heer practice is much more fun than it was a few weeks ago. This is what Margo thinks as she gets dressed in the locker room. She changes into her workout gear — leggings, a tank top, tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt for the warm-up run outside. Dana and Rachel wear essentially the same thing. Tri-captains. They like putting on a united front.
Today the dance coach, Sami, is coming to do the final run-through of the halftime routine. The squad already has the moves down. This practice will be about fine-tuning. Making sure things look perfect.
Margo says, “Maybe one of us should sit out each time we run through the routine, to make sure everyone’s looking sharp.”
“Yeah,” Rachel says. “Sami can’t watch everyone.”
“Good call,” Dana adds. And then she laughs. “Anyway, when Sami dances along with us, she’s only looking at herself in the mirror.”
There are only a few more practices before the homecoming game. It will be the biggest game of the season. Students who graduated will come back for it. Last year’s cheering captains will be there, too, and they’ll expect the squad to look great. All except Maureen, who won’t be coming home. She might not even make Thanksgiving, depending on midterms. But it is still a lot of pressure.
Most of the cheer squad is already outside, waiting on the bleachers.
The younger girls start clapping for Margo when she gets close. It’s awkward, especially because Sami is there. Also because they’d done it the day before, too.
“What’s this about?” Sami asks.
The girls tell Sami about the list, which they shouldn’t. The list isn’t a thing to talk about in front of teachers, and Margo is paranoid about her encounters with Principal Colby. But it ends up being okay. Sami gets bashful and admits to the squad that she’d made the list once herself. Nine years ago, when she was a junior. Then the whole squad applauds Sami, and Margo is happy to have the attention off her for a moment.
But then Sami says, “As a prize, Margo gets to sit out the laps and hang with me. Alright, ladies, let’s hustle up!”
Margo thinks she sees Dana and Rachel roll their eyes at each other.
“I bet your friends are jealous of you,” Sami says when the squad takes off running.
“Nah. They’re not like that.”
Sami laughs drily. “Your sister, Maureen, had a lot of trouble with that last year. I don’t think people understand how hard it can be on us pretty girls.”
Margo watches as the squad reaches the other side of the field. She pushes herself up off the grass. “I’ll be back,” she tells Sami. And then she runs the laps anyway. It feels weird not to.
After cheer practice, Margo stops at her locker to trade her pom-poms for her books. Then she walks to the parking lot to meet Rachel and Dana at her car. The plan is to shop for homecoming dresses and grab dinner in the mall’s food court. Her mom has given her a charge card to use. Margo never abuses the privilege. She always hits the sale racks first. But tonight, she won’t hesitate to buy herself the perfect dress. Not when it’s the very last homecoming of her life. A year from now, she’ll be away at college, the dance just a memory. She wants it to be a good one.
She pulls up the hood of her cheering sweatshirt against the breeze. Maybe she’ll go someplace warm for college. Of course, that is months away. She hasn’t even filled out one application yet, or given her personal essays any thought. But the inevitable future looms over her, clouding everything with a sad nostalgia. She wonders where Dana and Rachel will end up. If they will still talk. She hopes so. They’re good friends. She loves them both.
Margo’s mind wanders back to her first homecoming dance three years ago. How she’d almost burned herself with the curling iron while fighting with Maureen for space at the bathroom mirror. How amazing it felt to be dancing next to Dana and Rachel in dresses, drinking sodas and hoping older boys would talk to them.
She’d been on the list that year, too. Bry Tate had made homecoming court for the senior boys, and he gave her his rose when the DJ put on a slow song. He was no Matthew Goulding, but more than a fine second choice. Bry had worn his football jersey to the dance and Margo remembers it smelling of grass when they did the slow dance shuffle underneath the disco ball. The rest of the football team had worn their jerseys, too, because they’d won the homecoming game, beaten rival Chesterfield Valley to a bloody pulp. Later that night, Margo kissed Bry in his car, while Dana and Rachel kissed other boys in other cars. When she got home, she pressed his rose inside her diary. She still had the petals.
Everyone was so happy. Everyone had a great time.
Jennifer had been on that list, too, and she’d skipped the dance for obvious reasons. Still, Margo had kept an eye out for her. And though Margo didn’t want to admit it, Jennifer’s absence from the dance was a big part of why she was able to enjoy herself. Hopefully, Jennifer won’t show this year, either. There are only so many good times left.
Rachel and Dana sit on the trunk of her car. Margo waves.
And then, from the corner of her eye, Margo sees a round shape make a beeline for her. It’s Jennifer, waving, too.
Why is she still at school?
Margo strolls over, trying to appear unnerved. “What’s up?”
Rachel hops off the trunk. “We invited Jennifer to come shopping with us. She doesn’t have a homecoming dress yet.”
“I wasn’t even planning to go,” Jennifer says quietly.
Dana pushes her books into Jennifer’s arms, freeing her hands to tie her shoelace. “You’re going to the dance, Jennifer. You are definitely going. This is your senior year!”
“Maybe, if I can find a dress,” Jennifer says, hugging the books that aren’t hers.
Dana stands back up and pats Jennifer’s back. “We will find you a dress.”
The girls turn to Margo, waiting for her to unlock her car. Margo squeezes the keys tight in her hand. “I’m so sorry, you guys, but I have to bail.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel whines. “It was your idea to go shopping today in the first place!”
“I know.” Margo sighs, giving herself a second to think up an excuse. “But my mom just texted me. She wants me to come straight home. We’re meeting my dad for dinner near his office. She’s upset about how we never spend time together as a family now that Maureen’s in college. I think she’s having empty nest syndrome, you know, because I’ll be leaving next year.”
Too many details, Margo thinks to herself. Rachel and Dana eye her, visibly annoyed. But Margo is annoyed with them, too. Why didn’t they mention that they’d invited Jennifer along? Did they want to blindside her? Didn’t it occur to them how uncomfortable this might be for her? Of course, Margo couldn’t get into any of that now. Especially not with Jennifer right next to her.
Dana takes her books back from Jennifer. “I thought the plan was to buy our dresses together to make sure we didn’t clash. So we’ll all look good standing together in the pictures.” There is a definite edge to Dana’s voice, hung entirely on the word all. And she doesn’t even register how screwed up it is to say that in front of Jennifer. Who wouldn’t be going with them to homecoming. Who wouldn’t be in any of their pictures.
Margo is about to suggest they go shopping tomorrow instead, even with the risk that Jennifer will elbow her way into that outing, too, but Jennifer turns away from Margo and speaks only to Rachel and Dana before she has the chance.
“If you guys still want to go shopping … I could drive us. My car’s parked right over there.”
Margo sits behind the wheel, thinking for a long time.
She should have gone with them. She could have played along, helped Jennifer find a dress, pretended that everything was fine. Like they had no history. Like they were never best friends.
It had been the last day of school, minutes into no longer being an eighth grader but a high school girl, and to Margo, everything felt different. All that had happened earlier — the gym class water-balloon fight, the good-bye pizza party
with soda served in little paper cups — were memories written in a kid’s diary. She’d suddenly grown out of her life, even though she could still see the rounded tip of her middle school’s flagpole from where she stood, like a doorknob for the sky.
She and Jennifer stood at the end of Margo’s street. Jennifer was finishing up a story about Matthew, how she’d heard him admitting to the other boys that, once he got to high school, he would only date girls who had at least a B cup. Otherwise, what was the point?
It didn’t sound like something Matthew would say, but when guys talked with other guys, all bets were off. Margo glanced down at her chest, barely an A.
Almost immediately after Margo called out “See you later” to Jennifer, her lips still warm from the words, from finalizing the sleepover plans Jennifer had made for them weeks ago, it occurred to Margo that she did not want to go.
Not only that, but she did not want to be friends with Jennifer anymore.
It wasn’t something Jennifer had done.
Not exactly.
But once the thought was there — or rather, once Margo finally accepted the feelings that she’d tried for months to talk herself out of — she couldn’t ignore it for one minute longer.
Instead of walking home to pack her sleeping bag and pajamas, Margo edged the toes of her Keds until they were cantilevered over the curb and watched Jennifer lumber up the hill with a lumpy backpack filled with relics of the past year: old binders, stale gym clothes, notes they’d passed, book reports from the first marking period. Margo herself had stopped carrying a backpack months ago, and everything that had been in her locker, she’d pitched into a trash can.
This image, juxtaposed with the lightness Margo suddenly felt, seemed to encapsulate everything, their entire friendship, the whole history, and why she wanted to let it go.
But letting go, she knew, would not be easy.
When Margo got home, she went to her sister’s room. Margo entered quietly, sat on the corner of Maureen’s bed, and waited for her to get off the phone. Maureen usually screamed at her to get out, but Margo supposed she looked upset, because her sister let her stay.
After Maureen hung up, she reached for her comb and began brushing her hair. “What’s up, Margo?”
“It’s Jennifer. I … I just …” She struggled to put today’s revelation into words.
“You don’t want to be friends with her anymore.” Maureen said it plainly, matter-of-factly.
It was a relief.
Margo had brought her diary with her, tucked into the waistband of her shorts, so she’d be ready to explain herself. If pushed for reasons, she could recall specific moments when Jennifer had been annoying, made her feel bad or guilty, acted weird around her other friends. It comforted Margo to have this proof pressed against her. It helped her feel like what she wanted to do was right.
It wouldn’t be necessary. Maureen didn’t need any convincing. If anything, Maureen looked relieved that she’d made this decision.
“Just prepare yourself, because Jennifer’s going to freak out. I mean, the girl is obsessed with you.”
“She’s not obsessed with me,” Margo said, even though it had felt that way lately.
“Please. She gets so jealous when you’re with your other friends. You try to include her, but she ends up holding it against you.”
Their friendship hadn’t always been like that. They’d had years of fun, years of good, easy times with each other. Margo resisted the urge to say as much, because it would just complicate things. She leaned back into the bed’s pillows. They puffed up around her.
“If I were you, I’d do it as soon as possible,” Maureen went on. “I mean, you’re about to be in high school. You can’t have Jennifer holding you back, making you feel guilty about meeting new friends and being invited places where she isn’t.”
That very thing had happened that afternoon.
A couple of girls invited Margo out for the night to celebrate the end of school. They were going to walk to the ice cream shop, see who was hanging out, and probably go night swimming in someone’s pool.
Dana and Rachel had waited to mention it until Jennifer left class to use the bathroom. All their invitations were like that. Secretive. Exclusive.
Margo was glad for their discretion. Because if Jennifer knew that Margo had been invited, she’d absolutely expect to come along. Jennifer seemed to think that, because they were best friends, they could never do anything apart. And maybe that was true. Maybe that was how best friendships were supposed to work. But to Margo, it just felt suffocating. It was another reason to want out.
“I’m supposed to sleep over at Jennifer’s house tonight. I guess I could do it then,” Margo said, even though the idea of a face-to-face confrontation with Jennifer made her incredibly anxious. What was she supposed to say? List off all the reasons she didn’t want to be friends? What if Jennifer put up a fight? Argued with her? That definitely felt like a possibility. She would certainly cry. Margo, too, because it was sad. And after they’d had it out, would Margo still be expected to spend the night? For old times’ sake? She couldn’t imagine anything more uncomfortable.
Maureen cleaned the hair out of her comb and dropped it into the wastebasket. “If you don’t want to go, don’t go. Pretend you’re sick or something.”
“But she’ll know I’m lying. I told her ten minutes ago that I’d be there. Her mom’s coming to pick me up in an hour.”
Maureen nodded enthusiastically. “Perfect!”
“Huh?”
“You’re overthinking things, Margo. It’s not up to you to spell out for Jennifer why you don’t want to be her friend. She’ll figure it out. And if she doesn’t, well … that’s not your problem.”
A while later, Margo heard a car horn outside. She tiptoed to her bedroom window, made a tiny gap in her blinds, and watched her mom jog out to deliver the news. Jennifer and Mrs. Briggis both looked concerned. Mrs. Briggis acted like any mother would toward a sick child. Worried, sympathetic. Jennifer was different. Her face turned as pale as the sidewalk, and she stared through the windshield up to Margo’s bedroom window, her mouth a straight, flat line.
A shock of anxiety hit Margo. Did Jennifer know? Even though Margo had been careful, had she seen this coming? And if she had, would it make things easier?
Margo fought the urge to step away from her window. She raised her blinds all the way up, to make sure Jennifer saw her. She felt brave and cowardly.
Mrs. Gable waved good-bye as Jennifer and Mrs. Briggis drove off. She walked back up to the front door, yanking out a dandelion on her way and flinging it into a bed of ivy that separated their property from the neighbors’.
Later, when Margo asked to be dropped off at the ice cream shop, where she knew Rachel and Dana would be, Mrs. Gable refused. If Margo was sick, then she was sick. Margo looked at Maureen, silently begging her to help, but Maureen stuck out her tongue and slipped out the door.
The next morning, Margo didn’t reschedule the sleepover plans with Jennifer. She didn’t pick up the phone when Jennifer called, nor did she call her back, even when her mom would leave Jennifer’s messages taped to her bedroom door. It took a few weeks of this before Jennifer stopped calling.
Without Jennifer, Margo had a great summer. There were pool parties and barbecues and late-night chats on the roof of her garage with her new friends. Dana invited her to ride on a fire truck for the town’s Independence Day parade. She and Rachel spent weekends selling antique Coke bottles at an outdoor flea market, but mostly getting tan in lawn chairs. She didn’t miss Jennifer at all, and no one ever wondered why Margo never brought her around anymore.
Only one person wouldn’t let Margo move on.
Looking back, it had been a mistake. She should have never involved her mom. Throughout high school, Mrs. Gable was a huge source of guilt, always asking about Jennifer, always wanting to know if she was good, how Mr. and Mrs. Briggis were, if Jennifer had a boyfriend. She asked the questions eve
n though she knew Margo had no clue. To prove a point, Margo guessed. What a mean girl her daughter was. Not that Margo could blame her. She knew what it looked like from the surface. The pretty girl leaves her ugly friend behind. It’s what everyone probably thought.
Jennifer, too.
Margo didn’t care to set the record straight.
She’d gotten what she wanted, and that was the end of that.
A knock at Margo’s car window jolts her back to reality. It’s Matthew in his football practice gear.
She unrolls her window and forces down a dry swallow. “Hi.”
“Is something wrong with your car?”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Thanks. I guess I zoned out.”
“Oh. Alright then. I’ll see you tomo —”
“How was practice?” she asks to keep the conversation going.
Matthew sighs. He seems tired. “Intense. We haven’t beaten Chesterfield since we were freshmen. Plus our team is way overdue for a W.”
She pulls her hair into a fresh ponytail, smiles a very pretty smile. “Oh!” Margo says. “I’ve got some news about my party on Friday. My parents decided they want to stay at home. I guess Maureen’s friends went a little crazy last year, and someone went in my mom’s closet and stole her robe. We can still drink and everything. And they promised they wouldn’t leave their room.”
Matthew nods, but then takes a step back from the window and regards her skeptically. “You sure you’re okay? You look, I don’t know, worried.”
Her overstretched smile makes her cheeks ache. “I’m sure.” Even though she’s not. And she doesn’t like that Matthew sees it.
She rolls her window back up and thinks about Jennifer and Rachel and Dana. Margo’s sure she’ll come up in conversation, if she hasn’t already. What will Jennifer say about her?
Nothing good, that’s for sure.
ennifer walks as quickly as she can away from Margo’s car, surprised by the footsteps crunching leaves behind her.