A Tale of Two Besties (18 page)

“HARPER!” Lily screeched, gracelessly tripping into me with a giant bear hug. “Puppyyyyyy!”

I smiled and mumbled out a greeting that got lost in our mad scramble to untangle from each other.

“Namaste, my sister!” Lily giggled and nudged my shoulder, as if she was about to start a fight with me. “How are you? I can't believe it's been so long since I've seen your face! I know I said it before, but I'm still really sorry about missing Walgreens the other day.”

I delicately brushed myself off, waiting for my best friend to explain why her text messages had been eerily cheery and placating and emoji-filled these past two weeks. A smiley here and an XO there: THAT does not a Bestie convo make. I'd really needed her after the Murphy's Ranch disaster, and all she could do was tell me to cheer up and try to distract me with stories about how cool her new friends are.

But I couldn't afford to be mad at Lily right now. Just seeing her again made me want to bask in the warmth of our BFF vibes and finally press Pause on the full shame spiral I'd been tragically circling since the first day of school. But I willed myself to stay steely. Something was up with Lily, and I needed to know what. And I couldn't let her get away with being a zombie-bestie any longer.

“I know, I've been the worst friend lately. I'm sorry. But I promise I'll make it up to you.” Lily always erred on the side of melodrama. Now, with a fake wail, she threw herself onto me and started tickling that spot right under my arm that drives me crazy with laughter. It was hard not to soften into a big pile of warm BFF goo, especially when I was literally collapsing into a pile of giggles, but I had to stay strong. Or at least aloof, until I got the answers I wanted.

“So what's been going on,” I asked, disentangling myself from Lily. “I've been trying to talk with you—like, really talk with you—for forever. You've barely sent me any updates!”

“I've sent you updates!” I could see the tears start to tremble in her eyes.

“I mean
real
updates, Lily. Not just smiley faces and exclamation points.”

“That's not all I've been sending you.” Lily gave a dramatic sigh and wiped away the last of her tears, which had ended as abruptly as they'd started. She pulled out her cell phone. At first I thought she was going to show me something—I had the weird hope that maybe there was something in that tiny hunk of metal that would explain her abrupt absence from my life—but she just looked at it, squinted, and then put it back in her pocket.

“Is that a Samsung Galaxy?” I asked. You can't just change your phone and not tell your BFF. That was like coming to school and announcing that you were changing your name to “Robot Monster.”

“Oh yeah.” Lily looked sheepish. “Nicole says iPhones are made by exploited Chinese laborers.”

“Whatever. Can you please just explain where you've
been
since school started? I mean, I know where you've been, physically. But where have
you
been,” I said, pointing to her heart. “I've been texting you my heart and soul and I feel like all I'm getting back are auto-responses from a robot programmed to always be happy. I feel like I'm going crazy. But now I'm more concerned that maybe my
bestie
is going crazy. Who answers BFF emergency texts with rows and rows of flowers and sad faces and then tips on how to relieve stress through the practice of yoga? That is straight-up ILLEGAL behavior!”

“Well when you put it like that. . . .” Lily said, looking frazzled. “Things are just . . . really . . . different right now. This band is taking up so much of my time, like more than I realized it would, and Jane just named me the new creative director of her blog and we're in the middle of a big re-launch and I know how upset you are about stuff at Beverly High and it breaks my
heart
that you have to deal with all those terrible people there every day, and anyway I guess it just got to this point where I've been feeling so bad about all that that I didn't even know how to tell you. . . .”

“Tell me what?”

“Um, well. That I can't go to your PuppyBash this year,” Lily said it slowly, her eyes squinting and her hands up at her chest, as if she were bracing herself for an attack. But even if I'd wanted to attack her (I kind of did), I couldn't. Her announcement stunned me so much that I felt frozen, rock solid, in place. She went on. “It's just that, like I said, Jane is re-launching her blog, and as creative director there's so much that I'm responsible for. Jane and I have to work all day and night on this party she's throwing for the re-launch, and the only free time she has for prep is on the same day as PuppyBash. I know this is awful and I tried everything I could to avoid it, but I promise I'll make it up to you. I'm really, really sorry Harper. I'm sorry in a million different ways.”

I narrowed my eyes. This was so typical Lily. She's always been in her own universe, but at least before it was a universe I have always been a part of. I was always there for Lily through her drama. Like when I rescued her from the clutches of an Emotional Vampire at her summer arts camp two years ago. Or that time that Quebecois exchange student claimed to be Lily's third cousin and accused Lily of stealing her “look,” because one time she had worn angel wings in a school pageant. In Quebec. Or the time when Lily didn't take my advice and dated Tim Slater, only to break up two months later. I was always there for Lily when her wings needed mending, and what does she do? Act totally emotionally vacant over texts and then tell me she can't come to our annual pre-birthday tradition. It was really hard not to be annoyed at her lack of thoughtfulness.

Lily's phone had magically popped back into her hand. She was pretending not to look at it, but the screen was so gigantic that it was impossible for her
not
to see it without even trying. This was the girl who had once asked me if Twitter was a “web forum for bird calls.” Catching me glaring, she put away her phone again.

“I was just checking the time,” she said.
Yeah, right.
“Look, I said I was sorry. And I
will
make it up to you. And I'm here now. Tell me everything. Tell me about that awful girl—what's her name? Kendra?”

“Kendall. Stephanie and Derek met her at summer camp.” I tried not to be annoyed at her late-in-the-game catch-up. “She's actually the worst person I've ever met.
She
showed up, when we were supposed to meet at Walgreens the other day. She backed me into a corner and kicked a bunch of pee pads in my face!” I saw Lily's confused look, but just decided to press forward. “Anyway, she is this sociopathic, domineering crazy person. It feels like it could turn into a total
Black Swan
scenario. I think she's going to murder me in my sleep.”

“She sounds awful,” said Lily. “Where does this Murderer live? I'll get rid of her before she has a chance to kill you in your sleep.”

“Ha. I don't know. Maybe I'm just becoming a Spiral.”

“Naw. Impossible. Of the two of us, I'm the queen of Spiral Mountain. Hey, so what
happened
last weekend? What did this girl do to you?”

I took a deep breath. I'd been dying to tell Lily about the video and what happened at the ranch, but now that she was right in front of me, I didn't know where to begin. As I was trying to come up with the words, a loud chirping noise interrupted my thoughts. Lily frowned and sneaked a look down at her phone.

“Agh, hold on, I have to answer this . . .” Lily trailed off and turned her back to me, but I could see the corner of her mouth curl up in a smile as she whispered excitedly on the phone. The worst part was hearing her corny little gasps and giggles, like she was trying to contain herself but
absolutely couldn't
because whatever was going on in her phone was
just that fascinating
. Finally she hung up.

“Okay,” Lily said as she turned back around. “My friend Jane is in the park, taking photos for her website and says I should go over to the Kusama Gardens ASAP. I'm sure it's fine if you come too!”

The Kusama sculptures were really cool: giant fiberglass flowers in trippy
Alice in Wonderland
colors (the original Disney, not the scary Johnny Depp one). But right then I didn't feel much like meeting any of Lily's new friends.

“I'm going to pass,” I said. “But you should totally go, if that's what you want to do.” I was making it pretty clear, I thought, that it would be totally unacceptable for Lily to leave the conversation as-is. But Lily, being the Spiral Queen, wasn't very good at reading body language for social cues (or
words
for social cues, actually. Any cues at all: not Lily's strong suit).

For a moment, Lily looked torn. “Okay,” she said, “but . . . I really do want to hear what's going on with you, Harper!” She seemed to consider me then, scrunching up the side of her mouth and giving me a long look. “Are you sure you don't want to come? We should really talk about . . . you know, your actual birthday plans at some point. I'm really sorry about the PuppyBash. Maybe you could do it with Stephanie? Or even . . . Tim?”

“No, that's okay. I think I'll skip it this year,” I said. I wasn't even planning on really skipping it, I just couldn't give this one to her. I couldn't let her get away with thinking this was at all okay. The Lily I used to know would have never ignored me, would never have canceled our annual pre-birthday ritual, and would never spend more time looking at her phone than at the beautiful world around her. This person in front of me was becoming a total stranger. I didn't know what her deal was anymore.

And then, with no bestie to confide in and nowhere to direct my anxiety, I really started to spiral—about everything. My feelings about Derek were just totally jumbled up. Before school started, Derek barely existed in my world. And now not only was he my first kiss, but the entire reason my life had become such hell. I had let a rando upset me!

But on the other hand, I had
liked
kissing him. And I still couldn't help but think of him as just like one of these rescued puppies that needs a good home. A really cute puppy that I could take home and bathe and teach some manners to and . . . no! This was the type of obsessive thinking that, combined with my Internet stalking tendencies, would get me in big trouble. I stopped myself from spiraling and turned an icy glare back to Lily.

“Aw, Harper. Don't do that. I'll help you figure out another solution. PuppyBash
will
happen this year! But . . . you promise you're not mad at me?”

I was weighing my response when a familiar voice called my name.

Lily and I turned around to see a lanky figure jogging toward us.

“Hey, Stephanie.”

“Hey, Harper,” she said as she trotted up to join us. I backed up a step without thinking about it, until I was standing between her and Lily. Though Stephanie hadn't been avoiding me like the rest of the kids from Murphy's Ranch were, she also hadn't gone out of her way to sit next to me in the cafeteria or anything. And I didn't want her bring it up in front of Lily, who still didn't know what I pariah I am.

“I thought I saw you with . . . with . . .” Stephanie was out of breath, craning her neck to get a look at Lily's fairy costume. “Oh, it IS you. Hi Lily.”

“
Namaste
, Stephanie,” Lily said, grabbing my hand and guiding me back to face her and turn away from Steph. “We were just catching up,” she said to Steph. Was it just my imagination, or was Lily giving one of the most popular girls in the 90210 zip code a brush-off? Another sign that this was zombie-Lily: the real version always got along with Steph, the nicer half of the hair-scream twins, and though we'd never been close-close, the three of us definitely had a pretty rich history of sleepovers and day trips between us. But apparently Lily had forgotten all about Steph, as well.

“Sure, oh sure.” Stephanie bit her bottom lip, still staring at Lily as if she were an exotic, slightly deranged animal—just like she had in gym class on Lily's first day of school. Lily glared right back with a level of snootiness that seemed totally foreign on a girl in gossamer wings and a poodle skirt. Unlike the costumed Lily, Stephanie's faded denim shorts and mint green peasant blouse made her look like the spokesmodel for Casual Normality. The fact that she had on pink knee pads and was carrying her longboard just contributed to her effortless-chic vibe. She was even wearing a helmet—black and chrome and sleek. Leave it to Stephanie Adler to make safety gear look cool.

Stephanie looked at us and smiled, but didn't leave. Surprisingly, the Gawkward Fairy's powers of social awkwardness didn't seem to be working, because Stephanie refused to take the hint. She kept staring at the two of us . . . well, mainly at Lily, who had dropped my hand and retreated even farther behind me.

“Um?” Lily said, and I felt a surge of embarrassment.

“Yeah,” Stephanie said, “it's just that . . . I hadn't seen you guys in a while. Both of you, together, I mean.” Stephanie's eyes seemed to laser right through me and cut straight into Lily. “Do you want to hang out? I'll just be sitting with Matt. . . . Lily, you remember Matt Musher from school, right? Anyway, we're sitting by the fountain, if you wanted to, like, come by. Okay.” Stephanie turned and started walking away, stopping after a couple feet to set her longboard on the ground. But instead of leaving, she just rolled it back and forth with one of her shoes, as if she were deliberating. Finally, she made up her mind and called over her shoulder: “Harper? Me and Matt are just friends, if that's what you're wondering.”

Lily looked at me and shrugged. “Okay,” I called back, confused by so many things. “That's good to know.”

“Bye, Harper. Bye, Lily.” Stephanie pushed off without turning around again.