My Best Frenemy (7 page)

Jenna looks over my three dare cards the next morning while we wait for the bus.

But all she does is huff. Then she pulls three bent cards out of her coat pocket and hands them to me. This is what they say:

“Brooke won’t like it, ” I say, handing the cards back to Jenna.

“So? ” Jenna says.

“So, if you two are already fighting, this will just make it worse. ”

“We’re beyond fighting, ” Jenna says.

“What happened? ” I ask. “I mean, you and Brooke were always best friends and now you’re acting like you’re best enemies. ”

“Nothing happened,” Jenna says. “I’m just tired of the way she always bosses everyone around. ”

Rachel walks up to me and taps my arm. “Don’t forget,” she says. “You got to walk me to your house after school. ” Rachel starts piano lessons with my mom today, so I have to walk her to my house and home afterward.

“I won’t forget, ” I say.

Rachel turns to her sister. “See, Jenna?” she says. “Ida won’t forget me. ”

Jenna rolls her eyes. “Drop it, Rachel. ”

Rachel turns back to me. “Jenna forgot me yesterday,” she whispers. “She was supposed to come and get me from Tess’s house when the little hand got to the five, but she didn’t come and didn’t come and I might have cried a little. ”

“Stop making such a big deal,” Jenna says. “You got to eat supper there, didn’t you? ”

“Yes, but tacos don’t taste so good when it’s getting dark. And when nobody is keeping their promise to you. ” Rachel hiccups.

Jenna sighs. “I told you I was sorry. That’s all I can do. ”

The bus rumbles toward us and we step up to the curb. Rachel taps my arm again. “You won’t forget me, will you Ida? ” she asks.

“Nope,” I say. “I’ll write myself a note as soon as I get to school and stick it to my desk. And if you see me in the hall today, you can remind me then too. ”

Rachel smiles.

Jenna huffs and climbs on the bus.

When all the girls get to school we huddle together in the hallway and take out the dare cards we made. Jenna doesn’t exactly huddle. But she doesn’t walk away either.

Brooke takes all the cards and shuffles them up.

“Okay, ” she says, fanning the cards like a magician. “Now we each choose a card and do what it says. ”

“What happens if we don’t? ” Meeka asks.

Brooke thinks for a moment. “Then you have to do something
doubly
bad. ”

“A double-dog dare! ” Randi says. “Once I double-dog dared my brother to yell
Fire!
when our dad was taking a nap. ”

“What happened? ” Stacey asks.

“My dad shot out of his recliner like he was a human cannonball. Then my brother got grounded for a week. ” Randi laughs. “It was great. ”

“Did you get grounded too? ” Stacey asks.

“Nope, ” Randi says. “My brother never spilled the beans. When you take a dare, you have to swear never to tell on the person who dared you. ”

“What happens if you do? ” I ask.

Randi shakes her head slowly. “Then you’re up for a
triple-
dog dare. ”

“Ooooo . . . ” Brooke says. “I heard Jade and her friends talking about triple-dog dares once. ”

Jolene nods. “My brother got one last year. ”

“What did he have to do? ” Stacey asks.

“He wouldn’t tell,” Jolene replies. “But he smelled so bad afterward my mom threw away his clothes. Then she shaved his head. ”

We all gulp and fiddle with our hair.

Brooke puts her hand into the center of our circle. “Don’t spill the beans, ” she says, “or you get a triple-dog dare. ”

Everyone puts their hand on top of Brooke’s. “Don’t spill the beans, ” we all say together.

The bell rings and kids start heading into the classroom. Brooke holds the cards out to us again. “Choose, ” she says.

We each choose a card and head inside.

 

 

I’m just about to read my dare when Tom sits down next to me at his desk. “I brought that book I told you about, ” he says, sliding a big, thick book from his desk to mine.

“You told me about a book?” I ask, hiding my dare card in my hand.

“Um . . . ” Tom says. “No. Not yet. ” He pauses to rub his eyebrow. “But you’re such a good artist, I knew you’d like it. ” He nudges the book toward me.

There’s a picture of a bald man on the cover. His eyes are shiny and round, like black buttons. He creeps me out a little. Like he can actually see me. Maybe even see
through
me. Still, something about him seems familiar.

“Who is he? ” I ask Tom, pointing at the picture on the book cover.

“Pablo Picasso,” Tom says. He flips open the book. “The famous artist. ”

“Hey, I’ve seen that sculpture, ” I say, pointing to a picture of a giant creature that looks sort of like a monkey. “My aunt Margo took me to Chicago once and it was there. ”

“Cool, ” Tom says. “I wish I could see some of Picasso’s sculptures. He rules. ”

I turn a few pages and feel my stomach do a little jump. “We saw
that
painting in Chicago too!” I point to a picture of a man who is drawn in different shades of blue. He’s hunched over a guitar like he’s playing a sad song. “It was in a museum there. I remember because if you look carefully you can see another painting of a lady underneath. ” I show Tom the half-hidden lady in the picture.

“Maybe Picasso made a mistake, so he drew a new picture over the old one, ” Tom says.

I nod. “A do-over. Even artists get them. ”

“Or maybe he just thought the first picture was lame, ” I hear someone say.

I look up and see Quinn leaning in for a closer look at the book. He studies the picture of the blue man with the guitar. “How come he looks so bendy? Like his bones are made out of Silly Putty. ”

Tom laughs. “He’s supposed to look that way. Picasso used lots of weird angles and shapes in his paintings. He was trying to show the way people
feel
, not the way they actually
look
.”

“Well, this guy must
feel
sick,” Quinn says, “because he
looks
like he needs major surgery.” He leans back in his chair and burps.

Mr. Crow starts taking attendance and Tom puts the book inside his desk. “I’ve got more books about Picasso, ” Tom whispers to me. “If you want to see them sometime. ”

I shrug. “Okay. ”

Tom sits back, smiling. He closes his desk lid and rubs his eyebrow.

I unfold the dare card I have hidden in my hand and peek at it.

 

 

This is stupid.

 

I frown. Then I lean forward so I can see Jenna. She sits on the other side of Tom. I squint at her until she looks at me. I hold up the card. “You have to give me a
real
dare, ” I whisper.

Jenna looks away.

I dig a pencil and a little cube of sticky notes out of my desk. First I write a note to remind me about my promise to Rachel. I stick it to my desk.

Then I write a note to Jenna.

 

 

If I don’t do a real dare, everyone will call me chicken!

I fold the note and slide it onto Tom’s desk. “Pass this to Jenna, ” I whisper.

A moment later Jenna picks up my note, reads it, and scribbles an answer. Tom slides it back to me.

 

 

Then el dare you to let them call you chicken.

 

I sit back and sigh.

When Mr. Crow goes next door to borrow a stapler, I slip out of my chair and scoot around our desk square to Stacey.

“You have to give me a dare, ” I whisper to her.

Stacey looks up from sharpening her pencil. “Didn’t you get a card? ” Stacey asks.

“Yes, ” I say. “But it was . . . hard to read. So you have to give me a new dare or else I’ll get double-dog dared for not doing the first one. Quick! Before Mr. Crow gets back. ”

Stacey nods. Then she starts thinking. Suddenly her eyes brighten and she says, “I’ve got it! I dare you to empty my pencil sharpener into Mr. Crow’s teacup! ” Stacey holds her little pencil sharpener out to me. It’s made out of clear plastic, so I can see lots of curly shavings inside.

“But what if he drinks them? ”

Stacey shrugs. “I’m sure a few pencil shavings won’t kill him. Besides, he will probably spit them out right away, which will make everyone laugh! ”

“Except Mr. Crow, ” I mumble.

Stacey makes the sharpener dance in front of my eyes. “Do it! ” she says. “I
dare
you! ”

I grab the pencil sharpener and hurry to Mr. Crow’s desk before I can change my mind. I sprinkle the shavings into his tea and drop the sharpener into Stacey’s hand as I race back to my desk.

When it’s time for our second recess, we all meet at the snow fort to report on our dares.

“I hid Mr. Crow’s stapler, ” Meeka says. “If you need to staple anything, look behind the hamster cage. ”

“I put pencil shavings in his tea,” I say. “I mean, in Mr. Crow’s tea, not the hamster’s. ” I glance at Stacey. She gives me the thumbs-up.

“I put a snowball in Rusty’s backpack, ” Randi says, laughing. “Who came up with that one? ”

Meeka raises her hand.

“Genius, ” Randi says.

“I had to ask Zane if I could borrow his eraser,” Jolene says. She does a little shiver. “It was seriously slimy. ”

We all laugh.

“Who wrote ‘This is stupid’ for a dare?” Brooke asks.

“Me, ” Jenna says.

Brooke squints. “Well, thanks a lot, ” she says. “Because of you I had to dare myself to give Quinn my school picture. ”

“What’s so bad about that? ” Randi asks.

“He drew a mustache and bushy eyebrows on it and then showed it to all the boys.” Brooke flicks back her hair.

“So that’s what all the commotion was about,” Meeka says.

“Uh-huh, ” Brooke says. “I was totally mummified. ”

“Mortified? ” I say.

“Yes, ” Brooke says. “That. ” She turns to Jenna again. “So, did you do one? Or do we get to double-dog dare you? ”

Jenna doesn’t answer.

“Um . . . ” I say. “I think I saw Jenna doing one of mine. ” I look at Jenna. “You . . . um . . . switched books around in the reading corner, right? ”

Jenna glances at me. She nods. Then she glances away.

“Hmph,” Brooke says. “That’s not much of a dare. ”

“It was the best I could come up with on short notice, ” I say.

“What’s next? ” Jolene asks.

“It’s time to pick new dares,” Brooke says. She pulls off a mitten and digs the rest of the dare cards out of her coat pocket. She deals them out. “Keep them a secret until tomorrow. ”

We read the cards to ourselves as we walk back to class. Brooke does a little gasp when she reads hers. I wonder what she will have to do tomorrow. I wonder what
I
will have to do.

I flip over my dare card and do a little gasp too.

I stop and read it again.

 

 

At lunch, stand up and yell, “There’s a mouse in my macaroni! ”

“It’s a beauty, ain’t it? ” Randi says, looking over my shoulder at the card. “Ten times better than the other two I wrote. ” She gives my back a friendly pat and runs ahead.

I catch up to Stacey and pull her away from the others.

“What did you get? ” I whisper to her.

“Stick chalk in Mr. Crow’s eraser,” Stacey whispers back. “Easy cheesy. How about you? ”

“Well, it’s definitely cheesy, ” I say. I glance up to make sure the other girls aren’t hanging around. Then I give my dare card to Stacey.

Her eyes go wide as she reads it. Then her mouth cracks into a big smile. “That is sooooo funny! ” she says.

“
Funny?
” I say back. “You know how Mrs. Kettleson feels about kids yelling in the lunchroom. She will probably come after me with a spatula. ”

“But if she doesn’t catch you, everyone will think you were very brave for doing it. Even the boys. Won’t that be great? ”

“The greatest,” I mumble. If only being brave didn’t mean getting in trouble, and fitting in didn’t mean sticking out.

 

 

As soon as I get off the bus I want to run right home and think of a way to convince my parents that we should move away. Today, if possible.

But I can’t run because I’m walking Rachel to my house.

“C’mon, Rachel,” I call over my shoulder. It’s the third time I’ve called to her since we got off the bus. Since Jenna decided to walk with us to the corner.

“When my mom asked
me
to walk Rachel to and from piano lessons, I said
no way,
” Jenna tells me.

“I guess that’s why she asked me to do it,” I reply.

“And you said
yes
? Just like that? ” Jenna asks.

“Just like that, ” I reply.

Jenna’s nose flares. “Well, I just said
no.
It’s not like I have time to walk all the way to your house, and then wait around until Rachel’s done, and then walk her all the way home again. ”

I stop at the corner and turn to Jenna. “Why do you always do that? ”

“Do what? ” Jenna asks.

“Say
no
all the time. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to say
yes
for a change? ”

I do the nose flare too, and wait for Jenna to answer.

But she doesn’t. She just walks in a wide circle around me and heads down the sidewalk to her house.

I glance back at Rachel, but she still isn’t coming. She’s kneeling on the curb studying a stream of melting snow that’s trickling through a metal grate.

“You don’t want to be late for your first piano lesson, ” I call back to her. “My mom will give you a treat if you’re on time.” I don’t mention that my mom gives treats to all of her students just for showing up.