Best Friends...Forever? (13 page)

 

The next day at school, I gave Thalia her butterfly necklace. She squealed when she saw it.

"I love it," she said, slipping it on. "I thought Peyton's was so pretty, and I can't believe I have one now, too."

However, not everyone was as thrilled with the idea of the matching butterfly necklaces. Tori asked me at lunch why everyone was now wearing those. I shrugged. I didn't want to get into it with her, and I didn't feel like I owed her an explanation after she had apparently told Ericka that Vladi dumped me. It would have been an argument I couldn't win with the he said/she said mess, and I thought it was better just to let it go.

After class, I saw Kyle at his locker. I pretended I had a question about the math homework and started playing with my necklace as I talked so he'd notice it.

"Cool butterfly," he said.

"Oh, thanks. Yeah, a bunch of us have them: Devon, India, Peyton, Ashanti, Thalia, and me."

He snorted. "You guys must have loved Thalia copying you on that."

"What are you talking about? India got me mine, and I bought Thalia's. It was planned," I said.

"Yeah, right."

"Why wouldn't we get her one? She's part of our group, after all," I said. "Well, thanks for the homework, but I think I'll ask someone else. Don't take this the wrong way or anything but…I want to get at least a, 'B.'" He looked shocked as I turned to walk away.

I went over to meet Tori. We walked to the cafeteria together and I picked a bowl of chicken noodle soup and some crackers along with some fruit and a bottle of water.

"You got the last bowl of soup," Tori said.

"There are still cups of it on the tray," I said.

"I wanted the big bowl."

Too bad. Those days of me giving in were over. "Sorry, I got it first."

I stopped to get a napkin and started to move toward the table I usually sat at with Devon. Ashanti and Hana were already sitting with her, and there was only one chair left. I decided that if Tori had nowhere else to sit, I would make room, but when I went to tell her that, I saw her rush past me. She was headed over to the lone chair and sat down between Devon and Ashanti without even looking back to see if I had a place to go. I glanced around. Ericka was at Halle and Maggie's table. I'd have rather sat with a den of vipers than go over there. Then I saw Ashanti get up and drag another chair over. I went over to the table and thanked her for getting me a chair.

"That soup smells amazing," Devon said to me. The fake smile on her face implied Tori must have complained I got the last bowl.

"Doesn't it? Looks homemade," I said taking a big spoonful. "Oh wow, even better than it smells."

Tori shoved her turkey sandwich in her mouth. I guess all those times I let her take the better lunch were lost on her.

Devon started talking about how the first high school information night was coming up. She and Ashanti started talking about all the people they knew from the public school and other private schools who were going to the same high school as us next year. Tori's parents still hadn't decided if she was going to the public or private high school, but my mom told me that both schools had great ratings, so she would let me make the final decision on which one I felt more comfortable going to. Both schools seemed equally terrifying, but in different ways. I knew more people going to the public school, but there were also going to be a lot more students there, so I could get lost in the crowd and there was no guarantee I'd see any of my friends at all.

I had heard so many horror stories about the high school — especially what they did to freshman girls, like putting "F's" in lipstick on their foreheads so everyone would know they were freshman, throwing their purses into the toilet, and if they didn't like you, then they might throw dog poop at your house. The worst part was that the school was notorious for purposely nominating girls for homecoming princess just to humiliate them. Devon knew one of the girls and said she was cute and had friends so she never knew anything was up with her nomination until the day of the parade, and someone filled her float with pictures of ugly clown dolls and wrote "Nice makeup" all over. I remembered seeing her picture in the paper as one of the nominees. Her makeup was a little on the heavy side but not too bad. So if normal-looking girls got picked on, what hope did that leave for anyone? Why did people have to be so mean?

"Landry, it's gotta be so awkward for you to be going to Vladi's school next year," Tori said. "I mean, what if you run into him during the tour?"

"It's a huge place," Ashanti said. "People break up all the time. It's not a big deal."

Tori raised her eyebrows as if to say, "Yeah, right," and went back to her sandwich.

Meanwhile my delicious homemade soup was no longer sitting well. It never occurred to me Vladi might be around during the first pre-freshman tour. I would be mortified if I ran into him and he was with a girl. Or worse yet, running into him, and he was with Yasmin. Plus, I hadn't told my mom about the breakup, so if she saw him, she'd probably go over to talk to him. I could already imagine it: "Landry, Vladi's here! Hon? Why are you hiding behind the garbage can? Your boyfriend, Vladi, is here. Come say, 'hello.' Stop trying to run away. Why is everyone laughing and pointing at you and calling you a 'loser dumpee'? What does
that
mean?"

Well, maybe the world would end and I wouldn't have to deal with high school
or
Vladi and my mother running into each other.

 

Sadly, the world did
not
end, and on Thursday, we all had to go to the high school for a freshman information night from 6 to 9 p.m. The universe did throw me a bone, though, because my mom ended up having to work, so I went with Ashanti and her dad. I was a little relieved that I wasn't going with my own parents. Sure, I loved my mom and dad, but sometimes it was just easier to be with somebody else's family. In the car, Ashanti went through a list of stuff that her dad wasn't supposed to say in public.

"Okay, if I see one of my friends, and we hug or something, you can't do that squealing thing and go, 'Oh wow,' like you're making fun of us," she said. "And
don
'
t
mention my age, okay?"

"Ashanti, everybody there is going to be a freshman. You're all going to be about the same age, so it doesn't matter…"

"Trust me, it matters," she said.

I felt a little uncomfortable, because I was a little younger than most of the girls in my class. Tori and Thalia were the youngest of my friends, and even Tori was a little older than me. It helped that I was tall, so I passed for older, but it still made me nervous. Ashanti seemed so calm and confident as she talked about how she couldn't wait to take the tour. Plus, she looked so mature that she could pass for at least sixteen.

Mr. Russell parked the car, and we walked into the high school. There was a group of older girls standing by a juice machine. One girl was fixing her mascara, and the others were trying to see their reflection in the glass trophy case. Please tell me
all
high school girls weren't like this. Was high school going to be like an
Ingénue
competition? I wondered where the eighth graders were supposed to go, and then I realized those girls
were
eighth graders. Even Ashanti seemed a little intimidated. A few more girls came down the hallway. They didn't seem shallow as they had messy ponytails and weren't wearing makeup, but they sure did seem confident as they talked loudly. It felt like everyone there already knew each other. There was no one standing shy and alone in the corner. I was grateful I had come with someone, because I was not the type to go up to a stranger and introduce myself.

Mr. Russell saw Ericka and her dad over by the gym, so we went to join them.

"Public school girls sure look a lot different from the Hillcrest girls," I said.

"Ya think?" Ericka said, rolling her eyes. "I saw a girl in the bathroom with her bra sticking out of the top of her shirt. Did she think she was going to a music video audition or something?"

The three of us stood huddled at the door while Mr. Russell and Mr. Maines talked about how kids "sure were different" since they were in school. Mr. Maines seemed nervous as he watched a bunch of kids, dressed all in black, walking into the gym. Ashanti's dad started to say something about one boy who was wearing blue lipstick until Ashanti elbowed him.

"There's India," Ashanti said.

India walked in, tossing her shiny, honey-blonde hair behind her. She walked right over to the girls at the juice machine and hugged the one with the mascara problem. Then India pulled out her Little Rose compact and started applying pink blush right in the hallway. She totally fit in with those other girls — India appeared about sixteen, beautiful, and like she belonged there. Meanwhile, I was standing in a corner with Ericka, who had a snowman sweater on and was wearing a hair scrunchy — a scrunchy. It wasn't as if she was trying to be retro either. Only little kids and my bus driver, Mrs. Jackson, wore scrunchies. At least Ashanti was super pretty, but I wasn't so sure about how I came across. Did I look like a kid or a teenager? I had worn a royal blue turtleneck and jeans because I didn't want to call any attention to myself. Part of me would have liked to have the effect that India did when she walked in, but there was also a part of me that would have been perfectly comfortable wearing an invisibility cloak for the next four years of high school. At least being a "nobody" would have been better than being a friendless loser.

"Girls, let's go get a seat," Mr. Russell said. "Preferably away from any boys wearing more makeup than all of you put together."

We ended up sitting next to some skinny person in combat boots who had a snake tattoo. He had short hair in the back with super long bangs so I could only see half of his face, but I could see some black nail polish and the word "hate" tattooed across his fingers. Ashanti nudged me, and I noticed Ericka was gripping the bleachers so hard that her knuckles were white. It seemed like most of the people filing into the gym already knew each other. People were waving to one another and shouting, "I saved you a seat," to each other. Devon and Peyton had come together, and even they seemed to know some of the public school kids. I tried to wave to Peyton, but she didn't see me. Thalia waved to me, and she and her mother made a beeline for us.

"Oh wow, it's crazy in here," Thalia said. I liked Thalia, I truly did, but I wished she had changed out of her school uniform before she had come. She appeared at least four years younger than everyone else in the gym.

"Okay people, listen up. I'm Dr. Willson, and I'm one of the assistant principals here at Central High. We're going to split you up into groups and take you on a tour of our school," she said flipping through a notebook.

I said a prayer that I would be in Ashanti's group since I was so anxious and felt like I would faint if I had to go on the tour by myself. Mr. Russell was supposed to be my parent for the night, and if they put us in separate groups, I'd be all by myself.

"Please listen as I call off the group numbers," Dr. Willson said. "If your student packet number falls between one to eighteen, then you're in group one."

Student packet number? So
not
alphabetical order? Oh happy day! I made a promise to do my prayer journal entry at night in gratitude. My prayer had definitely been answered, and Ashanti and I were in the same group. Devon was in our group, too.

"I'm glad you girls are together," Mr. Russell said. "I didn't even think about them splitting you two up. I would have had to put you guys in the same coat and say you were Siamese twins."

I thought Ericka was going to throw up. "Thalia should be in your group," Ashanti said to her. "Thirty-five and forty-seven aren't too far apart."

Unfortunately, Ericka's group began with "thirty-five" and ended with "forty-six," so they weren't going to be on the same tour. Oh well, at least I wouldn't be alone. After all, at least Ericka had her dad with her. I was sharing a dad for the night. Dr. Willson told us to get into our groups, and I stayed glued to Ashanti's side.

"Hi guys, I'm Angelina, and I'm your tour guide," said a tall girl with dark hair down her back. I figured she was a teacher until she said she was a sophomore. Did the public schools have growth hormones in their water, or did all the Hillcrest kids just look hopelessly young? Well, except for India and Devon. I had only seen Devon for a second, but she had worn all black and was dressed pretty sophisticated in dressier pants and a scooped-neck top. Her hair was half up, and she had dark eyeliner on, too. I wished I had worn makeup instead of just my cherry cola flavored lip balm.

Angelina handed us each an information packet with a course guide, application forms, and a scheduling form. The forms were complicated, so I tucked them back in the envelope and figured my mom could take care of it. Angelina took us through the school, and I noticed how big everything was. The lockers were taller than the ones at our school, and the hallways were enormous. It seemed like there were a thousand wings, and I didn't know how anybody found their way around the place. We went into the library, which could have fit three of the Hillcrest library inside it. It seemed even bigger than the public library. There was a section with beanbag chairs and a row of computers along one wall. They even had something called "study carrels," which were little individual desks all sectioned off.

Next, we walked through the cafeteria, where a group of teachers had set up booths to answer questions. I was starting to relax when a girl ran up to Ashanti and hugged her.

"Oh, Ashanti," the girl squealed, and I saw Ashanti shoot her father a look. "I am so glad to see you. This is
so
exciting. Did you see all the hot guys that were in the gym?" she asked.

"I know, they were so cute," Ashanti said. "Gigi, I want you to meet Landry — "

Gigi interrupted her to point out some guy in a football jersey walking into the cafeteria. Ashanti tried again to introduce me, but Gigi saw someone else she knew and took off. She never even made eye contact with me. I tried not to look embarrassed, but it was obvious that I wasn't worth Gigi's time. Oh well, it couldn't be a school full of Gigis, could it? Mr. Russell took me over to the English department's table, told one of the teachers that I was a "gifted writer," and asked about the creative writing program. One of the teachers gave me a sheet on her creative writing class, but I couldn't take it until I was at least a sophomore. The teacher seemed sweet, and Mr. Russell asked her which freshman English class I should take, since there were two to choose from. She said that English 100 was mainly grammar and technical, but English 101 involved more literature than essay writing.

"English 101 is for students who have an interest in literature, while English 100 is just the basic freshman class," Mrs. Deckroe said. "I'm teaching 101, too."

I decided that I would sign up for English 101, although Ashanti thought that sounded boring after Mrs. Deckroe gave us a list of the books we'd be reading. Next, we went over to the math table, and Mr. Russell asked about the different math classes. Ashanti was a math genius, so she was advised to take the advanced algebra class. I wanted to ask what kind of math class they had for people who just wanted to "get by." Mr. Russell worded it better by asking which math class was best for a student who was "more creatively minded." I thought that sounded a lot better than, "can barely add." Smooth; I would have just asked which one was the "math for dummies" class. The math teacher suggested the math lab, where they explained the assignment and had lab assistants to give one-on-one help in class.

"Okay, where to next?" Mr. Russell asked. "There's the intro to physical science table, the foreign language table, or…"

"I wonder if they'll make us give speeches in the foreign language classes," I said. "You know, out loud in front of the whole class." Hillcrest only offered one semester of French our seventh grade year, and I had spent that time passing notes and mouthing the words to "Alouette," so I wasn't exactly fluent.

"Good question. Let's see if we can find out," he said.

"You ask, Dad," Ashanti said. "Otherwise it'll look like we're trying to get out of it."

Mr. Russell started talking to the French and Spanish teachers, casually working the speech question in. Madame Potter said that she didn't believe in subjecting her students to public speaking, but Señora Hark said the midterm and the final were a five-minute speech. Adios Señora Hark, and bonjour Madame Potter.

Devon and Peyton came over with their parents. Devon's mom saw the cheerleading coach and took off. She said her mom was still hoping she could be an alternate on the cheer squad.

"Landry, which classes are you planning to sign up for?" Mrs. Urich asked. "You girls should fill the schedules out together so you'll have a chance to be in some of the same classes."

Ashanti and I told Peyton and Devon that the French class didn't involve giving a speech.

"I think I might take Spanish anyway," Devon said. "I hated French class last year."

"I was going to take Spanish, but I'll sign up for French if you are," Peyton said to me. "I'll die if I don't have any classes with you guys."

"During my junior year I took calculus, and all my friends took the regular algebra two class, and I ended up in an all-freshman lunch hour. All of the guys in my calc class had a free period before class, so they had already eaten and I was all by myself. That's how I met your mom, Ashanti. I sat with her and her friends for the whole year," Mr. Russell said.

"I didn't realize you and Jordan met in high school," Mrs. Urich said. "I met Will my sophomore year when one of his friends hit me in the face with a Frisbee. He took me to the nurse's station and stayed with me until my nose stopped bleeding, and then he asked me out."

"Ew,
M
oth-er
. That's disgusting," Peyton said.

"It worked out for me, because my friend got detention for two weeks for hitting her, and I was off the hook since I took her to see the nurse," Mr. Urich said.

"Just think, Ashanti, maybe you'll meet your future husband in high school, too," Mr. Russell said, winking.

"That is so disturbing," Ashanti said. Everyone knew that Ashanti was holding out for Brad McMillian from the soap opera,
As the Days Roll On.
She had his fact sheet memorized. Ashanti even called a psychic hotline, which pretty much confirmed that she'd be marrying an actor with the initials "B. M.," and they'd live in New York, where the show was filmed. I also liked an actor from the show, who played Colin, but I already knew he had a girlfriend, and the chances of him wanting to go out with me weren't great.

My parents had met in college and gotten married right away. They only dated for six months, which, my Grandma Albright frequently pointed out, "wasn't a very long time." Ashanti had told me that her parents waited until they had both graduated from grad school before getting married, and I knew that Mr. and Mrs. Urich had waited until they graduated from college before they got married. Maybe that was my parents' problem — they got married too fast. My grandma always said my parents were "young, dumb, and in love," which always annoyed my mother. But maybe Grandma was right. Maybe if they had waited to get married — or waited to have me — they wouldn't have fought so much, and we'd all be living together. It wasn't fair that Devon, Ashanti, and Peyton got to live with both their parents while I barely saw my dad.