Girl's Best Friend (5 page)

Chapter 9

♦     ♦     ♦

An hour later I found Finn in our room, kicking back on his bed and working on his homework.

Moby’s new album streamed from his laptop.

“Did you buy this?” I asked.

“Red burned me a copy,” he replied.

“Nice.”

Red’s way into indie bands and he keeps us up-to-date on new music, which is cool, for the most part. But he can be a music snob sometimes, and I’m still a little annoyed with him for making fun of my Taylor Swift CD last month. He didn’t say much—just held it up with two fingers, like it was a piece of moldy cheese, and asked, “What’s this?” in a super-snooty tone.

And Finn let out a laugh and said, “Maggie’s.” Like he couldn’t believe it, either, which so wasn’t fair because I’ve caught him humming along to her music on more than one occasion. I could’ve said so but didn’t because I’m nice like that.

I knelt down in front of our fireplace, where Finn and I keep our most valuable stuff. The fireplace doesn’t work—it’s only decorative (something we discovered a few years ago when we tried making s’mores in it). But that just makes it an excellent hiding place. Pretty, too. It’s cast iron and gray and the door has a tin plate with a cool pattern stamped into it—little suns inside square boxes.

The facade is painted shut, or at least it looks that way. But if you know how to turn the handle—with a slight wiggle and some force, but not too much, while pressing down on the upper left-hand corner—the door swings open in a snap, revealing a small space that’s perfect for storing Finn’s first edition comic books and my cigar box, which has not actually contained cigars in ages.

The box was a gift from Ivy—from years ago, obviously. And it’s where I keep everything I need for my dog-walking business:

Three sets of keys, color-coded and linked to a carabiner (I don’t put names or addresses on the keys because if they ever got lost or stolen, I’d have a big problem.)

Spare leash

Plastic bags

Doggie Deets stationery

Pen

Spare pen

Treats

Portable bowl

And most important, my dog-walking cash

I unloaded my backpack, added this week’s earnings to the already sizable pile, and secured the money with a red rubber band.

“I made flash cards for the new Spanish vocab. Want to quiz each other?”

Finn offering to study with me on a Friday night? Bizarro! Also weird—Finn usually waits for me to make flash cards. But this was no random act of kindness. Obviously, my brother had a major case of guilt about ruining my birthday. And I wasn’t about to let him do me any favors just so he could feel better about himself.

“No thanks,” I said coldly. “I’d rather make my own.”

“So you’re still mad,” said Finn. “It’s not my fault. Eve put me on the spot and you’d have done the same thing.”

I glared at him.

“Well, maybe not with Eve. I get that. But if it were anyone else … ”

I shook my head. “You can’t even compare because you have no Ivy equivalent.”

“So now you’re annoyed with me for not having enemies?”

It’s true—everyone likes Finn. But the way he said this made me sound so petty. “That’s not what I meant.”

Finn tapped his pencil against his Spanish book. My Spanish book, actually.

“I still don’t get why you have to hate her so much.”

I stopped myself from saying, “She started it,” because it sounded too babyish, although it’s completely accurate. “It’s complicated,” I said instead.

It was enough to get Finn off my back. And it was the truth.

Of course, at the time, I didn’t know how true it was.

Or how much more complicated things were about to get.

Chapter 10

♦     ♦     ♦

Turning twelve means you’re too old to have a party organized by your parents—with activities and games and goodie bags—and too young to know what you’re supposed to be doing at a party when no one is organizing it for you.

It’s like one minute you’re knocking down a piñata and playing Duck Duck Goose and Musical Chairs, and the next minute you’re supposed to be playing Spin the Bottle and Seven Minutes in the Closet and Five Minutes in Heaven. Or maybe it’s Five Minutes in the Closet and Seven Minutes in Heaven? Actually, they’re probably the same game and “closet” and “heaven” can be used interchangeably, but only in this one case.

I cannot be certain, though, because I’ve never actually seen any of these games go down in real life. Finn and I had only heard rumors and we were not going to be the first of our friends to suggest playing. Because what if we went about it wrong? I couldn’t really imagine what wrong would look like, but it seemed like the kind of thing that would be hard to live down, so we were playing things safe. This was strictly a coed pizza party, with no kissing, or at least no kissing games.

Of course, that didn’t mean we needed our parents hanging around. As soon as our dad headed out to pick up the food, Finn and I looked to our mom. “Okay, okay. I’m going,” she said, holding up her hands. “Now as agreed, your father and I will stay in our room.”

“Behind closed doors,” Finn added.

“Yes, behind closed doors. You won’t even know we’re home unless we hear something strange.”

“Define strange,” said Finn.

“Something that sounds like trouble,” she said.

“That’s still pretty vague,” I had to point out.

“Don’t you think your father and I have better things to do than eavesdrop on our children?”

Neither Finn nor I answered.

“Gee, thanks,” Mom said as she shook her head. “I’m outta here.” She squeezed my shoulder on her way out, adding, “Don’t forget to have fun,” with a meaningful wink.

That morning, over breakfast, my mom had insisted that Ivy would only bother me if I let her. Also, that nothing would bother Ivy more than being ignored because, in being so mean, she’s merely acting out for attention and blah, blah, blah … Obviously it was advice she got from a book on “girl empowerment.” The kind that’s useless in real life—not that I’d tell her. Better to act like I was totally swayed, otherwise she might try and get
me
to read one of those books.

So when Mom winked, I gave her a half smile, which might also be interpreted as a smirk, not bothering to point out that if someone needs to be reminded to have fun, the chances of that person actually having fun are probably not great.

As soon as the doorbell rang at five after, my stomach cramped with panic. I guess I felt nervous that Ivy might show up first and make everything awkward. At the same time, I felt totally annoyed with myself for caring.

Except I didn’t need to stress because it was only Red, and I should’ve guessed. Red’s always on time or early, which is funny because he lives the farthest away—all the way in Windsor Terrace, on the other side of the park.

“Yo,” he said when I answered the door.

Finn and his friends all started saying “Yo” to one another last spring and apparently it hasn’t gotten old—at least as far as they’re concerned.

“Hey, Red,” I replied.

His black hair looked moplike-shaggy, as usual, and he was dressed in his uniform of dark skinny jeans with a silver wallet chain and a T-shirt from some obscure indie band show. Little round glasses, too. Red often wears sunglasses indoors and I used to think it was cool, but ever since the Taylor Swift incident I’m wondering if it’s actually kind of pretentious.

“Happy birthday squared.” He flashed me a peace sign and a goofy, all-braces grin. He knows we’re not into any cutesy twins stuff, but he likes to tease us anyway.

Finn was standing right behind me, and he scoffed. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?” he asked.

“I only just now thought of it,” Red said.

He and Finn slapped each other five. Then the slap turned into a handshake, snap, fist-bump, and something else that got too complicated for me to follow.

The doorbell rang again, and this time it was Otto, who said “Yo” and went through the same slap, shake, snap, fist-bump thing with Finn and then with Red and when he turned to me I just waved.

Beatrix came next, and for that I was glad.

Some cool things about Beatrix:

1) She’s super tall, but she doesn’t slouch like a lot of tall girls.

2) She wears flip-flops even when it’s not flip-flop weather, because her feet don’t get cold until there’s actual snow on the ground.

3) She just moved over the summer to Brooklyn from Manhattan and she’s allowed to take the subway by herself.

“Yo,” Otto and Finn said to her.

“Hi, guys,” Beatrix replied, smoothing out her curly brown hair. It’s sort of puffy like the top of a mushroom (both before and after her attempts to calm it down).

Beatrix wore a black cotton skirt. It was the first time I’d seen her in anything but jeans and I wondered if kids in Manhattan dressed up for each other’s birthday parties. They didn’t in Brooklyn and I hoped Beatrix wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. Of course, she didn’t look uncomfortable. Not even with Red so blatantly checking out her legs.

When he noticed me noticing, he turned red and looked away. He’s often quick to blush, so maybe his name fits him better than I’d thought.

I pulled Beatrix away from the guys and over to the other side of the living room. We flopped down on the couch giggling, both of us knowing why and not needing to say.

Then the doorbell rang again and it was Sonya. When Finn let her in she looked a little panicked, standing in front of three guys. But then she noticed us and hurried over and sat down on the other side of Beatrix.

Sonya’s long dark hair was braided into two neat plaits that hung down her back. She had on a tie-dyed skirt and a white long-sleeve T-shirt with a giant rainbow on it.

Both my friends had skirts on. Maybe that’s what turning twelve means—dressy party clothes. I wore black pants and one of my favorite shirts—a silky baby blue button-down. My black boots had a chunky heel that made me feel tall, even though they only added an inch and a half to my height. So I didn’t look like a total slob, but I wondered if maybe I should’ve worn a dress instead.

Lucy showed up next in cargo pants and a cute green sweater. Not hand knit or anything, but it still made me think of her scarf, so I asked her where it was.

“Oh, I didn’t finish,” she said.

“What scarf?” asked Beatrix.

“She’s knitting this scarf for—”

“No I’m not,” Lucy said, interrupting. “I changed my mind.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “How come?”

“No reason.” She stared at me with this panicked look on her face, so I dropped the topic. But I didn’t know why I had to. It was only a scarf, after all.

Suddenly I noticed Ivy standing in the entryway. She just appeared like some demon in a horror movie. Except meaner. And instead of saying something normal like “Hello,” or “Sorry I’ve been so nasty to you for the past two years,” or “I know it’s pretty lame of me showing up to ruin your party,” she said, “The door was open so I let myself in.” And then, “Oh, hey, Beatrix. You’re friends with Finn?”

“I’m friends with Maggie,” Beatrix said. “Not that I have anything against Finn. I don’t. I just don’t really know him.”

“Oh.” Ivy sounded surprised, but I knew she was pretending. Our school is not that big and she’s obviously seen me and Beatrix hang out together. But I let it slide, because what was I going to say? I told myself it didn’t matter, even though it kind of did. I just couldn’t explain why. Not even to myself.

Ivy was in pants and at first I thought, “She couldn’t even bother getting dressed up for my party? How annoying!”

And then I felt silly, for the obvious reasons.

Ivy moved on, looking around all wide-eyed like she’d just landed on Mars, when she’d boarded a plane to Dallas. “Wow, this place looks exactly the same. That’s so weird.”

“It hasn’t been that long since you were here,” I said.

“It’s been years,” said Ivy, which I guess was true, technically.

Two years is years, plural, but I didn’t want her to think I was keeping track. “Well, what’s supposed to change? It’s just a living room,” I said.

“No need to be so sensitive, Maggs,” Ivy said, making me feel dumb.

Eve and Katie trailed in a second later, and at least they had the decency to act awkward. So it was Lucy and Beatrix and Sonya and me standing across from Ivy, Katie, and Eve—an imperfect square dance of enemies.

“For Katie’s birthday we got to go to Serendipity,” Ivy said, apropos of nothing. “That’s a really cute restaurant in Manhattan.”

“It’s near Bloomingdale’s,” Katie added.

Like I didn’t know!

Okay, fine. I didn’t, but so what?

Beatrix laughed. “My parents wanted me to have my ninth birthday there, but I refused because it seemed too babyish.”

I shot Beatrix a grateful look and she smiled, then turned to Katie. “But I’m sure it was a really fun party.”

Katie just shrugged and looked toward the guys, so everyone else did, too.

They huddled by the food, munching on pretzels and chips. They were either starving or afraid to talk to us girls or maybe both. Finn was on his third cup of soda, probably because we only get to drink it on special occasions.

I glared at my brother, silently pleading with him to rescue me from this awkwardness of his creation. And he must’ve gotten the message because the next thing I know, he punched Otto on the shoulder and walked over, and his friends followed.

“Hey’s” and “Yo’s” and “Wassup’s” were exchanged, and then we all stood around wondering what to do now that we were here.

Then Ivy said, “How’s it going, Otto?” all deliberate, stretching out the syllables and giggling like she’d said something dirty. Could she be more obvious?

“Hey.” Otto’s voice wavered, like he didn’t know if he was supposed to act sweet or indifferent. Then he stared down at his shoes—black Vans with white skulls that he’d colored in with green Magic Marker.

I noticed he was wearing his Brooklyn Cyclones T-shirt. That’s the minor league baseball team here. Their stadium is in Coney Island and if you sit high enough up in the bleachers you can see the ocean, which I think is more interesting than baseball but I wouldn’t say so out loud. Anyway, Otto had already spilled some orange soda on his shirt—a small spot that he tried to hide with one hand, except he kept staring at it, which actually drew more attention.

A second later, Red crossed the room and plugged his iPod into my parents’ stereo. “This band is coming to Southpaw next week,” he said, and he cranked up the sound.

“Cool, we should go,” said Otto.

Red gave him a funny look. “We already are going, doofus, remember? We got tickets last week.”

“Oh yeah.” Otto frowned down at his stained shirt again.

“Maybe we should go, too,” Eve said sweetly. Her attempt to make Otto feel better almost made me like her.

Music filled the room in a way that none of the guests ever could, and we all started to relax. At least I did.

Then my dad came back from Two Boots—our favorite pizza place—with four pies: two with pepperoni, one all vegetable, and one with extra tomatoes and cheese. He dropped them on the table and left the room.

We attacked the food like we were starving, but probably we were all just happy to have something to do. After we got pizza I drifted over to the couch and sat down. My friends followed. The boys stayed by the food and Ivy and her friends stayed by the boys, but kind of off to the side, so it was like we were at three different parties, which I wasn’t going to complain about.

“So what’s the deal with those two?” asked Beatrix.

“Who?” I glanced across the room.

Eve and Otto stood next to each other, not talking. But not talking in a way that meant they liked each other. “Eve and Otto?”

“Yup.” She nodded and took a large bite of pepperoni pizza. “Are they going out?”

“Not that I know of,” said Lucy.

“I’ll bet they will be soon,” Beatrix said.

We nodded, taking Beatrix’s word for it because she was the expert on this sort of thing—more so than any of us, anyway. She had two ex-boyfriends who lived on the Upper West Side.

“So, who do you like, Maggie?” asked Beatrix.

Uh-oh. Out of all my friends—and everyone else in the universe, actually—only Lucy knew about Milo. Beatrix was cool and all, but I’d only known her for a few weeks. I wasn’t ready to confide in her yet, especially regarding something as monumental as my hopeless crush.

I hadn’t told Sonya yet, either, even though we’ve been good friends since the third grade and great friends since the beginning of sixth. I can’t because of the unicorns. She’s really into them and I have this theory: you can love unicorns or you can love boys, but you cannot love unicorns
and
boys. It’s a universal rule, like how two positive integers can never add up to a negative integer. Any alternative is mathematically impossible.

“I don’t know. What about you?” I asked Beatrix.

Beatrix twirled one of her short curls around her finger as she surveyed the room. “I haven’t decided yet. But no one here, I don’t think.”

“Me neither,” Lucy said quickly, which was kind of redundant because she didn’t like any boy anywhere, as she’d pointed out to me on numerous occasions.

I’ll bet if Beatrix did like someone at the party, she’d have no problem making a move. She’s bold like that. Meanwhile, I couldn’t talk about anything real because I was scared Ivy would overhear and think I sounded dumb.

I glanced across the room, wishing she’d just disappear. And that’s when I realized she had.

“Where is she?” I asked.

“Who?” asked Sonya, chewing on the end of her braid.

“Ivy,” Lucy replied. “Whenever Maggie says ‘she’ like it’s a dirty word, she’s talking about Ivy.”

“That’s not true,” I said. Then I thought about it for a second. “Is it?”