Today was off to a great start.
Nobody was behind me, so I mounted my iPhone on the dashboard and quickly queued up a Spotify playlist…until a text popped up onscreen, sent to both me and Grace.You mind grabbing me?it read.
I sighed but flipped my left blinker instead of turning right toward town. His house was only a few streets over from ours, and when it came into view, someone that resembled Everett Adler was waiting in the driveway. He sort of looked like a ghoul gone missing from a Spirit Halloween store, complexion six-feet-under-pale with grayish-green bags under his eyes. “Miss the bus?” I asked as he slid into shotgun.
“Very funny.” Everett rolled his eyes before glancing around for Grace. I wondered how long he would hold off on asking where she was. “No, my battery’s dead.”
“Didn’t have time to jump it?”
“Couldn’t.” He buckled his seat belt. “The cables are in the trunk of my mom’s car, which is sitting at the dealership because it’s—”
“Due for its annual inspection,” I finished, shifting the Subaru back into drive. “Right, I remember her mentioning it on Saturday. She’s busted out your dad’s Bronco.”
“Unfortunately,” Everett mumbled, and while I wanted to ask what his deal was, I couldn’t. Because that was it. The conversation ended.
And I felt bad—not for him, not for me, but for ourparents.They had tried so hard over the years, pushing the two of us together in the hope that we would become best friends. We’d been on the same youth soccer team, we’d trick-or-treated together—we’d even had sleepovers. Plus, our family game nights endured. Just this weekend we’d been over at his house playing Telestrations (if you aren’t in the know: Telephone meets Pictionary on steroids).
But it wasn’t happening. It wasn’t ever going to happen. They’d gotten lucky with Isa and Grace, who were so close that sometimes they walked through the hallways with their arms linked. Meanwhile, Everett and I mostly exchanged nods. “I know you have plenty of friends, but why don’t you like him?” my mom asked now and again, and I always shrugged. The truth was I didn’tdislikethe guy, but after everything that went down with Isa…
“Where’s our commander in chief this morning?” Everett caved after a few minutes of silence. We couldn’t even talk about the weather.
“Sick,” I answered. “Blowing chunks all night.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Jeez, I can’t remember the last time she had the stomachflu.”
“Probably because it was when you were still friends,” Isaid without thinking, too focused on pulling into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.
I glanced over to see Everett low-key glaring at me.
“Dude, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” I asked. Everett had never been the confrontational type. It really was like some miserable spirit had taken over his body today.
“Grace and I are still friends,” he answered.
“Really?” I deadpanned. “I wasn’t aware.” I maneuvered the Subaru in between two fellow coffee-drinking cars and put the car in park. “Issheaware?”
Next to Isa, Everett had once been my sister’s best friend.Theywere the natural Adler-Barbour pairing, no pushing from parents needed. It was all joyriding until they screeched to a stop; for the last three years, they barely spoke to each other outside family stuff.
No, our parents couldn’t suspect what I, a humble bystander, secretly called the Freshman Year Fracture.
Everett whistled. “You’re brutal,” he said, then noticed where we were. His eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t think you drank coffee?”
(Note: You might not be friends with a person, but if your families were friends, you ended up learning a lot about each other.)
“I don’t,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt. “This stop isn’t for me.” I paused before turning to him. “But since we’re here, would you like anything?”
Fifteen minutes before the bell, I swung into a prime front-row parking spot with a sign readingRESERVED FOR STUDENT BODY PRESIDENT.
Everett snorted. “Nice.”
“Why not?” I said. “If you have the connections…”
We headed into the building together, climbing the concrete front steps among a swarm of students. “Thanks for the ride, Barbour,” he said once we reached the lobby, giving me a perfunctory nod before walking off toward his locker.
Instead of doing the same, I looked up at the ceiling, counted to ten, and then pushed into the front office with my cardboard coffee carrier. “James!” Mrs.Flamporis looked up from her computer to smile at me. “Good morning!”
