Addie Bell's Shortcut to Growing Up

  “So which is it?” Jacob asks.

  “That’s the thing! I don’t even know what I did.”

  He glances over at Clementine’s table and I follow his gaze. I catch Clementine looking at us before quickly turning back to her conversation, letting out a loud, obnoxious giggle at something Annabelle just said.

  “Well, whatever,” Jacob says. “Forget her. You can do way better.”

  My gaze automatically drifts over to Grace’s table. She’s laughing, too. But her laugh seems so much more real. In fact, I immediately notice that it’s the exact same laugh she’s had all her life. I used to call it her Chip ’n’ Dale impersonation because it reminded me of the way a cartoon chipmunk would laugh. It’s so infectious. I can’t remember a time when Grace started laughing that I didn’t eventually join in.

  Even now, watching her from across the cafeteria, I feel my cheeks quiver.

  Is that one of those things that my mom was talking about? Something that stays the same no matter how much changes around you?

  As I watch Grace chatting with her new friends, I suddenly find myself wondering if my laugh has stayed the same after four years.

  Somehow I doubt it. And that makes me the saddest of all.

  Grace and I meet every day after school in the library to work on our nostalgia project and by Thursday we’ve nearly finished our presentation. It has so much good stuff in it. In addition to all the things we loved when we were younger—toys and fairy tales and tea parties—Grace also included pictures of herself in more recent years. She has a great photo from her first concert. She went to see a band I’ve never heard of, but she looks pretty happy about it. There’s also a photo of her at one of her marching-band competitions, all dressed up in her fancy blue-and-white uniform. But I especially love the picture of her taken at her first homecoming dance, posing in her dress next to a really cute boy with floppy hair. She admitted that the boy ended up breaking her heart a few months later, but she wanted to include the picture in our presentation because, at the time the picture was taken, she was happy. And when she thinks about him, she’s nostalgic for that time.

  Of course, I don’t know this boy. Grace said he goes to a neighboring high school. But as she told me the story of their breakup, I soon realized that by skipping over the past four years, I haven’t just missed out on stuff in my own life. I’ve missed out on stuff in Grace’s life, too.

  I try not to think about that, though. I try to focus on the fact that Grace and I have made excellent progress this week. Not just on the presentation, but on our friendship, too. Every time we’ve gotten together, it’s been like old times again.

  Well, almost. I can still feel Grace holding back somewhat. She still won’t talk about what happened in seventh grade. And she still insisted that we crop each other out of all the photos we’re in together, which made me incredibly depressed for a while, but it’s all good. We’ve still come a long way since the night of the dance.

  On Thursday afternoon, after we’ve edited and pasted in the final pictures and put the finishing touches on our script, Grace clicks Save and closes the lid of her laptop. “Well, that’s it. I think we’re done.”

  I smile. “I like it.”

  She grins back. “I like it, too. I think Mr. Heath will give us a good grade.”

  I feel my smile fading. “But besides the good grade, you had fun this week, right?”

  Grace looks away and starts packing up her stuff. “Yeah, sure,” she says breezily.

  “Grace—” I begin, but I’m cut off when I hear footsteps approaching our table.

  I look up to see Clementine towering over us with her hands on her hips and a really annoyed expression on her face. “So this is my replacement, huh? This is who you’ve been ditching me for all week? A loser band geek?”

  I notice the pain flash over Grace’s face as she quickly finishes packing up her things. “I better go,” she mumbles.

  I, on the other hand, am completely speechless. I can’t believe Clementine would say that. And right to Grace’s face! It’s the final straw.

  “She’s not a loser band geek!” I fire back, fully aware that I’m not using my library voice. But I don’t care. “She’s my friend!”

  Clementine snorts. “Yeah, you pick real winners, Adeline. Annabelle said she saw you hanging out with a middle schooler at the Human Bean this weekend. When you claimed to be sick.”

  I wince. She’s right. I did lie about that.

  So that’s why Clementine’s been so mad at me. Annabelle ratted me out. Is that why Clementine lifted the boycott on her? Because she sold me out? Gosh, I can’t keep up with all this drama. It’s like a reality show in these hallways.

  “It’s not like you have any right to be mad,” I retort. “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me all week! And you got all of your little…minions to ignore me, too!”

  Clementine wrinkles her nose. “I’m sorry. Did you say minions?”

  “Yes! They follow you around and do whatever you say. Like little puppets. But you know what? I’m sick and tired of being your minion. I’m not going to do it anymore. I don’t need you to tell me where to go or what to say or how to do my makeup. I’m my own person, and—”

  “You are not your own person,” Clementine harshly cuts me off. “I made you. You were nothing before me. You were a loser just like her.”

  Grace zips up her bag and stands up. I can tell she’s desperate to get out of here. I don’t blame her. I’m desperate to get out of here, too.

  “Grace, wait,” I say, but she shakes her head and bolts out of the library.

  I hastily stuff all my things into my bag and start to follow her. Clementine grabs me by the arm. “Do you want to tell me what on earth is your problem? You’ve been acting crazy all week.”

  “No,” I snap, glaring down at her hand on my arm. “I’ve finally been acting sane.” Then I break loose from her grasp and head for the door, leaving Clementine fuming and alone in the middle of the science fiction section.

  As soon as I get outside, I scan the parking lot for Grace. I spot her hurrying down the center aisle to her car. I run to catch up to her. “Grace! Wait!” I call out.

  But she doesn’t slow until she reaches her car and presses a button on the key to unlock it. “Addie, just leave me alone,” she calls over her shoulder.

  “No,” I say sternly. “I won’t. I’m so sorry for what she said back there. She’s…a horrible person.”

  “Who you hang out with,” Grace reminds me as she opens the car door and tosses her backpack inside.

  I grab her shoulder and turn her around. “Who I used to hang out with,” I correct her, pleading with my eyes for her to listen to me. To believe me. To forgive me.

  “But I’m done,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I’m done with Clementine. I don’t know why we were friends. I don’t even know how we got to be friends.”

  Grace narrows her eyes at me, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m joking or not. “Wasn’t it after your stupid Romeo and Juliet music video?”

  A rock sinks into the bottom of my stomach and lands with a thud.

  Suddenly it makes so much sense.

  Too much sense.

  I ditched Grace and left her to fend for herself on our seventh-grade project. I filmed a music video starring my cool and popular older sister and her drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend. Clementine must have liked it and started hanging out with me after that.

  I lost one friend but gained another. On the very same day. With the very same project.

  I feel physically sick. Like I might actually throw up all over the hood of Grace’s car.

  I was so obsessed with doing something cool and mature, I was so obsessed with growing up, that it cost me the best thing in my life: my friendship with Grace.

  Tears well up in my eyes. “Grace, I’m so sorry about what I did. I was an idiot. I was a horrible friend.”

  Grace doesn’t respond. She looks down and fiddles wit
h the keys in her hand.

  “I just want to be friends again,” I go on. “That’s why I stole the six of hearts card, so we could—”

  Her head pops up and she glares at me. “You did what?”

  “I stole the card from my neighbor.”

  “You mean you didn’t pick the six of hearts?”

  I shake my head. Why is she getting so wrapped up in this one little detail? “No. I picked the seven of spades. I pretended to trip and fall so I could swap my card with the guy sitting next to me.”

  “You cheated,” she says coldly.

  “Maybe a little,” I admit, “but it was only because you wouldn’t talk to me and I was so desperate to hang out again and try to fix things. Grace, I want to be your best friend again.”

  Grace’s face is unreadable for a moment. She stares at me with a stony expression and I have no idea what she’s thinking. Clearly, she can’t still be focused on this stupid technicality. Clearly, she has to understand what I’m trying to say. I did this for her. For us.

  “Grace,” I say gently. “You can’t keep getting so hung up on the rules.”

  “And you can’t keep breaking the rules!” she snaps, her face turning red, just like it used to do when she was a kid. “You’re always doing that. You’re always trying to find a way around things. You never want to do any of the hard work. You’re always looking for the easiest way to get somewhere.”

  “You think this is the easy way?” I can’t hold the tears back any longer. “You have no idea how hard this has been for me. You have no idea what it’s like to wake up and realize that you’ve lost your best friend, the most important thing in your life, and not be able to fix it. Trust me, this isn’t the easy way. There’s no way it could be. This is the hardest possible way I’ve ever gone. And I wish you would just let me fix it.”

  Grace stares at me for a long time, her gaze hard and unforgiving. Finally, she shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Addie. But it’s too late. You already threw it all away.”

  She gets into her car and I desperately grab for the door handle, to keep her from closing it. “Please,” I say, tears choking the word. “Don’t leave.”

  Grace bites her lip, like she’s trying to fight back tears of her own. Then, once she’s regained control of her voice, she says, “Stop banging on a door that’s already closed.”

  Then she pulls the car door from my grip and slams it shut.

  I stand in the parking lot for a long time, just staring at the empty space where Grace’s car used to be. My phone vibrates in my bag, jolting me from my trance. I pull it out and look at the screen.

  Jacob: Hey! At the Human Bean! Come hang w/me?

  I let out a sigh and close my eyes. I don’t really feel like being social right now. I just want to go home. But then I think about exactly what’s waiting for me when I get there. An empty house, a closet full of sparkly clothes that have lost their sparkle, an old playhouse that my mom wants to sell, and a dog who might be cute but who fails miserably in the field of giving sage advice. And I could definitely use some of that right now. Plus, the idea of seeing a friendly face is very tempting.

  I just lost two best friends in the span of an hour.

  I open my eyes and type out a reply.

  Me: Okay.

  The parking lot at the Human Bean is full so I have to park two streets away and walk. When I get inside, the place is hopping. It looks like an extension of the high school hallway. Everyone talking loudly, playing on their phones, and sipping lattes like they’re in a commercial for coffee.

  It’s funny how I used to want nothing more than to come here and just hang out. Just be one of the cool kids. But now this place makes me feel queasy. Like I’m an imposter who doesn’t fit in.

  No matter how grown-up I might look on the outside, I still feel like I’m twelve years old.

  I spot Jacob right away. He’s sitting on one of the couches in the corner. I start to make my way over to him but slow when I notice that he’s not alone. Sitting right next to him is a girl with long, wavy blond hair. Her back is to me, but strangely enough, she looks a lot like Clementine.

  Of course, I know it’s not Clementine. She has made it quite clear she doesn’t want anything to do with Jacob Tucker, and Jacob has made it pretty clear he doesn’t think too highly of her either.

  But as I approach the table, I hear a familiar voice coming from the couch. It sounds exactly like Clementine.

  “You are too funny! How did I never know you were this funny?” The girl squeals with laughter and then tosses a long lock of hair over her shoulder.

  I freeze on the spot.

  I know that voice.

  I know that laugh.

  I know that hair flip.

  It’s her. It has to be her. No one else can rock a hair flip like Clementine Dumont.

  But why?

  Why is she here with Jacob? She thinks he’s a big loser. She told me so!

  I stare in stunned silence as she cuddles up close to him, like she’s trying to climb right into his lap, and plants a kiss on his cheek.

  Then she turns and looks me right in the eye, giving me the most menacing smile I’ve ever seen. Jacob turns to see who she’s looking at and his face drains of color. His eyes widen as he quickly pushes himself off the couch, nearly knocking Clementine onto the floor in the process.

  He starts moving toward me, but it’s too late. I’m already running out the door. I don’t stop when I get to the sidewalk. I keep running. My heart is thudding in my chest; my breathing is strained but I don’t dare stop.

  How could she?

  How could he?

  I thought he liked me. I thought he had a crush on me! Isn’t that what he implied at the dance? Isn’t that why he asked me out on a date? We’re supposed to go to the movies tomorrow night. So why is he cozying up to Clementine at the Human Bean? And why would he text me to come hang out with him if he was already here with her? What kind of awful person does that?

  Maybe he never liked me at all. Maybe he was just using me to get to Clementine.

  I’m halfway to my car when I hear him shout behind me. “Addie! Slow down! Wait!”

  But I don’t slow down. I don’t wait. I just run faster.

  When I get behind the wheel of the car, tears are already streaming down my face. I turn the key in the ignition and drive as fast as I can (a reckless forty-five miles per hour) back home. I park the car in the driveway, run into the house, and slam the front door behind me. Then I just collapse against the wall. I’m crying so hard I can’t see straight and I can’t breathe.

  Why would Clementine do that to me? I thought she was my friend. Grace would never do anything like that. Ever. Because Grace was a real friend. Clementine is…Well, I don’t even know what she is.

  I don’t know what anything is!

  What is this life? Who have I become?

  Sixteen was supposed to be amazing. It was supposed to be perfect. There weren’t supposed to be sloppy first kisses and embarrassing YouTube videos and backstabbing new best friends and door-slamming old ones. There weren’t supposed to be any problems at all!

  My biggest dilemma at age sixteen was supposed to be which awesome dress to wear with which awesome pair of shoes, and which awesome eye shadow palette to tie it all together with.

  It wasn’t supposed to be hard.

  It wasn’t supposed to be this.

  Buttercup wanders over and starts licking my face, like she’s trying to wash all the tears away. But there are just too many.

  I wrap my arms around her neck and hug her tight. If it’s too tight, she doesn’t complain. She just sits there and lets me cry into her soft fur.

  She’s the only good thing about this life. Everything else is all messed up. It’s nothing like I thought it would be. When I wished to be sixteen, I pictured Grace and me being sixteen together. Sharing late-night text messages and helping each other pick out clothes and driving each other to school every morning.

&n
bsp; But she wants nothing to do with me. Because I messed everything up. But that’s just the thing. I didn’t mess it up. This other version of me did. This shallow, selfish, vain, stuck-up Adeline Bell. A girl who ditches her best friend on school projects, and hangs out with fake and phony people like Clementine, and steals dance routines, and spends all her time obsessed with stupid things like makeup and boys.

  She didn’t make any of the choices I would have made.

  But the longer I sit there with my face buried in Buttercup’s fur, the longer I wonder if that’s really true.

  I mean, didn’t I want all those things? Wasn’t I furious at Grace for acting immature at my slumber party? Wasn’t I obsessed with getting to high school and having a cell phone and growing up as fast as I possibly could?

  Maybe all this is exactly what those obsessions lead to.

  Maybe I’m more responsible for my sixteen-year-old life than I want to believe.

  When it finally feels like I’ve cried all my tears, I slowly pry myself off the floor and lead Buttercup into the kitchen. She runs immediately to her dish, staring it down like a hunter stares down prey. I make yet another attempt to find the dog food.

  But I fail at that, too.

  Why does everything have to be so hard?

  I hear a soft buzzing sound coming from my schoolbag. I take out my phone to find that I have ten text messages and four missed calls from Jacob. But I don’t want to read them. I’m sure he’s calling to apologize for getting caught canoodling with Clementine, and I don’t have time for his mistakes right now. I’m still trying to sort out my own.

  Buttercup walks over to the doggie door and looks at me.

  “What?” I ask. “Go ahead. Go outside. You don’t have to ask my permission.”

  But she doesn’t move. She just watches me, her big brown eyes pleading and pathetic.

  I let out a sigh. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  I open the door and she runs out, checking three times to make sure I’m following her. As I step outside, I try to ignore the yellow-and-white playhouse at the far side of the backyard, but it’s so big it’s like trying to ignore an elephant in a minivan. This backyard is that playhouse. It’s so crammed full of memories. It’s so painful to look at, knowing that what I had inside those walls I will never have again.