Best Friend Next Door

by Carolyn Mackler

  Emme and I first stop by the water cooler at the end of the hallway. I had no idea my mouth was so dry. I’m feeling better after downing two cups of water, and Emme looks slightly steadier, too.

  But then we walk into the waiting room and there, sitting on the couch, is Alexa Morris playing on an iPad. She’s all by herself, no parent or pet in sight.

  Great. Just great. Alexa was one of the girls in Ms. Linhart’s class who was mean to Emme. Gina was the worst, but Alexa wasn’t much better. Who knows? Maybe she was even the one who wrote LOSER on Emme’s collage.

  I glance at Emme. I expect her to drop her water cup or turn away, but she stares right at Alexa and says, “Why’re you here?”

  Alexa is so surprised that her mouth hangs open. She twists a rubber band on her wrist and says, “Uh, my dad is the vet. Dr. Morris.”

  Duh. Of course. Dr. Morris. Alexa Morris. Red hair. Big teeth.

  “My cat is really sick,” Emme says, sitting on a chair across from Alexa. “Your dad is in there with him.”

  “That’s good,” Alexa says. “He’s really good.”

  I sit next to Emme. None of us say anything. I wonder what Emme is thinking. She doesn’t seem shy like she used to whenever Alexa and her crew sat near us in the cafeteria.

  “You were awful last fall,” Emme suddenly says to Alexa. “You made moving here really hard for me.”

  I don’t know who is more shocked, me or Alexa. I’m staring at Emme, completely in awe. Alexa is staring at the ground like she’s going to cry.

  “It’s not like I want you to say sorry,” Emme says. “I’m just saying you should think about how you treat people. And people’s stuff, too. I liked that collage. I was making it with my cousin.”

  Alexa’s eyes are bloodshot and she’s wiping at her nose. She reaches for a tissue, but then shreds it in her hands. “I’m not friends with Gina anymore if that’s what you’re wondering,” she whispers. “Neither is Haley.”

  Emme nods. I stare at the clock on the wall. Time is slowing down again.

  “I hope your cat is okay,” Alexa says.

  “Me too,” Emme says.

  “He will be,” I say, squeezing Emme’s hand. “I know he will be.”

  I’m not usually such an optimist, but I’m going to act like one until Emme’s ready to be one again.

  It turns out Butterball has diabetes. Emme thought he was losing weight because of the diet cat food and his new exercise routine, but he was actually getting sick all along. Dr. Morris told us that he had something called ketoacidosis, which is a medical way of saying his body was starting to shut down. Luckily we got him to the vet quickly, and Dr. Morris thinks he’s going to pull through.

  The bad news is that he’ll have to stay at the vet’s office for the next few days, receiving medicine through a tube they put in his paw. They have rooms in the back. They keep the dogs in a separate room so the other animals aren’t traumatized by barking. When we went to say good-bye, Butterball was in a cage right next to a cat who’d had surgery, and above an iguana with a broken arm. Butterball had tape around his paw where the tube was going in, but he didn’t seem to mind. He nuzzled his nose into my hand, and Emme thought she heard him purring.

  The good news is that diabetes is treatable. I told Emme how Margo’s dad, my Pop-Pop, has diabetes. He just has to be careful about what he eats, and give himself insulin injections every day. When Emme heard that, she practically passed out, but Julia assured her that she wouldn’t be the one giving Butterball his shots.

  I’m sleeping over at Emme’s house tonight. Uncle Peter said it’s okay. The crazy thing is, Margo hasn’t had the baby yet even though she’s been at the hospital for nine hours. Julia talked to my dad and he said everything is fine, that some babies take longer to come out than others. Even though they’re all reassuring me that it’s okay, I’m so worried about Margo. She just officially became my mom. I don’t want anything to happen to her.

  Claire makes us stir-fry for dinner and we watch some shows. Around nine thirty, I roll out a sleeping bag on Emme’s floor and Emme climbs into her bed.

  This feels like it’s been the longest day of my entire life.

  As I’m adjusting my pillow, I think about how many times I slept in this room back when Sophie used to live here. That makes me think about what happened at Deepwoods. I’m so glad Emme and I made up.

  Emme turns out the light. I’m just starting to fall asleep when she says, “Are you excited about the baby coming?”

  When she says that, my heart flutters nervously. I’m about to say, Sure, whatever, but then I decide to tell her the truth. There’s something about being in the dark that makes it feel okay to open up.

  “Ever since I heard that my parents were having a baby,” I say, “I’ve been dreading it. And now it’s finally happening.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me about it for so long?”

  “I guess so.” I pause for a second. “I actually found out that Margo was pregnant, like, five minutes before you moved in. I was on the side porch to get away from them when you guys pulled up.”

  “That explains a lot,” Emme says.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Want to hear the funny thing? I would love a little brother. Sometimes being an only child, it feels like my moms are watching me all the time. Like, I wish they were distracted with another kid.”

  “You can have him,” I mutter.

  When Emme doesn’t say anything, I take a deep breath. “I’m also a little excited. I’m just worried they’ll love him more than they love me. Maybe that sounds stupid, but it’s true. Also, I don’t want to have to deal with dirty diapers and crying and the baby spitting up milk all over the place.”

  I can hear Emme rolling over in her bed. “I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  “When the baby gets to be too much, you come over here. This can be your place to escape. A baby-free zone.”

  I nod in the dark. A baby-free zone sounds nice.

  “Also,” Emme says, “remember how we agreed to share Butterball last fall, and you said you’d help me take care of him?”

  “Yeah.” Thinking about Butterball makes my stomach flip over. I can’t believe he and Margo are both in the hospital right now.

  “I can help you take care of the baby,” Emme says. “I can be like a bonus big sister to him. We can teach him things and deal with gross spit-up together and when your parents are getting annoying with the baby love, we can tell them to chillax with taking photos every two seconds.”

  “Chillax?” I ask.

  Emme laughs. “Chill. Relax.”

  “Is that something your cousin Leesa says?”

  “Nope,” she says. “It’s an Emme original.”

  After a few minutes, I hear Emme’s steady breathing. I thought it was going to take forever to fall asleep, but I close my eyes and I’m out in four seconds.

  In the morning, Claire knocks on the door. She told us last night that she was going to take a vacation day from work today.

  “Do you want baby news or cat news?” she asks, walking to the window and opening the curtain. It’s gray out, but still bright.

  Emme sits up in bed and rubs her eyes. “Baby news.”

  “Yeah, baby news,” I say, wriggling out of my sleeping bag. After Emme and my talk last night, I’m feeling better about this new baby.

  Claire grins and holds out her phone. “Your dad is waiting for your call.”

  I take the phone and stare down at it.

  “Do you want privacy?” Claire asks. “Emme and I can step out for a minute.”

  “No, that’s okay. Actually, please stay in here.”

  As the phone is ringing, I can barely breathe. But it’s not like before, when I was upset. This time it’s because I’m excited.

  “Claire?” my dad says into the phone. “Is Hannah awake?”

  “It’s me, Dad,” I say. As soon as I hear his voice, I can’t stop smiling.


  “Hey, honey!” my dad says. “Margo had the baby around midnight. He’s healthy and they’re both doing great. I’d put Margo on except she’s sleeping.”

  “What’s his name?” Emme whispers, tugging on my hand.

  “Shhh,” Claire says.

  “What’s his name?” I ask my dad.

  “Thank you,” Emme says, falling back on her bed.

  “Spencer,” my dad says. “Spencer Strafel. All he needs now is a middle name.”

  “Spencer,” I tell Emme.

  “So cute!” she says, sitting up again.

  “Shhh,” Claire says. “Seriously.”

  “What does he look like?” I ask.

  My dad groans and says, “To us, he’s adorable. He barely has any hair. Honestly, he looks a little like an alien. I guess you predicted that one.”

  I have to laugh.

  “As soon as we hang up, I’ll text a picture to Claire’s phone.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Good-bye!”

  “Hannah?” my dad asks. “I love you. I’ll see you later this morning, okay?”

  “I love you, too. Now good-bye. Send a picture.”

  We hang up and a second later a text appears on Claire’s phone.

  “Can I look at it?” I ask.

  “Of course!” Claire says.

  Emme scrambles over and we both study the screen.

  “He’s so small,” Emme coos.

  “Not that small,” Claire says. “He was eight and a half pounds.”

  I look at the picture of Spencer’s face. He’s wearing a striped hat pulled low over his forehead. Actually he doesn’t look at all like an alien. He has a tiny baby nose and pink lips and his eyes are open. His expression looks confused, like who am I and what am I doing here? It makes me want to give him a kiss and tell him everything will be okay.

  “Congratulations on becoming a sister, Hannah,” Emme says.

  I’m about to say former only child, but instead I just say, “Thanks.”

  They’re both staring at me and grinning, so I say, “What about cat news?”

  “Yeah, how’s Butterball?” Emme asks.

  “So much better,” Claire says. “We just talked to Dr. Morris and he went in early to check on him. His vitals are good and he’s even drinking water. He’s going to be okay. We can visit him anytime this morning.”

  Emme exhales slowly. I snuggle back into my sleeping bag.

  Once Claire leaves, Emme asks, “What if we made a mistake and brought catnip to your brother and a rattle to Butterball?”

  “Or diapers to Butterball!” I say.

  “And a collar with a little bell for Spencer!” Emme says.

  I start laughing, and Emme laughs along with me. Pretty soon, we’re laughing so hard our eyes are watering and we’re rolling around on her bedroom floor.

  People hospital or animal hospital first?” Mom J says at breakfast.

  “People hospital!” Hannah and I shout at the same time.

  Mom C made us a huge breakfast. Blueberry pancakes, sausages, grapefruit cut in half, even some of the applesauce that Mom J and I canned in the fall. Hannah and I both have our plates piled high. We picked at the stir-fry last night and didn’t even have dessert, so we’re crazy hungry now.

  Hannah’s uncle had to go to work this morning, so Mom J and Mom C are driving Hannah to the hospital. My moms said they could arrange for Hannah’s dad to meet her in the lobby and bring her up to see Margo and Spencer, in case she wanted family time, but she said she wanted me to come with her. We’re in this together, after all. I’m so excited about being a bonus sister. Plus, I’ve never seen a nine-hour-old baby before!

  Once we’re done eating, we clear our plates and then Mom J comes out of the bathroom with her downstairs thermometer (yes, she has now purchased one to keep upstairs as well).

  “What’s that for?” I ask, dodging her as she’s coming toward my ear.

  “I want to make sure you’re both healthy,” she says. “Newborns are very susceptible to colds.”

  “Good idea,” Hannah says. “We also have to wash our hands a lot.”

  As Hannah offers her ear to Mom J, I realize how much she sounds like a big sister all of a sudden.

  We’re both fever-free (as if I didn’t know that) so I go up to my room to get dressed and Hannah runs to her house for fresh clothes. My moms recently told me that we’re going to Captiva Island for spring break to visit friends, but Greeley is actually feeling like my home now. I pull on a pair of jeans and the long-sleeve orange shirt that Mom J got me at the Gap and then glance in the mirror. I love the blue streak in my hair. I can’t wait to go back to school on Monday and see what people say about it.

  When I get downstairs, Hannah is in the kitchen. She’s wearing the exact same long-sleeve orange shirt that I am.

  “No way!” I say. “No. Way.”

  Hannah looks over at me. “No way! When did you get it?”

  “Wednesday,” I say. “At the mall.”

  “Me too!” she says.

  We both crack up. What a totally Og Twins occurrence. It reminds me of that first day we met, how we both had on the same tie-dye tank top. I actually tried mine on recently and it was too small.

  On the way to the hospital, Hannah is chewing her nails and tapping one foot against the car floor. That’s what she does when she’s nervous. I keep trying to distract her, but it’s not working.

  “I’ve got a good palindrome,” I say. “As I pee, sir, I see Pisa.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Hannah says, groaning. “That just made me want to pee.”

  “Now you’re turning into me!”

  We pull into the circular driveway in front of Greeley Memorial Hospital. My moms drop us off, and then they drive to a deli to get sandwiches for Hannah’s parents.

  We step into the elevator and Hannah pushes 10. Mom C told us that that’s the baby floor.

  On the ride up, I say to Hannah, “Have you decided?”

  Hannah knows exactly what I’m taking about. “The way I see it,” she says, “there are three or four palindrome boys’ names. There’s Bob, of course.”

  “But that doesn’t sound like a baby,” I say. “That sounds like a fifty-year-old fisherman.”

  Hannah nods. We’re now passing the third floor. We have seven more floors to decide.

  “What about Izzi?” Hannah asks. “Or Natan.”

  “Pretty good,” I say. Now fifth floor. Now sixth floor. I know Hannah wants to have this figured out before she sees Spencer. “What about Otto?”

  “Otto,” Hannah says. “Spencer Otto Strafel.”

  We’re just coming up to nine. “His initials would be S.O.S.”

  “Which is cool,” Hannah says.

  “And also happens to be a palindrome,” I add.

  The elevator dings at ten.

  “That’s perfect,” Hannah says as the doors open.

  We step off the elevator and walk down the hall, arm in arm, to meet Hannah’s little brother and give him his middle name.

  A huge thanks to my kid advisory crew: Miles Rideout, Equem Roël, Remy Roël, and Laura Jayne Grant.

  Thanks to the adults, too: Jonas Rideout, David Levithan, Jodi Reamer, Anne Dalton, Kelly O’Neill Levy, Deb Grant, Melanie Levy Fagelson, Maxine Roël, Myrna Gunning, Barbara Stretchberry, Kristi Thom, and Adriane Frye.

  Thanks to The JCC in Manhattan for letting me watch swim team practice.

  Thanks to Stephanie Rath, the original best friend next door.

  And a special thanks to Leif Rideout, who really wanted me to write a book about pandas.

  CAROLYN MACKLER is the Printz Honor–winning author of many books for young adults, including The Future of Us (written with Jay Asher) and The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things. She was born in Manhattan, where she still lives with her family.

  For more about Carolyn, visit

  www.carolynmackler.com.

  Copyright © 2015 by Carolyn Mackler

  All rights
reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014947740

  First edition, June 2015

  Cover photography © 2015 by Michael Frost

  Cover design by Elizabeth B. Parisi & Mary Claire Cruz

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-70947-7

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