Betsy and Shawna are facing Jordan, and the looks on both their faces are not friendly. I look at Jordan and realize she has that red-cheeked, wide-eyed look that she gets when she’s about to start crying.
“What’s wrong?” asks Edgar.
I nod in their direction. “Jordan and her friends. But it looks like something’s wrong.”
Edgar looks toward them. “Jordan seems upset.”
Shawna’s hands are on her hips now and it looks like she’s confronting Jordan. In fact, it looks like she’s actually yelling at her. Then Jordan just shakes her head and turns and walks away. I can tell by the way she’s walking that she’s extremely upset. Normally she has a very graceful, easy stride that she takes a certain amount of pride in, but she’s flat-out clomping away from those two girls right now.
“I wonder what happened,” I say to Edgar in a hushed voice, almost as if I think they’re listening.
He shrugs. “You never know with those girls.”
I look at him curiously, wondering how on earth he would know anything about those girls? “What exactly do you mean by that?”
He smiles now. “I know you probably think that geeks like me don’t notice what’s going on with the cool crowd, but for your information, we do. We just don’t like to admit it.”
“First of all, you’re not a geek—”
He laughs. “Says who?”
“Says me.”
He nods. “Okay. But I’ve probably had more time to observe the way kids treat each other than you have. And I suspect that Jordan has done something that’s considered unacceptable within the code of the cool crowd.”
“Like what?” I cannot imagine Jordan Ferguson ever doing anything that would be considered unacceptable by almost anyone. That is just not like Jordan.
“Hard to say. But it must be something pretty big for both those girls to turn on her at once. And chances are the whole group will be against her by Monday.”
“No way.” I shake my head. “I’ll bet that it’s all blown over by then. Jordan may have her faults when it comes to loyalty, but let me tell you, if she wants to be your friend, she can be an absolute diplomat at resolving differences. Wait and you’ll see.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Well, you know her better than I do.”
So now I’m curious as to what will play out on Monday. But I suspect that Edgar is all wet when it comes to Jordan and her friends. I mean, really, how could someone like Edgar, a member of the chess club, have the slightest clue as to what goes on in the minds of girls like Jordan’s cheerleading friends? I mean, really, it’s even been pretty much a mystery to me.
twenty-five
EVERYONE IN SCHOOL—OKAY, EVERYONE WHO GIVES A RIP—SEEMS TO know that Jordan has been excommunicated from the cool crowd. However, I don’t get the full scoop until art class, when Felicia finally fills me in.
“Jessie told me that Shawna Frye is fried,” Felicia chuckles at her own lame humor, “because your old buddy Jordan has split up Shawna and Timothy Lawrence. And Shawna and Timothy have been going together since, like, eighth grade.”
“I thought Jordan was going with Caleb Andrews,” I say, revealing to everyone just how totally out of touch I really am.
“No,” says Felicia with an air that’s just slightly superior. “They broke up right after the Harvest Dance. Rumor is that Jordan was just using Caleb to get to Timothy. You know those two guys have been best friends for, like, forever.”
“Best friends?” I consider the possibility of Jordan breaking up another old friendship then just shake my head. Go figure!
Edgar winks at me from across the table. “What did I tell you?”
“Too bad you didn’t lay a wager,” I tease him. “You could’ve cleaned up big time.”
He grins. “Lucky for you I’m not a betting man.”
“So what do you think will happen now?” I ask him.
He seems to consider this. “First of all, I think Jordan will make an effort to keep her position in the group. But that will be tough since she’s the newcomer. I think the group will be divided, but the majority will be on Shawna’s side since she’s got more history with them. There’ll probably be a lot of gossip and backbiting going on. How it ends is anybody’s guess.”
Felicia looks fairly surprised at his perceptive take on this whole thing. “Man, you’re good, Edgar.”
Amy just laughs. “I think Edgar’s been watching too many of those reality-TV dating shows.”
“Or maybe he’s just a better observer of life than some of us,” I suggest. I, for one, am impressed at his ability to figure all this out. But then, Edgar surprises me in a number of ways.
As it turns out, Edgar is right on the money again. It’s really too bad he doesn’t bet. But then maybe God doesn’t approve of that.
But by the end of the week, it looks like Jordan is still standing on the outside. I guess her one consolation is that she and Timothy are still going together. But, to be honest, I never would’ve figured that she’d go for a guy like Timothy. I mean, he’s nice enough, I guess. But he really doesn’t seem like her type. He’s kind of loud-mouthed and rowdy and obviously likes being the center of attention. I just never knew that Jordan liked guys like that. Of course, maybe I never knew Jordan at all.
Every time I see Jordan, she is either (1) glommed onto Timothy like super glue, or (2) looking slightly bummed as she walks down the halls by herself. And I’ll have to admit she seems pretty lonely. As a result I try to be friendly to her, and I say “Hey” whenever I see her, and I even pause sometimes to ask how she’s doing. It’s weird though, because she’s actually taken the time to speak to me lately, which would’ve made me deliriously happy before but seems only slightly satisfying now. I suppose it’s because I don’t need her like I used to. Now I just feel sorry for her. Well, sort of.
Okay, the truth is, I sort of think that she’s probably just getting what she’s asked for. Okay, that might sound mean. But it’s how I honestly feel. I mean I never wanted her to get hurt. Okay, maybe I did way back when I was hurting so badly. But I really don’t want to see her getting hurt now.
Still, I’m thinking, she chose these kids to be her friends, and she knew who they were and what they could do. I’m thinking of all sorts of bad clichés right now. Like she made her bed and has to lie in it, or what goes around comes around. We’ve been talking about the difference between metaphors and clichés in English and I’m still not sure whether I’ve got it right or not. But what I’m saying is that Jordan’s dilemma seems to be a classic case of getting what you asked for and not liking it in the end.
But, knowing Jordan, I’m sure this whole thing could turn around for her any day now. If she’s just patient enough. And I suspect that some of her friends will get bored with their stupid game and just move on. But I could be wrong. Shallow people can be awfully stubborn sometimes.
Anyway, I guess I shouldn’t be terribly surprised when Jordan calls me up the following Saturday.
“Hey, what’s up, Kara?” she says in her same old cheerful voice. I’m slightly taken aback since it’s the exact greeting she always used back when she used to call me, back in the old days when we were still best friends.
“Not much, Jordan. What’s up with you?” I am surprised at how easily I fall back into this old pattern. For a moment, it’s almost like the past couple of months never even happened. Although I’m fairly certain they did.
“Not much,” she answers. “But I was thinking about going to the mall today and wondered if you want to come? I need to get some new shoes.”
Naturally, Jordan knows how I love to go shoe shopping. Not that I have a shoe fetish exactly, but I really do like shoes and have pretty good feet for them if I do say so myself. Even so, I’m not so sure I want to hook up with Jordan again. “I don’t know,” I finally say.
“Oh, come on, Kara,” she urges me. “It’ll be fun. Just you and me, like old times.”
But I’m not so su
re I want the old times anymore.
“Look, Kara,” she says in a more serious voice. “I know I haven’t been much of a friend, but I happen to need a friend now. You know?”
Well, that gets to me and so I agree. “Yeah, sure,” I say. “I guess I wasn’t doing much of anything anyway.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up in about an hour. Okay?”
“You drive?” Oh, yeah, I remember. She turned sixteen last month.
Jordan laughs. “Of course, I drive. And now I’ve even got something to drive.”
So I try not to act too surprised, or even impressed, when Jordan shows up in a light blue VW bug. It’s not a new one, of course, I know that her parents would never spring for something that expensive. But the fact that it’s old only seems to add to its charm.
“This is so cool,” I tell her as I climb in.
She grins. “Yeah, it still needs some work though. And I’d like to get the seats redone. But I like it.”
I try not to feel jealous. I know God does not want me to be jealous. I know this from reading my new Bible. In fact, it’s actually one of the Ten Commandments: do not covet, which is another way of saying “don’t be jealous.” Plus, I must remind myself, if Jordan and I were still best friends I would be the happiest person on the planet for her. Of course, I would also know that I’d benefit from her car almost as much as she would.
Somehow we manage to make light conversation as she drives to the mall. However, I’m not terribly impressed with her driving abilities and almost yell when she runs a yellow light that’s clearly turning red. But I don’t.
“I’d be with Timothy today,” she says, “but he had to go to a basketball clinic this weekend. All the varsity team is there.”
“Oh.”
“Did you hear that we have a chance to go to state this year?”
“In football?”
She laughs. That same tinkling laugh, only different somehow. “No, you idiot, I’m not talking about football. We totally suck at football.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Man, I’ll be so glad when this season is over.”
“When is that?”
“Couple of weeks.”
“Oh.” Now I wish I would quit saying “oh.” But I just don’t seem to have much else to say. This whole experience is feeling a bit surreal and is even starting to unnerve me. Suddenly I realize that I really need to pray. I quickly shoot up a short silent one: Please, God, show me what to do here. I’m not even sure what I expect in return, but the idea of connecting to God is a real comfort to me, and before I know it Jordan and I are walking through the mall just like we used to.
It doesn’t take long before it all begins to feel like old times, and I almost forget everything that’s transpired between us this fall. After several stores, Jordan finds a very cool pair of shoes and then offers to buy me lunch. I agree, figuring it will be a fair deal since I can tell she’s heading straight for the Sushi Bar anyway.
I manage to choke down my sushi, washing it down with a large soda, as I continue to make small talk with Jordan. Mostly I am listening to her going on and on and on about what happened between her and Shawna and Timothy and everyone else who seems to have an opinion about the whole stupid affair. A lot of “she said this . . . ” and “he said that . . . ” and mostly pretty dull.
“But Timothy was ready to break up with her anyway,” Jordan continues. “He said that they’d been history for weeks, but he’d just been putting it off until after the Harvest Dance because he didn’t want to hurt Shawna’s feelings. I tried to explain that to her, but she just wouldn’t listen. It’s so unfair the way the kids are acting like I . . . ”
But I’m experiencing technical difficulties and am unable to focus on her words after several different versions of the same story. It’s just like “blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.” She keeps saying the same words over and over again. And it is so painfully boring! Even so, I am slightly stunned. I mean I can’t believe that I’m actually sitting here thinking that Jordan Ferguson, my old best friend, is actually this incredibly boring. But she is! At least to me. Now I’m beginning to wonder, Who’s changed here? Her or me?
Finally, and to my relief, she is ready to go home. “Thanks for coming with me, Kara.” She turns and smiles that perfect Jordan smile at me. “I’ve really missed you. You know, despite everything that’s happened, you always were the best friend I ever had.”
Now I suppose this should be something of a comfort, but for whatever reason it doesn’t feel quite right to me. I can’t put my finger on it, but something just doesn’t ring true. It’s like a pair of shoes that don’t quite fit, like they look really cool but they’re pinching your toes.
“I’m sorry for the way things went between us,” she continues as we get into her car. “I just didn’t know how to keep it together with you. I mean it’s like you really went out of your way not to fit in with my friends.”
“Maybe it’s just who I am,” I say.
“No, Kara, that’s not it. You’re cool, really, you are. I know you try to hide it sometimes. And I have to say that since you started hanging with those nerdy kids, well, it’s probably even harder to tell. But I know that you’re cool. I’m thinking that if you could just get back to who you used to be, and then start hanging with me again . . . well, things could really change for you. You know what I mean?” I frown now. “I’m not sure. Are you saying you want to be best friends again?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, sure. But you’d have to break it off with your little art club group.” She smiles now. “I mean, I realize they’re probably nice people and all, but really, Kara, it’s time to lose the losers.”
I take in a deep breath and hold it. I’m not actually counting to ten, but perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. Then it occurs to me that I probably don’t really need to get angry at Jordan. Maybe it’s just a God thing, or maybe I’m growing up. But I’m thinking it won’t accomplish anything to explode on her. After all, she’s only doing what she knows how to do best—be her superficial self.
“You know, Jordan,” I begin slowly, calmly. “I happen to like where my life is right now. And I like my new friends too.”
She turns and looks at me, almost running into the back of a car as she does.
“Look out!” I scream and brace myself as she stamps on the brakes and screeches to a stop just in time.
“Sorry,” she says. “Guess I better watch the road. But what did you just say? Did you say that you actually like your nerdy friends?”
“I don’t think of them as nerdy, Jordan. I think of them as interesting and nice. And, yes, I do like them. A lot.”
“You’re kidding, right?” She glances my way then back to her driving, which is a relief since I really don’t want to end up in the hospital today.
“No, I’m not,” I say in a firm voice. I notice she’s frowning now and I suspect I’ve hurt her feelings and I feel a little bit guilty. “But I like you too, Jordan, and I’d still like to be your friend. I’ve really missed you, and your family too. We spent a lot of great years together, you know.”
She nods. “I know. And I’ve missed you too. And I’d really like us to be friends again. To be honest, it’s been kind of lonely lately. I mean Timothy is great and all, but he’s not always that available. And he’s got sports and stuff. I really need a girlfriend to hang with too.”
“I know what you mean.” I’m thinking of Edgar now. He’s a good friend, but sometimes I almost wish he was a girl. Almost.
“And so maybe we can work this thing out,” she says in a happy voice. I notice that she forgets to use her turn signal as she turns down the street to our apartment complex. “But, you’d have to understand that you can’t have it both ways, Kara. I mean you’d really need to lose the losers. I’m not kidding about that.”
“Neither am I,” I tell her. “I can’t give up my friends.”
“Why not?” She pulls in front of the apartments in a fast sto
p and jerks on the emergency brake. “It’s not like any of them are really your best friend, Kara. I mean, whether you know it or not, I watch you guys sometimes and I can tell. Felicia is best friends with Jessie Rubenstein, and that Amy, well, God only knows who she’s best friends with, but I assure you, it’s not you. And certainly that Edgar creep couldn’t be your—”
“Excuse me!” I interrupt in a fairly loud voice. “But Edgar is not a creep. He’s a very good friend. You’re right, he’s not my best friend, but he’s a very good friend.”
“Fine, whatever.” She turns and looks at me, clearly exasperated now. “My point is you don’t have a best friend, Kara. And neither do I. And I think that—”
“Wait a minute,” I say, holding my hands up to stop her. “That’s not true. I do have a best friend.”
She gives me her famous skeptical look now. One brow up, one brow down. Oh, how well I know it. “You honestly have a best friend, do you? Well then, who is it?”
“Jesus,” I say in a calm voice. Surprisingly calm. I am actually impressed.
Now she looks totally stunned. She stares at me as if I’ve completely lost my mind. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”
I shake my head.
“You’re totally joking now, aren’t you? This is a joke. Right?”
“Wrong. It’s the truth. I invited Jesus into my heart, partly because I was so lonely. But when he came inside of me I realized that he’s the best friend I could ever have.”
“No way!”
“Way.”
“This is too bizarre, Kara. Are you actually saying that Jesus Christ is your best friend? I mean, I go to church and I believe in God. But how on earth can Jesus be your best friend? Get real.”
Well, I try to explain it to her, but it becomes quite clear that she really doesn’t want to listen. Finally, I give up. “Look, Jordan, this is just the way it is, okay? Jesus really is my best friend. And I happen to like the other friends I have too. And I’m happy to be your friend again. But I seriously doubt that we’ll ever be best friends. At least not under your conditions.” I open the car door now. Jordan looks completely baffled, as if she cannot believe that I’m actually turning down the fantastic opportunity to be the best friend of Jordan Ferguson, cheerleader and basic cool girl. But the fact is I am. And I’m totally happy about it!
Dark Blue: Color Me Lonely with Bonus Content Page 16