2

“Char!”

I burst into Charlie’s kitchen, panting. Doggy nails clicked against the tile as Jelly, her rat terrier, ran in excited circles, as if I hadn’t entered the house a million times before. That’s the great thing about dogs. You’re never old news to them.

“Marisa? I was about to call you! Where the hell have you been?” Charlie appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room wearing yoga pants and a sweatshirt that said That’s Madame Bitch to You, cell phone in hand. Thanks to our dark hair and eyes, Charlie and I have been mistaken for sisters a few times. Granted, my hair has a natural wave to it and Charlie’s is poker straight, but we’re even the same height—five feet, four and a half inches. Except tonight, she looked freshly showered and ready to relax, and I looked like a train wreck who’d done battle with an overgrown shrub. She eyed the brown bag in my hand that was dotted with wet spots from the melting ice cream. “Is everything okay?”

I scooped Jelly into my arms, giving myself a second to catch my breath. “Everything is fine. I mean everything will be fine. I mean…” I shook my head, trying to force my adrenaline-jacked thoughts into coherence. “I have some bad news.” I put the dog down and held my phone against my chest. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“What is? Out with it.”

“It’s about your boyfriend.”

“Jason?”

Jason. I was a little off with the whole Greggie-George thing. And also surprised that Charlie had given up shunning use of the word boyfriend when we talked about him, which meant she was finally ready to admit how much she liked him. Which made my news suck all the more.

“He was at Fudgie’s buying ice cream.”

Charlie’s left eyebrow shot up. “He’s supposed to be sick in bed right now.”

“Right. I thought maybe he was feeling better and bringing the ice cream here for you until I realized they were both vanilla. So…when he left the store, I followed him.”

“Followed him? What are you getting at, Palmera?”

“He went to someone’s house.” I pulled up the picture on my screen and held it out to her. “Anyone you know?”

Charlie stared wordlessly, her lips pressed into a taut line. “That. Piece. Of. Shit,” she growled. But her voice caught on the last word, and I wished I’d given my delivery more thought.

“I’m sorry, Char.”

“No. No, it’s fine.” She exhaled and straightened her shoulders. “What time does the mall close? Ten?”

“I think so. Why?”

She snatched the bag from my hand, opened the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where the trash can was located, and dumped our ice cream in it. “Change of plans. We have a dress to return.”

• • •

The more I thought about it, the more I wished I’d handled breaking the news about Jason differently. It felt wrong to have told Charlie while I was on such a high, but I couldn’t help it. Outing a scumbag felt more badass than anything I’d ever done—especially when I told her how I’d gotten the picture, and she looked at me like I’d parted the Red Sea.

Still, by the time Monday rolled around, I continued to worry that I’d been an insensitive jerk. I didn’t think I’d acted excited when I told her, but knowing I’d felt that way kept eating at me, like maybe she thought I’d trailed him for me and not her. So on Monday afternoon I slipped out of my yearbook staff meeting a few minutes early. My brother took the bus home on days when I stayed after school, so I made my way out of the building via one of the side exits, planning to head to Charlie’s house to apologize.

“Marisa! Hold up!”

I paused at the mention of my name and the accompanying sound of sneakers slapping against concrete. TJ Caruso came flying down the stairs toward me. It took me a second to register that he’d called to me, because I was so unaccustomed to hearing him speak. He’d transferred to Herring Cross for senior year and didn’t strike me as unfriendly, just quiet. He usually sat in the back of the yearbook classroom with his feet propped up on the chair in front of him or earnestly editing whatever interview he’d been assigned for the week. Seeing him so animated was a little weird.

“Hey,” he said, coming to a stop in front of me. “This, uh, fell out of your pants.”

“Excuse me?”

He opened his hand. In his palm sat the silver M charm from my ankle bracelet.

“Oh no,” I groaned, bending down to inch up the right leg of my jeans. They were tight enough that they’d prevented my broken bracelet from falling off completely, but as I eased the limp strand into my hands, I saw that at least two other charms had slipped free—including my favorite glass poinsettia bead. “Did you happen to find any others?”

He shook his head apologetically. “Only that one.” Seeing the dejected look on my face, he added, “But I can take another look when I go back.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He jogged up the steps as I contemplated going back inside to search for my charm. My mother had special ordered it for Christmas last year, and the thought of it getting swept into the janitor’s dustpan and thrown out with the trash made me nauseous. Except I had no idea where to start looking. The clasp could’ve snapped this morning and been slowly leaking beads ever since. I’d have to retrace all my steps and—

“Oh, Marisa?” TJ’s voice cut into my thoughts and I turned to see him on the landing, one hand poised on the door handle. “Is it all right if I send you my interview with Mr. Leroche on Tuesday? I’m working a ton of hours this weekend.”

“I’d really like to get it locked into the layout on Monday, if you can.”

TJ scratched his head, making a few of his dark curls dance. “Let me see what I can do. I have this other…obligation that I might be able to get out of.”

“No, don’t cancel your plans. It’s not that important,” I said, even though I got the feeling he kind of wanted to get out of whatever it was.

“It’s not something I’m looking forward to anyway.”

“Oh. Good luck then.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.” He started toward the school again. As I clutched the remains of my ankle bracelet in my palm, I thought, You and me both.

And as I approached my beat-up red jalopy, I realized I needed it sooner rather than later.

Because someone sat perched on the hood of the equally beat-up car that had been backed into the space next to mine, feet propped on the bumper, one hand resting on the faded gray metal as the other typed on a cell phone. Someone with wheat-colored hair, long, slender legs clad in black leggings crossed beneath a short jean skirt, and a cute, freckle-dotted button nose.

No freaking way. I made a mental note to bump up my next eye exam, because that could not be Kendall Keene, my oldest frenemy, draped across the hood of a random car in my school’s parking lot.

She looked up then, as if I’d spoken her name out loud. I halted midstep as her green eyes went big. “Oh my God, Marisa? Marisa Palmera?”

“Kendall? What are you doing here?”

Her familiar smile, the one with the slightly crooked teeth that somehow made her even more adorable, lit her face. She hopped down from the car. “My boyfriend goes to school here and I thought he needed a ride, but I had the days confused.” She waved her cell phone, and I assumed said boyfriend was the one she’d been texting a second ago.

“But I thought you moved to Arizona.”

“I did! We moved back to Pennsylvania last year. We’re living in Monroe now.”

“That’s… Wow.”

Wow about covered it. Kendall and I had gone to school together and played on the same rec soccer team from third through sixth grade, before I moved to Herring Cross. We did everything together, but our friendship operated like a race run neck and neck. If I had a new pair of shoes I couldn’t wait to show off, Kendall would get the same ones and wear them first. If rumors swirled that a boy she thought was cute liked me instead, suddenly I’d find myself the lone member of our circle not invited to her sleepover. Whenever we’d get assignments back, without fail, Kendall asked what grade I got. If she’d scored higher, she’d flourish her paper and show me. If she hadn’t, she’d say “oh” and turn away without telling me her score.

By the time she and her family moved to Arizona at the end of sixth grade, we’d grown past most of the immature head-to-head, but our relationship had exhausted itself into friendly-but-not-friends status. So the way Kendall stood there, smiling like we were lifelong BFFs, had me wondering if I’d stepped straight into some kind of time warp.

“Right?” Kendall said, apparently oblivious to my speechlessness. “My dad’s job transferred us back last fall. Arizona was amazing, and we met so many great people and did so many cool things, and Dad got promoted, like, three times, but we really missed our family.” She threw her hands up in a ta-da motion. “And here I am. What’s new with you?”

Until she asked the question, it’d never occurred to me how little my life had changed since the last time we saw each other. Sure, my family had moved too, but two towns over, to a slightly larger house. My mom still taught kindergarten, my dad was still a manager at the Big M grocery store, and my brother had shot up to almost six feet tall but still hadn’t grown a filter between his brain and his mouth. I had no life-altering experiences to gush about.

“Not much. Waiting to hear back from colleges, possibly planning a road trip across the country this summer with my best friend. Nothing terribly exciting.”

That part was sort of true. Charlie and I talked about road-tripping all the time, but we never seemed to get further than what kind of food we’d need for the ride.

Her eyes lit up. “Are you kidding? A road trip across the country sounds superexciting! Your parents are cool with it?”

“Uh, yeah, so far.”

“And your boyfriend?”

The corner of my mouth turned up. “Nonexistent, so definitely.”

Kendall slipped her hands behind her with a sheepish expression. “Sorry, dumb question. I’ve been with TJ so long that I forget some people are still single.”

Normally my inner fifth grader would’ve reared her passive-aggressive head at what felt like an obvious jab, but my interest in the other thing she’d said overshadowed my defensiveness.

“Do you mean TJ as in TJ Caruso? The new guy?” I pointed to the school like he was still standing outside, even though I knew he wasn’t.

Something changed in Kendall’s expression, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what. It was like a wall had gone up, though I didn’t know why when she’d been the one to bring up the subject.

“So you know him?” Her words sounded as carefully measured as a cup of sugar.

“I wouldn’t say I know him. He’s on yearbook with me, but he’s pretty quiet, and we’ve only talked about school stuff. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend.”

She scraped the toe of her ballet flat against a loose piece of asphalt and muttered something that sounded like, “Of course not.” I couldn’t help but notice the braided, caramel-colored leather bracelet that wound around her ankle. If I hadn’t been so busy trying to figure out if this was some sort of strange dream, I would’ve been salivating over it.

“So wait,” I said, slipping the remnants of my own bracelet into my bag. “If he’s here, then where are you going to school?”

Her sunny smile returned and she kicked the chunk of asphalt aside, leaving me to wonder if I’d imagined her momentary funk. “Templeton Hall. I applied for the Hartley honors program. All the slots were full when I transferred, but they let me in anyway. Guess I got lucky.”

Color me not shocked at all.

“My friend goes there. I’m actually on my way to her house right now. Charlie, Charlotte Reiser—do you know her?”

The expression that passed over Kendall’s face made me wonder if I’d said the wrong thing.

“Charlie’s in a couple of my classes,” she said. “I’m working with her and Mindy Kishore on a history project, so I also know she’s not home. I’m meeting them at the library as soon as I leave here.”

“Oh. Then can you tell her to call me when you’re done?”

“No problem.” I took a step forward, thinking we were about to say our goodbyes, head to our respective vehicles—hers, I realized, must be the sleek black Volkswagen parked next to the aging gray Hyundai that must’ve belonged to TJ—and go our separate ways. Instead, she blocked my path and pointed to my bag. “So,” she said brightly, “you’re still into crafts, I see.”

I fingered the heart-shaped pin attached to the front pocket. A familiar pang rippled through my chest as the memory of my and Jordan’s first kiss flashed through my mind. For the hundredth time, I thought about ripping off the pin and letting it rust in a smelly landfill, since I couldn’t do as much to Jordan without landing myself in jail.

“It’s a hobby of mine. I mess around with making jewelry—earrings and necklaces and stuff. I have a ton of these pins, so I design and decorate them for people who, um—” Who what? Whose boyfriends cheated on them? I didn’t even know where to go with that thought. “—who like them.” Wow. So that’s what a total sentence fail sounds like. “I was on my way to give Charlie hers, but I guess it will have to wait.”

“You made one for Charlie Reiser? Can I see it?”

The instinct to clutch my bag against my abdomen and refuse kicked in immediately, like I expected her to run off with the pin and somehow claim credit for it. I nearly snorted out loud, silently chiding myself for being so childish. “Uh, okay.”

I fished around inside my bag and placed the pin I’d made for Charlie in Kendall’s waiting hand. She held it close to her face, running her thumb over the tiny red and black crystals I’d arranged into alternating stripes down the length of the heart’s surface. Without taking her eyes off it, she said, “I heard you caught her boyfriend cheating.”

“You did?” I blurted. I had to bite back the How? that threatened to fly off my tongue next.

She traced a row of red crystals with a cream-painted fingernail. “Mindy mentioned it earlier today. Of course, I didn’t realize that she meant Marisa as in you-Marisa, but now it all makes sense.”

Mindy. I loved Charlie’s “Templeton wife,” but sometimes she seriously needed a muzzle. The last thing Charlie would’ve wanted was for Jason’s cheating antics to be public knowledge, and I sure as hell didn’t want anyone knowing that I’d stalked him by hanging from the woodwork outside the house of his side dish.

“I—well, yeah I guess you could say that. It’s kind of why I’m giving her the pin.”

The way Kendall’s eyes snapped up toward me reminded me of a window shade that had been pulled too hard. “Do you give one to everybody you help?”

I didn’t have a clue what she meant by that, and I had to make a conscious effort to keep my facial muscles out of WTF formation. But she was obviously waiting for an answer, so I plucked the pin from her palm and said, “I make them, but it’s because I like to. Going all To Catch a Cheater isn’t really a hobby of mine, so I think the ‘help’ part is a onetime thing.”

“Wait, I can give the pin to her if you want,” she protested as the heart disappeared into my bag.

“No, that’s okay.” I hoisted my bag behind my hip. I didn’t know why I was suddenly picking up an ominous undertone in this conversation, but I was ready for it to be over. “I see her all the time.”

Kendall’s hands twisted near the hem of her skirt. “Then maybe we can hang out sometime? I’ve always hated that we drifted apart. It would be great to start with a clean slate. Like, maybe grab dinner one weekend with Mindy and Charlie? They’re in some of my classes, but I don’t know them very well. I’d like to change that.”

I immediately felt like an ass for suspecting Kendall had an ulterior motive. We weren’t in fifth grade anymore. Why did I always have to assume the worst of people?

“Sure, we could definitely get together sometime.”

And really, there was no reason we couldn’t. We’d had a lot of fun together when we were younger, when we weren’t being petty, and we’d both grown up since then. I found myself thinking I might really like getting to know Kendall again. Everyone deserved a second chance, right?

I didn’t realize I had a smile on my face until I got into my car after Kendall and I exchanged numbers. As I drove home, my mind wandered back to the time I had gone to Myrtle Beach with her family. We’d spent a week collecting shells along the shore, trying and failing to eat Popsicles before they ran down our hands and arms in sticky, melted messes, and laughing like everything we did was the funniest thing ever. The scenes were still playing in my mind like old movies when I walked into the house.

“Hey, Mom.”

I kissed my mother hello as she stood at the stove making soup.

“Hi, sweetheart.” She kissed me back, then cocked her head and studied me. “Everything all right?”

Mom Vision. Never failed.

“I’m fine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure? Did something happen at school?”

“Remember Kendall Keene?”

“Of course I do. What about her?”

“She’s back from Arizona and she goes to school with Charlie. I saw her today.”

My mother’s eyes widened and she blinked a couple times. “Oh,” she said. “That’s…nice?”

I smiled and shook my head and headed toward the stairs. “Yes, Mom. It’s nice.”

I threw my bag on the bed and walked over to my closet. On the top shelf sat a beat-up shoe box of keepsakes: awards, trinkets, my earliest attempts at sketches and crafts, one of which was a necklace I’d made from the shells I’d scavenged in Myrtle Beach with the Keenes. I lifted it from the box with a wistful smile, memories hitting me like the ocean waves. Sure, the trip had started with Kendall opening her suitcase and brandishing an exact copy of my brand-new bathing suit, but when I looked at that necklace with its pearlescent pinks and stark-white swirls, I remembered all the happy memories we’d made on that vacation and how much fun we’d had.

As I replaced the lid and hoisted the box back into my closet, I was suddenly glad for the random turn of events that had brought us face-to-face again.

Maybe they hadn’t been so random at all.