BFF* (24 page)

Rachel came back and got into bed. “ ‘Night,” she said, turning out the light.

“Rachel …”

“Yeah?”

“Remember when we used to play dress-up with your parents' terry robes … pretending they were strapless gowns … and we'd stuff the tops with socks and tie the belts underneath …”

“Uh huh.”

“And remember when we decided to cook dinner for my parents and we burned the bottoms of the pots?”

“Uh huh.”

“And that day your new mattress came …” I began, trying to laugh. “Remember how we jumped up and down on it pretending it was a trampoline?”

“All of that was a long time ago, Steph …”

“I know … but don't you ever think about all the fun we used to have?”

“Not that much.” She rolled over in bed.

I bit my lip, scared I might cry. I thought, Rachel doesn't want to be my best friend anymore. She probably wants to be best friends with Stacey Green.

Burt snuggled next to my legs. His purring put me to sleep. In the middle of the night he and Harry must have changed places because when I woke up on Saturday morning Harry was next to me and Burt was gone.

Rachel was already dressed and sitting at her desk.

“What are you doing up so early?” I asked. “It's Saturday.”

“I like to get my homework out of the way on Saturday morning,” Rachel said. “Then I have the rest of the weekend free to enjoy myself.”

I rolled over thinking that I'm just the opposite. I always let my homework go until Sunday night. Rachel and I are opposites in so many ways.

By the time we went down to breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Robinson were getting ready to leave. Every Saturday morning they go for a hike in Devil's Den. If there's snow they take their crosscountry skis. I wished my parents would find something to do together.

Mrs. Robinson was tying up her boots. “It's
good to have you here, Steph … you've been such a stranger lately.”

What did she mean by that? “It's just that junior high keeps us so busy,” I said.

Mr. Robinson kind of patted my head. “Don't let yourself get so busy you forget your friends.”

I looked at Rachel but she was slicing a banana into her cereal.

“So I'll pick you up at the bank around five,” Mr. Robinson said to us, as he wrapped a plaid scarf around his neck.

“We'll be there,” Rachel said.

After breakfast Rachel changed the litter in Burt and Harry's box, then she cleaned her room. She dusted everything and vacuumed everywhere, including under her bed. She sprayed Windex on her mirror and the insides of her windows. She rearranged all her dresser drawers and made sure her closet was perfect.

“This must be the cleanest, neatest room in Palfrey's Pond,” I said, “maybe even in all of Fairfield County.”

“I like my room to be clean,” Rachel said.

“Is Stacey Green like you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know … does she clean her room and keep her drawers and closet the way you do?”

“Stacey is basically neat and organized, but not like me.”

Rachel was lining up the photos on her dresser. One of them was the picture in the purple leather frame, the one Alison had given to us for Christmas. She held it for a minute before setting it back in its place. We look so happy in that picture, I thought. If only it could be that way again. “Rachel …” I began.

“What?”

I wanted to ask if she liked me anymore but I couldn't. So I just shook my head and said, “It's almost twelve-thirty. We should get going. Alison will be waiting for us.”

Something Wild

All the stores in town were having mid-winter sales. I suggested that we go to Enchantment first because they don't have three-way mirrors. I hate three-way mirrors. At Enchantment there are no mirrors in the dressing rooms. If you want to see how you look you have to come out onto the floor. In some ways that's just as embarrassing because the sales people stand around saying how great you look even when you don't.

I liked the first outfit I tried—a dark green skirt and top, made of something that felt like sweatshirt material. The skirt swirled around and the top had a lacy collar and little animals marching up and down the sleeves.

“This is it!” I announced, taking a quick look
at myself in the full-length mirror. “I'm all set for the dance.”

“But, Steph …” Rachel said, “it's the first thing you've tried. Who knows what you might see someplace else?”

“I like it,” I told her, “and it's a good price. I'll have enough left to buy shoes.”

“You're just trying to avoid having to make a decision later,” Rachel said.

“I am not!” Actually, I've always been the type of shopper who buys the first thing that looks good and Rachel knows it. I save a lot of time and trouble that way, plus I don't have to keep changing my clothes in stuffy dressing rooms.

“She's not going to find anything more becoming,” the dark-haired saleswoman said to Rachel, as if Rachel were my mother.

“And that color was made for her,” the blonde saleswoman added, trying to convince her.

I loved the way they were discussing me as if I wasn't there. On my way back to the dressing room I said, “I'm the one who's going to wear it and
I'm
completely satisfied!”

When I came out of the dressing room Rachel was trying on some gold knitted thing and the saleswomen were raving about it. Alison and I smiled at each other. “I'm glad you're taking that outfit,” she said to me. “It looked great on you.”

Rachel tried on everything in the store but
couldn't find anything wild enough so we headed down the street. We went to three more stores and at each of them Rachel asked a salesperson to hold aside a skirt or a top for her. She kept a list of who was holding what, the way she had the day we'd shopped for Alison's room.

Alison already had her outfit for the Ground Hog Day dance. All she needed was a camisole and tights to go under the gauzy blue skirt and shirt. She found them at Underpinnings. She was so sure of her size she didn't even bother to try them on.

After that we had to pee. The stores in town won't let you use their bathrooms. They claim they're for employees only. And the restaurants also give you a hard time unless you're eating there. Lucky for us there's a very nice, clean bathroom at Going Places, Mom's travel agency. It's even got lemon scented soap and pretty paper towels to dry your hands. I felt a little funny because Mom wasn't there, but I knew no one in the office would mind.

The chimes rang as I opened the door. Business looked good. Three clients were talking to agents and two more were waiting. Mom says that during January and February people start dreaming about spending a week in a warm and sunny place.

“Well … well …” Craig said, coming forward
to greet us. “Look what the wind blew in. I missed you this morning, Stephanie. I had to do all the filing myself.”

“I'm glad to know you appreciate my hard work.”

“I do … I do … I can hardly wait until you come back next Saturday.”

“I won't be here next Saturday. Next weekend is my birthday.”

“I don't know …” he said. “You take a lot of time off. I guess when your mother owns the business you can get away with anything.”

Alison nudged me. She really had to go. I said, “Actually, we came to use the …” I don't know why I had trouble saying
bathroom
. I say it all the time.

Rachel finished the sentence for me. “The facilities,” she said to Craig.

As soon as Rachel said that Alison got a fit of the giggles and once she gets started, forget it! In a minute she had me laughing, too. Even Craig couldn't keep a straight face. But Rachel was annoyed and in the bathroom she said, “Are you two ever going to act your age?”

When we left Mom's office we hit four stores in a row. At the last one, Class Act, we ran into Amber Ackbourne and two of her friends. “We're shopping for the dance,” Amber told us.

“So are we,” Alison said.

Amber had on the same gold knitted thing Rachel had tried at Enchantment and her friends were oohing and aahing over how great she looked. Personally, I thought she looked as silly as Rachel had. “I wonder if Max will like me in this?” she said, posing in front of the mirror.

“Max?” Rachel said.

“Yes … he's the new boy in our homeroom and he's sooo cute. I may dance with him all night.”

Rachel just stood there, with her mouth half opened.

“Haven't you heard?” I said, setting the record straight. “Max likes Rachel.”

Amber turned away from the mirror and faced Rachel. “Is that true?”

“Of course it's true!” I said.

“I'm asking Rachel, not you,” Amber said.

Rachel mumbled something.

“What?” Amber asked.

“I
said
it could be true,” Rachel told her.

“Could be
isn't the same as
definitely,”
one of Amber's friends said.

And the other one said, “Just wait until he sees you in that gold sweater, Amber.”

“I don't steal other people's boyfriends,” Amber said.

“He's not exactly my boyfriend,” Rachel said.

That was a really stupid thing for Rachel to
admit. So I had to set the record straight again. “He may not be her boyfriend but you should see them in the cafeteria.”

Alison nodded but she didn't speak.

“You have the same lunch period as Max?” Amber asked Rachel.

“Yes,” Rachel said, “but Max is a free person. He can dance with anyone he wants.” She grabbed my sleeve. “We've got to go now.”

“But we haven't see anything here,” I said.

“We've seen enough!” Rachel spoke through clenched teeth.

“ ‘Bye …” Amber called. “See you in school on Monday.”

Outside, Rachel walked very fast. Alison and I had to hurry to keep up with her.

“How could you tell her that?” Rachel finally asked me.

“Tell her what?”

“That Max likes me.”

“It's true, isn't it?”

“Even if it is, you had no business blabbing it to her.”

“I wasn't about to let her think she can have any boy she wants,” I said.

“Max is
my
business, not yours!”

“Come on, Rachel,” Alison said, “Steph didn't mean anything … she was just trying to help.”

Rachel marched down the street to Ollie's, a
store that's much too expensive for us. We never go there, even to browse. But Rachel went inside and announced to the saleswoman, “I want something really wild!”

The saleswoman was tall and thin. She was wearing a suede skirt, a denim shirt and boots. She had about twenty strands of beads around her neck. Her hair was bright red and frizzed around her face. She looked exactly the way I imagine Rachel wants to look at the Ground Hog Day dance. The name pin on her pocket said
Glory
.

“I guess I'm not quite sure what you mean by wild,” Glory said to Rachel. “Because what's wild to you might not be wild to me and vice versa … if you get my point.”

I thought about Mom's earrings and wondered if she was having a wild time in New York.

“So are we talking formally wild or informally wild?” Glory asked.

“Informally wild,” Rachel said. “It's for a school dance.”

“Hmmm …” Glory studied Rachel. “What size jeans … 28 long?”

“How did you know that?” Rachel asked.

“It's my job,” Glory said, walking across the store to a rack of pants. She flipped through, pulled off a pair of white pants and handed them to Rachel. “While you're trying these I'll see what
we have in wild tops. Do you want a covered or a bare look?”

“Not too bare,” Rachel said, “but a little bare would be okay.”

We followed Rachel into the dressing room. Alison sat on the floor, cross-legged, and I stood in the corner, trying not to block Rachel's view of herself in the three-way mirror. She pulled on the white pants, then turned round and round, examining herself from every angle.

That's when I noticed the label. “Oh-oh,” I said, “they're designer jeans.”

“So?” Rachel asked.

“So … your mother doesn't let you buy designer jeans.”

“What are you … my conscience?”

“I'm just reminding you.”

“I don't need you to remind me!”

“But your mother will see the label.”

“If I decide to buy them,” Rachel said, “which I haven't … I'll cut off the label.”

“You'd lie to your own mother?”

“You're a good one to talk about lying!”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it.”

“No, I don't want to forget it.”