My Best Frenemy (2 page)

One of the books is called
Stellaluna,
which is about a bat, not a person. Normally, I’m not a big fan of bats even though they
are
a tiny bit cuter than cane toads. But the pictures are good. The story is pretty good too, because even though Stellaluna
is
a bat, you can learn to like her.

Turning to a blank page, I make the purple pen blink against my chin.

I’ll write to Stellaluna.

Stella
for short.

I put that last part in because you are supposed to tell secrets in a journal. Sometimes I do what I’m supposed to.

Here’s the thing about snow days. They’re fresh and fun in the morning, but they start to go bad and boring in the afternoon. So, after lunch, I call Stacey to see if she wants to go sledding. Sledding is the only sport I’m good at. Everyone calls the sledding hill in town
Ricochet Ridge
because it has lots of bumps to keep you on your toes.

Kelli answers the phone. Kelli is Stacey’s mom, but you don’t have to call her Ms. Merriweather or anything.

“Stacey isn’t here, Ida, ” Kelli tells me. “She got snowed in at her dad’s and won’t get back until tonight. ”

“Darn, ” I say. “Will you tell her I called? And that I can’t wait to see her? ”

“Will do, ” Kelli says. “Have a fun snow day! ”

“I’m trying, ” I reply.

I start reading one of my new books, but I am so much wanting to talk to Stacey that I ask my mom if I can call her at her dad’s house, even though that feels a little scary. Her dad or her brother might answer the phone and I don’t know them at all because they live in another town and Stacey lives here with her mom and grandma.

“Okay,” Mom says, handing her cell phone to me. “But keep it short. I’m low on minutes. ”

I call Kelli back to get the number. Then I drink a glass of water because my mouth gets dry when I have to do scary things and right now it feels like sidewalk chalk.

I press the numbers on the phone.

“Hello? ”

It’s Stacey. I do a big breath of relief.

“Hi, ” I say. “It’s me. Ida. ”

“Ohmygosh!” Stacey says. “Ida! I’m so glad you called! I’m sooooo bored! ”

“Meeeee too, ” I say back. “Now we can be bored together. But only for a little while because my mom set the timer. ”

“Have you seen any of the others?” Stacey asks. “Brooke? Meeka? Jolene? ”

“Nope, nope, and nope,” I say. “I saw Randi one day at the Purdee Good Café, but she was hanging around Rusty and some of the other boys, so I mostly pretended I didn’t see her. ”

“It’s so not fair that I’m stuck a million miles away from everyone, ” Stacey says.

Stacey isn’t really a million miles away. Sometimes she likes to make her stories sound bigger than they are.

“If you were here, we could go to Ricochet Ridge, ” I say. “Or build a snow fort. Or make maple syrup snow cones like Laura and Mary Ingalls did when they were pioneers on the prairie. They sound yucky, but still. ”

Stacey giggles. “Maple syrup snow cones. That sounds like something Jenna Drews would like. ”

Jenna and her family like to eat lots of naturally yucky things. Like tofu and spinach and wheat germ. I don’t understand how something with a last name like
Germ
can be good for you.

I giggle too. “She’s probably setting up a snow cone stand in her yard right now. ”

“And
making
people pay fifty cents to eat them! ”

We both giggle until we snort.

“I can’t wait to show you what I got for Christmas,” I say, thinking about my box of oil pastels. Stacey knows how much I like to draw, so she will for sure be excited for me.

“Me too!” Stacey says. “I got tons of clothes and stuff. ” Stacey runs down her whole list. “What did you get? ”

“I’m keeping it a secret until tomorrow, ” I say.

“But I’m your best friend, ” Stacey says in her frowny voice. “You’re supposed to tell me your secrets. ”

I think about my secrets. Only one, really. The one I wrote in my journal about liking Quinn.

“Okay, ” I say. “Here’s one. I got a pet fish. ”

“Cool! ” Stacey says back. “What else? ”

“Let’s see . . . I got a journal from Jenna. ”

“That’s no secret,” Stacey says. “I was there when she gave it to you. ”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know I started writing in it. ”

“You did? What did you write? ”

Part of me wants to tell Stacey what I wrote, but another part of me likes the squirmy way it feels to keep my secrets to myself. “Sorry,” I say. “That information is classified. ”

“I bet you wrote about your
crush,
didn’t you? ” Stacey says. “Who is it? Joey? Rusty? Quinn? ”

“Nope, nope, and—”

The kitchen timer starts beeping. “Oops,” I say. “That’s all we have time for today. ”

“No fair! ” Stacey says.

“Sorry,” I say. “The timer has spoken. Find me as soon as you get to school tomorrow, okay? ”

“Okay,” Stacey says. “Be prepared to tell me
everything
.”

I giggle. “You too. ”

I turn off the timer and think about calling someone else to go sledding with, but the only other phone number I have belongs to Jenna Drews. My mom has to call her mom sometimes because they’re both on the PTA. Plus, after Jenna’s dad lost his job, my mom and Mrs. Drews talked a lot because things weren’t the greatest over there. But now Jenna’s dad has a job again, and even though Mrs. Drews had to get a job too, things seem better.

I decide to go to the sledding hill alone, hoping there will be at least one other girl there.

There’s a bin of warm winter clothes by our front door. I start putting stuff on. Wool socks. Purple snow pants. Striped scarf. Pink hat with a fuzzy yellow tassel. I zip up my snowflake jacket and pull on my clunky boots, which make my feet look like capital L’s. I tug on a pair of black gloves. A minute later, I tug them off again because it’s hard to turn a doorknob with gorilla fingers.

My orange plastic sled is on the porch. I grab it and clunk down the steps before I sweat to death.

My dad is shoveling the sidewalk in front of our house. He came home from his job early because the snowstorm made his patients cancel their appointments. Dad may be an orthodontist, but he still hasn’t fixed my crooked teeth.

“Hi, Ida, ” Dad says. He leans against the handle of his snow shovel. “Coming to help? ”

“Sorry, ” I say. “Just passing through. ” I leave deep footprints in the unshoveled snow as I scoot around him.

“Ah, c’mon,” he says. “I’ll make it worth your while. ”

I stop and turn around. “How worth it? ”

My dad studies the snow that’s still drifted across the sidewalk. He rubs his whiskery chin. Every winter my dad grows a beard and every spring my mom makes him shave it off. “How about a dollar’s worth? ” he asks.

“Dad, that’s worse than the Tooth Fairy. ”

“Okay then, ” he says, “how about five dollars? ”

I study the sidewalk and rub my chin too. “How about . . . fifteen? ”

My dad grins behind his mustache. “How about ten? ”

I study the sidewalk again. “Will I get in trouble if I say no? ”

“No, ” Dad says. “But you’ll get
ten dollars
if you say yes. ”

“What will I get if I go sledding now and build you a
snowman
later? A big one, with aluminum foil braces in its mouth. And a sign in its stick hands that says,
For a warm smile, call May Orthodontics.
”

Dad laughs. “That will get you my sincere thanks. And a cup of hot chocolate. ”

“Deal, ” I say, and head down the partly shoveled sidewalk.

 

 

As soon as I get to Ricochet Ridge I see lots of kids, but it’s hard to tell which are girls and which are boys because everyone looks pretty much the same covered in snow. Then I see one girl for sure.

Two, actually.

Jenna Drews and her little sister, Rachel.

As soon as Rachel sees me she smiles and waves. I smile and wave back. Rachel is a lot friendlier than her sister.

“Hi, Ida!” Rachel calls. She waddles up to me. Kindergarteners always waddle when they wear snow boots.

“Hi, Rachel, ” I reply. “How’s the sledding? ” I look up at Ricochet Ridge and see three kids wipe out on saucers. Another kid comes down the hill on a sheet of cardboard and runs right into them. A monkey pile on an inner tube tumbles into them next. They all come up spitting snow and laughing.

“Fast, ” Rachel says.

“Like always, ” I say back.

“Is that your
sled
?” I hear someone say. I look up and see Jenna walking toward us. Her cheeks are the same color as her bright red hat. Her blond braids stick out under it, stiff with snow. She’s pulling a toboggan. It’s made of shiny wood and braided rope and probably a lot of other natural things.

I look behind me at my orange plastic sled. Then I look at Jenna. “Yep, ” I reply.

Jenna gives my sled another glance. Then she pulls her toboggan between us and stands it up on end. “This is
my
new sled, ” she says.

“It’s mine too, ” Rachel adds.

“Whatever, Rachel,” Jenna says. “You can take turns with Ida. ”

“Um . . . thanks, ” I reply.

It’s a long walk up Ricochet Ridge, especially when you are dragging a sled and wearing capital L boots. When we finally get to the top, I turn and look down. I gulp a little because I always feel braver when I’m standing at the bottom of the hill looking up than I do when I’m standing at the top of the hill looking down.

“I’ll steer,” Jenna says, taking the front seat on the toboggan. She picks up the loop of rope that’s attached to the curved wooden front and holds it with both of her mittened hands. “Get on, Ida,” Jenna says. “Rachel can use your sled. ”

“You can go with Jenna first,” I say to Rachel. “I don’t mind. Really. ”

“That’s okay, ” Rachel says. She plops down on my sled, belly up. She looks like a pink turtle with an orange shell. “Push, please! ” she says.

I nudge the sled and Rachel squeaks over the edge of the hill. Her boots cut grooves in the packed snow as she slips away.

Jenna shakes her head. “She
always
drags her feet.” Then she pumps the toboggan rope like horse reins. “Come on! ”

I climb on behind her.

“Tuck your feet under my legs so you don’t slow us down. ”

I don’t like the way Jenna bosses me around, but I do like sledding, so I tuck my feet.

“Push off! ” she shouts.

I dig my knuckles into the edge of Ricochet Ridge and push as hard as I can.

“Harder!” Jenna shouts, rocking forward to work up some speed.

“Need a hand?” I hear someone say. I turn and see Tom Sanders standing behind us.

“Yes,” Jenna says to Tom. “Ida’s not strong enough. Go get one of the big boys to give us a push. ”

I roll my eyes.

Tom gives me a grin. “Hang on, ” he says.

I grab Jenna around the waist.

“Tom Sanders,” Jenna says, “there is no way you are strong enough to—”

Tom may be the smallest boy in our class, but he sure can shove hard. His hands barrel into my back and I lunge forward, eating braid. But not for long because right away we are zooming and Jenna’s braids are flying. We zip past Rachel, who has only made it halfway down the hill so far. We sail past Jolene and Meeka, who are walking up the hill with their matching purple sleds. We hit a bump and snow flies up, stinging my cheeks. We hit a bigger bump and
we
fly up. All I can see is a blur of sky and sleds and snow. All I can hear is Jenna screaming one high note like the highest key on my mom’s piano.

We hit the hill hard and I howl. Jenna screams even higher and I feel her wiggle one boot off the toboggan. She digs it into the snow, but we don’t slow down. We just do a sharp turn and a moment later we are tumbling down the hill, boots, braids, toboggan, and all.

When we finally stop, I untangle my legs from Jenna’s arms and sit up. “Well,” I say. “That was fun.”

“Uh-huh, ” Jenna replies. She’s lying flat on her back like a snow angel. Her eyes are wide open like maybe she’s looking right into heaven.

“I guess Tom Sanders is stronger than you thought, ” I say.

“Uh-huh, ” Jenna says again.

Rachel waddles up to us and studies her sister. “Is she dead? ”

Jenna gives Rachel a squint. “Of course not, ” she says, sitting up. “I’m not a baby like you. ”

“I’m not a baby, ” Rachel says. “I’m five and a half. ”

“Then why do you still wear diapers? ”

Rachel punches her fists into her hips. “Pullups are not diapers. Mommy said so. And I only wear them at night. So there. ”