Her eyes lit with curiosity, but I had no intention of giving the “it was the best of times, it was the worst of times” speech before first period.
“What about you?” I countered.
“What about me?”
“You have a whole new group of friends. And a fancy hobby.”
“Stamp collecting is a hobby. Experimental film is apassion.”
I had a sudden inkling of how my conversational style must sound to Anjuli. The way it might make her want to beat her head against the nearest hard surface. “Right.”
Anjuli looked down, adjusting the strap of her backpack. “Listen. We both know it wasn’t working. You’re not a risk-taker, so you expected me to stay the same too. Like there was this box labeled Anjuli and I was supposed to sit there quietly and be your sidekick. And watch PBS with you on the weekends.”
This was a palpable hit, but I didn’t think the fault wasallmine. “Why didn’t you say something, if I was so horrible to be around?”
“Not horrible, just ... not what I wanted.” Anjuli blew a breath out the side of her mouth. “It’s not like I was what you wanted either. You moved on fast enough once I was out of the picture.”
It almost sounded like her feelings were hurt. But there was a trace of smugness too, like she’d done me a favor. Maybe I’d never really understood the way her brain worked.
“So it wasn’t about Pittaya?” I asked, relieved to think we hadn’t fallen into that particular cliché.
“That was a side thing. The icing on the cake.”
“Or maybe the straw that broke the camel’s back?”
“Whatever, Word Girl.”
It was something one of our teachers had called me years ago, though I couldn’t recall Anjuli ever using the nickname before. Somehow in that moment it wasn’t uncomfortable to have the weight of so much history behind us.
I felt a shifting in my brain, pieces of the past rearranging. All this time I’d been thinking in absolutes, like it was an either/or proposition: friends versus not friends, and if it ended badly, the whole thing must have been a lie. But maybe it was more complicated. There could be different types of friendship, and different stages within each one. Deep bonds of loyalty and affection, or ties that have more to do with convenience. Relationships that hold you back, and ones that grow with you.
I thought of something Arden said weeks before, when only Lydia’s size had been available in a pair of boots both admired. “A true friend is happy for you when good things happen. They don’t get jealous and petty.”
Instead of which, Anjuli and I had cast each other as villains. As obstacles to be overcome. It was a weak move, pretending it was all someone else’s fault—like they had the power and you were a waif tied to the railroad tracks.
I took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift. Now that the hurt and shock had faded, I could admit that Anjuli and I had been rubbing each other the wrong way long before the Shunning. And even though getting to this point had been graceless and painful, we were probably better off not pretending, or trying to force each other to become different people and resenting it when we couldn’t.
“What you said about me, that day?” I looked her in the eye. “It wasn’t completely wrong. I could have put myself out there more, instead of hiding behind books.”
Her sigh spoke of exasperation, but maybe also relief. “And I guess I could have ... used my words better.” She grimaced. “Can we be done talking about this now?”
“Okay,” I said, and it was. This ending I could live with.
When lunchtime rolled around, I hovered near the cafeteria entrance. Fever-like symptoms had set in: flushed skin, trembling limbs, a fog that muddled my conscious brain. The pervasive aroma of boiled hot dogs didn’t help. Perhaps it would be better to lie down somewhere dark and quiet instead.
Alas, it was too late. They had spotted me. I eyed the three of them warily as I moved in that direction, alert for signs of anger, or disgust. When I reached the table, no one spoke.
“Hello.” My voice sounded rusty. The pause that followed stretched on and on, a century or two at least. I gripped the back of a chair to hold myself upright.
“Hi,” Arden said at last. Lydia gave a stiff nod. Terry’s mouth moved in what might have been an attempted smile.
I drew an unsteady breath. “Could I talk to you?”
Arden’s narrow brows arched. “I don’t know, Mary. Can you?”
It took me a second to realize she wasn’t being sarcastic. “I hope so? I mean, I’d like to. If that’s okay.”
The three of them looked at each other before nodding. With a shaking hand, I pulled out the chair and sat down. The others fidgeted in silence, their lunches forgotten.
