My Forever Friends (2 page)

Jenna scoops cake and ice cream into her mouth. She chews it slowly while Brooke waits for an answer.

“I'm more of a guest than you are,” Jenna finally replies. “This party is for
my
mother. You should be in the kitchen helping
your
mother cut the cake.” She slips another forkful in.

Brooke does a big huff, brushes pine needles off the bench, and plops down at the opposite end. Stacey and Rachel sit across from her. I sit between Brooke and Jenna.

“It's so unfair,” Stacey says, eating her cake and ice cream. “All those presents! And the baby doesn't even know she's getting them!”

“Agreed,” Brooke says. “She shouldn't get any presents until she's old enough to appreciate them. Like me.” She does a sweet smile.

“They're not really for the baby,” Jenna says. “They're for my mother. And we don't know if it's a girl yet, so you shouldn't call it a
she
.”

“Let's hope it's a girl and not some disgusting boy,” Brooke grumbles. She looks at all of us.

“Have you
seen
Rusty's fingernails lately? Ugh. I swear he's still got third-grade dirt under them.”

Rusty is one of the boys in our class. Quinn, Dominic, Joey, Zane, Tom, and the Dylans are the others. Most of them have dirt collections.

“Not to mention Joey Carpenter.” Brooke shudders. “Talk about dis
gust
ing. He's constantly licking his fingers and touching his eyeballs.” She licks frosting from her glossy lips and stabs her cake. “Now he's got Rusty doing it too. Can you imagine? I can. It's my life. I can't believe Mr. Crow stuck me in a
friendless
circle with those two apes.”

A few weeks ago, Mr. Crow rearranged our desks into four clusters he calls
friendship circles.
But Brooke calls hers a
friendless
circle because she got stuck with only boys—Rusty and Joey. She even made them
friendless
bracelets on the day we were supposed to make friendship bracelets for each other. Mr. Crow gave us embroidery thread and beads to use, but Brooke dug broken rubber bands and twisty ties and fuzzy Life Savers out of her desk and made bracelets for Rusty and Joey out of that stuff instead.

She meant for Rusty and Joey to hate them, but instead they
loved
them. Or at least they pretended to. They showed the bracelets to everyone and argued over who Brooke loved more and which of them she was going to marry and how many children they would have.

When the news got back to Brooke, she ran straight to the girls' bathroom and splashed cold water on her face to keep from throwing up.

Rusty and Joey wore the friendless bracelets until the twisty ties gave out. Then they ate the fuzzy Life Savers. But they still haven't given up on Brooke.

“My baby won't be disgusting,” Rachel says, “even if it is a boy.” She looks at her sister. “Right, Jen?”

Jenna huffs. “It's not up to you, Rachel. People are disgusting whether you want them to be or not.”

Rachel ducks her head. “I
wish
it would be a boy,” she mumbles, stirring her ice cream and cake into a muddy puddle. “I got enough sisters.”

Jenna gives Rachel a squint. Then she looks up suddenly and tilts her head toward the house. “Hmm,” she says, pretending to listen. “I think I hear Mom calling for you, Rachel.”

“Really?” Rachel says, listening too.

Jenna cups her hand to her ear. “Something about . . . more cake.”

Rachel's face brightens. “Maybe the baby doesn't want his!” She scrambles up from her bench and scampers toward the house. Then she stops and looks back at us. “You guys stay put 'til I get back!” she shouts.

Jenna puffs her lips as we watch Rachel disappear into the house. “She's such a boss,” she says. “But at least she fell for it. Come on. Time to go.”

“Go where?” Stacey asks.

“To the park,” Jenna replies.

“Ew,” Brooke says. “Grass. Trees. Bugs. Dis
gusting
.”

“What about Rachel?” I ask.

“Fourth graders only,” Jenna says. “And their dogs.”

Jenna disappears into her garage while I pile up the paper plates and cups and toss them into a garbage can by the back door. A moment later Jenna returns with her little dog, Biscuit, yipping and pulling on the end of his leash.

I follow everyone down a path that goes through the woods behind Jenna's house. I've walked it with Jenna a bunch of times because it's a shortcut between our neighborhood and the Purdee Town Park.

“Stay on the path,” Jenna reminds us. “Or this place will eat you alive.”

Jenna is a big fan of walking around in nature, as long as nature doesn't walk around, on, or near her. Ticks. Spiders. Poison ivy. Hungry bears. She's always reminding us to stay on the path or suffer the consequences.

Secretly, I think if I had a little woods behind my house I would wander around in it all the time. I would pack my sketchbook and Choco Chunks and my sock monkey, George. George could climb a tree and keep a lookout for bears while I sit underneath and draw pictures. I would just be sure to wear bug spray and long pants. And try not to smell like honey.

Jenna's leading the way, but halfway through the woods, Biscuit stops and sniffs at a crooked path that veers off from the main path to the park.

“Where does that trail go?” Stacey asks.

Brooke is about to answer when Jenna yanks Biscuit's leash, nearly pushing Brooke over. Accidentally on purpose.

“It goes
nowhere,
” Jenna snaps. “Right, Brooke?”

Brooke catches her balance, huffs, and punches her fists into her hips. “Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?”

Jenna turns back to Brooke. “My mother is too busy being president of the PTA and chairperson of the school auction
and
carnival to teach me anything. This will be the best fund-raiser our school has ever had because she's in charge of it.”

“Give it up, Jenna,” Brooke grumbles, pushing past me and pulling Stacey along. “Your mom isn't a superhero. She can't do everything and still sit around the house, waiting for the baby to be born.”

Brooke and Stacey prance down the main path toward the park.

Jenna tugs Biscuit, following after them.

I wait until Brooke's sparkly headband and Stacey's dark curls and Jenna's bobbing braids disappear behind the trees.

Then I turn and squint down the crooked path.

“It must go somewhere,” I say to myself, “or there wouldn't be a path.”

I take a step and squint harder, but I can't see very far because of all the trees.

“C'mon, Ida!” I hear Jenna shout from far away.

I turn back toward the main path, but I stop again when a breeze catches my bangs and a tiny sound catches my ears.

Something clinky is down that path.

Something rattly.

Like finger bones. Ones that are still wearing rings.

A moment later the breeze is gone and so is the sound.

But it stays inside my head. Right next to the idea that Jenna has a secret at the end of that crooked path.

A secret that Brooke knows about.

“Ida!” Jenna calls again.

I hurry to catch up.

 

 

Everyone is ready to leave when we get back to Jenna's house. I help my mom load up the punch bowl and cake containers, and wave good-bye to Jenna and Rachel.

“There's something I need to ask you,” Mom says as we drive home.

I flick my sparkly earlobes. “I'm all ears,” I reply, and do a clever smile.

Mom glances at me. “Mrs. Drews needs extra rest until the baby's born, so she's wondering if Jenna and Rachel can come to our house more often.”

I stop flicking. “How often?”

“After school for starters. Weekends if Mr. Drews can find some extra work.” Mom glances at me again. “Is that okay with you?”

If Mom had asked me that question a year ago I would have said
“No way.”
Jenna used to be supermean to me until I finally stood up to her. Then things got better. Not perfect, but better.

“Will it help the baby?” I ask.

Mom nods. “It's a complicated pregnancy, so it's important that Mrs. Drews can rest as much as possible. She even asked Brooke's mom to take over as chairperson of the school auction and carnival.”

My chin drops. “
Brooke's
mom is in charge now?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Mom says. “Why? Is that bad?”

I close my mouth and lean back, thinking about how Jenna will feel when she finds out her mom isn't in charge anymore.

And how Brooke will feel when she finds out her mom
is
.

“It's only bad if you're Jenna Drews,” I mumble.

Mom pulls into our driveway and turns off the car. “So is it okay with you? Jenna and Rachel coming over after school?”

I shrug. “I guess.”

“Good,” Mom says. “Because we start on Monday.”

“I should warn you,” I say to George on Monday morning. “Jenna and Rachel are coming over after school.”

The last time they were here, Rachel put an old doll dress on George. Tied ribbons to his tail. Snapped barrettes on his ears. He tried to be a good sport about it, but even a sock monkey has his limits.

“I could hide you . . .” I say, picking him up.

George brightens.

“But that's no good. They'll be coming over every day for weeks and weeks. You can't live under my bed forever, George. Besides, you have to face your fears, remember? That's what you're always telling me.”

I set George on my bed and straighten his tail. “See you after school?” I say.

George gives me the silent treatment.

I look around my room. Then I gather up all my barrettes and shove them into my underwear drawer.

I turn back to George. “I took care of the barrettes,” I say. “But I can't make any promises about ribbons and doll dresses.”

George just glances away.

I sigh and head out the door.

Sometimes nothing you do for a friend feels like enough.

 

 

“We have a lot going on between now and the end of the school year, so I made a list,” Mr. Crow says as Jolene and I finish feeding Spud, our class hamster, later at school. Jolene is my favorite partner for this because she knows furry creatures with beady eyes scare me a little. She catches Spud. I change his food and water. Before she puts him in his cage again, she always remembers to hold him extra tight so I can pet his back.

I sit down at my friendship circle. Stacey, Jenna, and Dominic are in my circle too.

Jenna straightens up and smiles as Mr. Crow points to the chalkboard. She loves lists.

“Each friendship circle will help with one of the carnival game booths,” Mr. Crow explains after reading the last item on the list.

“Ooo . . . dibs on dart throw!” Zane shouts.

“Rifle range!” Quinn adds.

“Dunk the principal!” Randi tosses in. She stands up and does high fives with Quinn and some of the other boys. She's practically one of them.

Mr. Crow holds up his hand. “The PTA will be choosing the games and organizing the booths. So no darts. No rifles. No dunks.”

Everyone slumps.

“Great,” Randi mumbles, plopping into her chair again. “Duck pond. Clothespin drop. Lollypop pull.”

“Will the prizes be any good?” Rusty asks.

“Of course they will,” Jenna pipes in. “My mother already bought them. She's in charge of the entire auction and carni—”

I give Jenna's knee a nudge. But it's too late.

“Um . . .
hello
?” Brooke waves her hand at Jenna. “
Your
mom isn't in charge anymore.
My
mom is.”

She counts off on her fingers. “The auction. The carnival games. The
prizes,
thank goodness. All your mom got so far are pencils and butterscotch candies.
Ugh.
With
my
mom in charge we'll have fake tattoos, lip gloss rings, jawbreakers . . . the list goes on and on.”

Jenna sits back and steams.

“Yeah, listen to Brookey,” Joey says, making puppy-dog eyes at her. “She's always right.”

“Ugh-ugh!” Rusty nods and pounds a freckled fist against his chest. “Me love tattoo! Me love jawbreaker! Me love Brookey!”

Everyone giggles.

Brooke sits back and steams too.

“As I was saying,” Mr. Crow continues, “we have a lot to do. Quilt, starting today. Class trip next week.”

Everyone slumps again.

The fourth-grade class trip is the same every year. Tour the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum in Pepin, Wisconsin, and see the Little House in the Big Woods where she was born.

Supposedly, it's not the real log cabin where she lived with Ma, Pa, Mary, and baby Carrie. That one wore out a long time ago. The cabin we'll see is called a
replica
. It sounds like a cool dinosaur name, but really it's just another word for
fake
.

No one is exactly excited about seeing Laura's fake log cabin. Or touring a museum. We heard from Brooke's older sister, Jade, that it's almost as boring as a tour of the Purdee State Bank. That's where we went in second grade.