by Cari Simmons
When the girls were sufficiently warmed, Coach Wedderburn said, “All right, ladies. We’re playing eight on eight today, which means two of you won’t start. But everybody without an injury plays, so stay focused on the game and be prepared to get called in.”
Coach started tapping girls’ shoulders, to indicate they should take the field. In the end, Gigi was left standing with Kionna, who’d actually twisted her ankle earlier in the week and wasn’t going to be playing anyway.
Gigi felt defeated as she and Ki took their seats on the cold metal bench.
“The longer you pout, the longer Coach will keep you benched,” Ki advised. Gigi forced her face into a neutral position.
The first half rolled by uneventfully. There was scoring, of course, but it was almost like the teams were taking turns letting the other get the goal. Then, six minutes before halftime, the Songbirds woke up. Finley streaked across the field and shot a clean goal. Then she expertly stole the ball back from the Bumblebees and scored again. Just before the whistle, she made a third goal.
With the Songbirds firmly in the lead, Coach put Gigi in at midfield to start the second half. Gigi looked over to her dad and waved but saw that he and her mom were deep in conversation with Finley’s parents. She was staring at them, trying to figure out what they were saying, when the first ball sailed right past her and into the Songbirds’ goal.
“Look alive, Prince!” Coach bellowed. This, in addition to Gigi’s benching during the first half of the game, made her a prime target for the Bumblebees. Gigi’s defense was weak, and she let another player sail by, setting her up for the goal.
Coach called time. Gigi knew even before she said the words that she was getting pulled from the game.
But then Coach said, “Nguyen and Kirby, I want you to stick by Prince. The rest of you, keep doing what you’re doing.”
“You want us to guard defense?” Kelly Kirby asked.
Coach said, “You heard me.”
Now that Gigi was protected by two seventh graders, the Bumblebees seemed to lose interest in her. She spent the majority of the second half standing there, half wishing the ball would come to her and half praying that it wouldn’t.
The Bumblebees scored again, tying the game seven to seven. Coach called the girls in for a huddle.
“They’re putting too much heat on Stewart,” she said. “Nguyen, you cover her. Kirby, you stay with Prince. Let’s go, girls. I’m confident you can take the win.”
This time, when the Bumblebees came after Finn, she had extra protection from Sunny Nguyen. But it still wasn’t enough. The Bumblebees wouldn’t let Finn anywhere near the goal. So instead of losing the ball, Finn aimed it right at Gigi.
Gigi’s muscles took over when her brain froze at her only thought: Oh no. I have the ball!
She dribbled downfield, past the defensive line. A couple of Bumblebees stood right in her path! Gigi looked right. Kelly was in the clear. Gigi kicked. Kelly caught the pass and drove the ball farther towards the goal. By the time the Bumblebees figured out where the ball was, Kelly had passed it back to Finn, who sank the ball deep in the net.
GOAL!
The crowd went crazy. Everyone spilled out onto the field to congratulate Finn. Gigi half expected them to lift her up and crowd-surf her back to the bleachers. Either that or dump a cooler of Gatorade over her head.
Neither happened, of course. Instead, after the initial melee died down, the Songbirds lined up for the postgame handshake with the Bumblebees. Then people started to peel off and head home. Gigi was trying to find Finn when her dad came up from behind and startled her.
“Nice showing out there, kiddo,” he said.
“You know, I wasn’t half bad, was I?” Gigi smiled. She wasn’t as naturally good at soccer as she was at some other things, but trying hard at something and not giving up, even when it was tough? That was pretty satisfying.
Gigi finally spotted Finn talking to her parents and Coach. She didn’t want to interrupt, so she waited, watching. She was surprised to see Lauren Avila and her mother approach the group. Had they been in the stands the whole time?
Finn got lost in an ever-growing circle of admirers, and Gigi, still bruised from the game, gave up. She’d have to mend fences with Finn another day.
The game had wrapped around three thirty, too early for dinner but prime time for a snack. A lot of the kids headed to the Charcoal Pit for french fries and milkshakes, but to Gigi’s relief, her parents were still full from all the cocoa they’d drank in the stands. They headed home instead.
At home, Gigi went up to her room to change. She thought about calling Miranda but figured it could wait. She didn’t really feel like talking to anyone anyway.
It wasn’t so long ago that Gigi had loved spending time in her room, what with her cozy loft bed, snuggles with Glamour Puss, and the Wall full of memories. But these days, Gigi felt like the Wall was fake. Maybe her dad was right about needing to hit the reset button. Maybe it was time to take down the Wall and start over fresh.
Gigi and her parents settled in to watch a DVD in the family room. Gigi’s mom suggested The Wizard of Oz, to help Gigi prepare for her audition next week. They made a huge bowl of olive oil popcorn, which they shared back and forth while nestled under a large plaid blanket.
Dorothy had just landed in Oz when the doorbell rang. Gigi’s immediate thought was that Miranda had talked her mom into bringing her over to surprise Gigi. Only it wasn’t Miranda on the other side of the door; it was Finn.
“Hi,” she said, almost shyly. “Can I come in?”
“Who is it?” her mother asked.
“It’s Finn,” Gigi said.
“Finley!” Gigi’s dad bellowed. “You’re just in time. We’re about to meet the Munchkins. Pull up a seat.”
Gigi expected Finn to make some excuse or another. Instead she said, “That sounds great, Mr. George. Let me just call my mom and let her know.”
Finley took her usual family movie night spot next to Gigi, pulled the blanket up to her chest, and said, “Can you please pass the popcorn, Ms. Nancy?”
Gigi was stunned. What was going on here? Why was Finn acting like nothing had ever happened? The whole thing left Gigi feeling slightly uneasy, even as she tried to settle into the familiar favorite.
They clapped at the end, just like they always did. Then Gigi’s parents headed into the kitchen to order from their Chinese takeout place. “Want to stay for dinner, Finn?” Gigi’s mom asked.
“Um . . .” Finn looked to Gigi as if seeking her approval.
“Yeah,” Gigi said. “We’re going to head up to my room now, okay?”
For some reason, Gigi thought she’d magically know what to say once they went upstairs, but of course she didn’t. She offered up a lame “You played a really great game today.”
“Thanks,” Finn said. “That’s actually why I came over.”
“Oh?”
Finn took a deep breath and, with her eyes pasted on Gigi’s penguin slipper socks, said, “Coach is moving me up to varsity starting next week.”
“Whoa,” Gigi said, duly impressed. “As a sixth grader?”
“Crazy, right? Lauren says there hasn’t been a sixth grader on varsity—besides her and me, I mean—in at least five years.”
“That’s really awesome,” Gigi said, and meant it.
“That’s not even the best part. Coach is sending four girls to Florida this summer for an elite two-week training camp, and she said that I’m going to be one of them. It’s in Orlando, Gee. Right near Disney World!”
Finn’s happiness was contagious. Without even thinking, Gigi gave her a BFF hug.
“You totally deserve it,” Gigi said.
“You mean it?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“It’s just . . .” Finley sighed. “I’m really sorry about what I said on Friday. I didn’t mean it. I was just—”
“Mad,” Gigi finished for her. “I know. Me too.”
“Do y
ou think we can get past this?” Finn asked.
Gigi paused. “Here,” she said, “let me show you something.”
Gigi went over to her closet and pulled out the plastic bin that held all of the things her dad had brought back from Italy. She sat on the floor and started laying them out around her in a half circle.
“What is all of this stuff?” Finn asked, smiling. She knelt down on the carpet with Gigi.
“This,” Gigi said dramatically, “is our twelfth birthday party. Or at least what I hoped would be our twelfth birthday party.”
Finn looked puzzled. “I don’t get the theme. It’s what? Soccer and lip gloss?”
“Lip balm,” Gigi corrected. “And not just any lip balm. Special Italian lip balm.” She waited patiently for Finn to make the connection. It took a few beats, but then her best friend’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Italy! The theme is Italy!”
“Yes!” Gigi said. “I want to create a mini Italian festival in the backyard, complete with soccer and spaghetti, football and fashion.”
“A little bit me, a little bit you,” Finn said.
“Exactly.”
“You thought of this all on your own?” Finn asked.
“More or less. I realized it didn’t have to be a big battle over who likes what. We just had to find something we both enjoyed. Equally. Even if it wasn’t for the same reasons.”
Finn smiled. “Does this mean we’re not fighting anymore?”
“I don’t know,” Gigi teased. “What part are you going to try out for in The Wizard of Oz? Because if you say Glinda, I’m officially not speaking with you again.”
Finn’s face fell just a little. “None of them,” she said. “Rehearsals are at the same time as my new varsity practice schedule.”
“Oh, right,” Gigi said. “We won’t have practice together anymore.”
“But I’m going to come to all of your games,” Finn said. “I promise.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
The girls were silent for a minute. Then Gigi said, “It’s just going to be so weird. We used to do everything together. Now it’s like we’re not doing anything together.”
“I know what you mean,” Finn said. “But you know what? It doesn’t change the fact that you will always, always be my bestie. I mean, you’re like my sister, Gee. We don’t always need to be in the same place at the same time doing the same exact thing to be connected. Do we?”
As she said the words, Gigi could feel how much Finn meant them. They were true for her too. It was hard for her to let go of the way things had always been, but maybe that was just growing up. It didn’t have to mean the end of the world.
Gigi pointed to the Wall. “I think it’s time.”
“Time?”
“To hit the reset button.”
For the next half hour, Eff and Gee carefully took down each and every scrap of paper from the Wall. Gigi placed the pieces into two giant manila envelopes and gave one to Finn. “What came before was great, but we don’t need to be tied down by the past. From now on, let’s focus on being good friends to each other right now and making some new memories.”
Finn nodded. “Sounds good. Long as I can still come over for our regular Saturday-night slumber parties.”
“Uh, you better,” Gigi joked. “Or I’ll sic Fred the Freckle on you. He’ll whisper words of guilt in your ear while you sleep.”
“Deal,” Finn said. She peeked in her envelope and pulled out the snapshot of the two of them on their first day of pre-K. “We need to make a new addition. Go get your camera.”
Gigi handed it over to Finn. “What exactly are we adding?”
“A new one of these,” Finley said, shaking the preschool photo at Gigi. “In celebration of the new us.”
Finn put her arm around Gigi and crouched a little to be closer to her friend’s height. Gigi had to stand on her toes to get their faces to line up.
They weren’t the same height anymore, they weren’t wearing the same clothes, and they didn’t like all of the same things, either. But the one thing that hadn’t changed—the one thing that would never, ever change, Gigi thought, was the love between them. Gigi knew that now. She wished she had believed in it all along.
Finn extended her arm, the camera’s lens pointing towards them.
“Say it, Gee,” Finn commanded.
Gigi said, “No, you first.”
“We’ll say it together. On the count of three.”
One.
Two.
Three.
“Long live Eff and Gee!”
SNAP!
EXCERPT FROM PICTURE PERFECT #3: BEST FRENEMIES
TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEEK OF PICTURE PERFECT #3
“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” Alice’s mom called out.
Alice tried to suppress a smile, her hand on the latch as she pretended to leave for school.
“The bus stop?” Alice said, all innocence, turning away from the side gate as her mother stood on the back stoop, fists on her hips in pretend sternness.
“Not so fast,” Mrs. Kinney said, and then she and her daughter grinned at each other. Alice’s mom held up a silver camera dangling from her wrist. The two of them had played this little first-day-of-school game since Alice was in kindergarten, when she had begun to march off to the bus stop before learning that a) Kinneys always took photos on the first day of school and b) kindergartners don’t take the bus to school all by themselves. (Although freshly minted middle schoolers—which Alice was today—did!)
“Ready? Say cheese!” Mrs. Kinney said. Alice slumped her shoulders over, crossed her eyes, and stuck out her tongue, first-day-of-school zombie style.
“That pose doesn’t really scream ‘honors student,’” Alice’s dad said, stepping outside with his mug of coffee and his shirt cuffs unbuttoned. Alice smiled, rolled her eyes, stood up straight, and re-posed in a more traditional manner, shaking her long red hair so that it flowed over her shoulders. Her parents could be embarrassing, but sweet—they were so proud of her for getting into honors classes, but really, it wasn’t that big a deal. It’s not like Alice set out to get there. It just . . . happened. Alice heard the fake-shutter sound of the digital camera, but then her mom kept holding the camera up for a few extra moments after taking the picture.
“Everything okay?” Alice asked.
“Oh yeah,” Mrs. Kinney said, and finally lowered the camera, emitting a tiny sniffle.
“Are you crying?” Alice asked in disbelief. “It’s just school, Mom. I’ve done this before. School bus, pens, notebooks, teachers, remember?”
“I know,” Mrs. Kinney said, laughing and running the side of her thumb below her lower eyelashes to collect any mascara that may have dripped. “It’s just . . . five seconds ago you were off to kindergarten. Now . . . middle school.”
“Honors middle school,” her dad said proudly, just as Alice heard the side gate latch. Ugh. Couldn’t Cassidy have come at any other moment?
“Yes, honors middle school,” Alice’s best friend repeated teasingly, entering the Kinneys’ back yard with her own mom behind her. Mr. and Mrs. Kinney beamed with pride, not realizing that there was the teensiest bit of tension between the two girls over this particular detail. Alice and Cassidy had been in the same class ever since the Turners had moved in across the street when the girls were five years old, but this year, while Alice had tested into honors, Cassidy . . . didn’t. Alice knew Cassidy was supportive, but the whole thing still felt a little weird.
It wasn’t that Cassidy wasn’t smart: she had good grades and was funnier than Alice could ever hope to be. Alice just seemed to possess a little extra nerdiness when it came to school, and now, being separated from her best friend and being singled out in general for being “gifted” was her “reward.”
Alice would have been just fine sticking with regular classes, especially since the honors thing had been a source of awkwardness between the two of th
em over the summer. While Alice said things like “I don’t know how I’m going to make it without having you in my class! What if the other kids are mean? Or total dorks? Or worse, totally mean dorks?” Cassidy would say things like “Oh, you’re smart, you’ll figure it out,” followed up by a hasty “I’m just kidding.”
Alice knew, though, that they could move past it with just a bit of time. Being in separate classes just had to become the new normal. Alice needed Cassidy on her side the same way she knew Cassidy needed her, because middle school? Seemed a little scary.
“Cass, get over here,” Alice said, yanking her friend over to pose in a first-day-of-school photo with her.
Cass patted the side of her head with her palm self-consciously. Over the summer she had made the very bold decision to cut off her shoulder-length braids and rock a short natural do. Her mom was thrilled.
“She said, ‘Oh, honey, you look like me from the eighties!’ and I swear she would have started crying a little bit if I didn’t tell her to stop,” Cass reported in her post-haircut debrief earlier that week. Of course, looking like your mom wasn’t exactly at the top of the wish list of any self-respecting middle schooler.
However, with the haircut, Cass did look more confident, more sophisticated. Alice knew for a fact that the new do was going to be a sensation, just like everything Cassidy did. Everyone wanted to be Cassidy’s friend, boys and girls alike, but only Alice could count her as her best friend.
“I remember the first time you girls met.” Cassidy’s mom started to reminisce for probably the third time that week. Getting misty about old times was one of Mrs. Turner’s quirks that Alice adored, along with the never-ending supply of fire-flavored Jolly Ranchers in her purse and the zoomy little white convertible she drove, with the license plate that read HERS.
Mr. Turner was nice and all, but if Alice was going to get a ride home with Cassidy, she always hoped Mrs. Turner would show up in that convertible.