! My little Lily is all grown up!”

“A real adult lady singer!” Lily exclaimed in a nasally voice. “Why, I never! Next thing you know, we'll be getting the vote.”

A sound like a loud train whistle screaming through a long tunnel blew from the stage.

“Okay, that's my cue.” Lily looked pale but brave. “I love you so much, Harper. Wish me luck!”

“You don't need luck,” I said. “You've got talent. And magic!”

Lily wrapped me in the biggest hug ever before bounding up to the stage. “Welcome, everyone!” she called into the microphone. “My name is Lily Farson. This is Jane Cooley and Drew Sawyer, and we're the Jug Judies! But before we get started tonight, I just wanted to say hi to one awesome girl in the audience tonight. Beth-Lynne, are you out there?”

There was a murmur from the center of the room, and suddenly a blushing, mortified Beth-Lynne stood completely still, like maybe we'd go away if she didn't move, the way it worked in
Jurassic Park
.

“Now, Beth-Lynne, I said some pretty mean things about your shoes last time I saw you, but I want you to know . . . that's not me.” Lily was on the verge of tears, and the audio feedback whined. “I need to let you know . . . I would never judge someone by how they express themselves, because I know what that feels like. Well, actually, they say you can't know what it's like till you walk a mile in someone's shoes, so for tonight, my friends and I have tried that out.”

No . . . she couldn't have! Suddenly Steph and Jane and Drew and Lily's footwear all made sense . . . they were all wearing different kinds of Uggs in solidarity.

“You know what? These are pretty freakin' comfortable!” Lily shouted. “Beth-Lynne, do you maybe wanna come up onstage and help us sing?”

Beth-Lynne, a big smile on her broad face, couldn't rush to the front of the room fast enough, to where Lily was waiting with outstretched arms. Lily grabbed Beth-Lynne with one arm and then launched into Nancy Sinatra's “These Boots Were Made for Walking” with her other hand on the mic.

Lily looked amazing up there, the bright lights creating a sparkly, fairylike halo around her face. I clapped and whistled as loud as I could, and Lily winked at me. I winked back, and watched her face turn from smiley-happy to surprised-excited as her gaze moved from mine to a spot just beyond me. I started to turn around to see what she was reacting to, but before I could—

“Hey, Harper.”

I turned. Time stopped. I know, I know, that's a cliché, but wow, how else do you express that thing where it's like you're watching a movie of your own life, and suddenly the camera just zooms in on that crucial detail that you otherwise would have missed?

“Tim,” I said, not even sure if my voice was working, let alone whether I was even moving my mouth. There he was, in a white V-neck and jeans and totally perfect in every way. “You're here.”

“Looks that way.” He still didn't look happy, but at least he was talking to me. “Let me guess, Lily told you to wait by the stage.”

“No . . .” I said, confused, but then I remembered how she had just dragged me up to the front. “Oh, maybe. You?”

“Yeah.” He pinched the back of his neck and shook his head. “I should have known she'd meant for me to run into you.” He looked up. “I guess, I deserve it, after playing match-maker with you two.”

“Oh.” From about a million miles away, I heard Lily's voice over a cacophony of cheers, jug xylophones, and ukulele strums. I didn't know what to say. “I don't know what to say,” I said.

Tim smiled wryly, showing off one of his dimples. “Dog got your tongue?” I groaned, and rolled my eyes at his lame pun. Some of the tension seeped out of my body, and I could see that Tim was relaxing a bit, too.

“I want you to know, that whole Derek kiss was nothing!” I strained my voice to be heard above the crowd. “I think he's totally gross, but like, pathetic, too! I just felt bad for him. He reminds me of how I used to think about you!”

Tim snorted, his hands folded across his chest.

“Not that I think you're gross or pathetic!” I babbled. “I mean, maybe before, when we were growing up! But come on, you were like my little brother! And now, you're like . . . someone I don't want to be related to, because that would be gross in a completely different way!”

If there was a bubble caption above Tim's head like in one of his comics, it would have read:

“I guess I just wanted to say that . . . I missed you!”

Tim cocked his head to one side, straining to hear. “You what?”

“I
missed
you!” I shouted.

“Did you say you
WRIST
me?” He cupped a hand over his ear as the music rose in a crescendo.

“I MISSED YOU!” I screamed, jumping up and down. “I MISSED YOU! I MISSED YOU! I MISSED YOU!”