My Best Friend Is a Goddess

by Tara Eglington

  I painted a stripe of yellow on my paper, and then a streak of purple next to it. ‘They’re different, but they look good together. Is that right?’

  Mum kissed me on the head. ‘Perfect!’

  It’s not surprising that I thought I was an authority on art by the time I got to primary school. In fact, the very first time Ade and I ever painted together, when I let her work on my mural, the one with the myriad of sea creatures, I found myself giving her Mum’s complementary colour lecture. I was worried — I knew how colours worked, but she might not. So many kids at school slapped down any old paint during art, and I hated the grubby colours of their canvases. How did I know that Ade wasn’t going to wreck my picture?

  But I wanted to help her. Those girls had been so mean to her, and she was sniffing quietly, so I knew she must have been crying when they ran away from her at break. I’d never really chatted to Ade before, but as art always made me feel better I asked her to help me with my picture.

  After giving her some ‘tips’, I crossed my fingers behind my back as she dipped her paintbrush into the purple paint. I didn’t have to worry. Ade knew where to use the purple, that a red boat in a blue sea was perfect, and that an orange starfish looked way better when it was a mid-orange not vermilion. A week later, she quietly suggested we add a mermaid, and even though it wasn’t an actual real-life sea creature I thought it was an awesome idea. We had the best time painting the mermaid’s scales iridescent shades.

  After that, I let Ade paint whole sections on her own, instead of hovering over her to check she was doing the right thing. We’d paint side by side, focusing on the parts of the painting we felt connected to, stopping every so often to check we were in harmony. Ade was complementary as an art partner, and quickly became just as complementary as a friend.

  As we got older, I realised that was the essence of our friendship. We were total contrasts, but we complemented each other. If I was an energetic yellow, burning up with ideas and curiosity, she was a cool purple, not as immediately bold as the yellow but intense in its own way, rich in complexity.

  Like Mum said, we made each other brighter. My over-the-top enthusiasm balanced out her tiptoe-like hesitation. The moments she took to consider a question before she came out with something insightful made me want to pause more too, instead of barrelling out words like I normally did. She made me less bossy, because I wanted her to have the space to show herself. She showed me patience. I tried to teach her that sometimes distracting yourself was way better than over-analysing a situation.

  The other great thing about being contrasts? We never wanted the same thing. Her bedroom was white fluffy rugs and rose-gold lamps, and mine was a kaleidoscope of colours jumping out at you. She loved One Direction songs that were slow and meaningful; I loved the ones that made you want to dance. She wore her hair in complex braids that her mum styled for her, whereas mine was always a messy ponytail.

  We’ve never competed against each other. If a rare moment comes along where we do want the same thing, it’s always something we want together. New pastels. Concert tickets. Chunky Monkey ice-cream. We’ve never had those tense moments that the other girls seem to, where you can’t wear the same colour hair accessories or buy the same sneakers, where being a ‘copy-cat’ is a sin that can see you excommunicated from your group.

  That stuff seems laughable in relation to our friendship. I look at the girls in our class and think, Can’t you work it out? Who cares if you like the same boy-band member or desperately want the same shirt? Why do you need to claim it all to yourself when your friend could enjoy it too? I can’t imagine making Ade miserable over a stupid thing I might want. I know that if I ever see her longing for something I have, I’d hand it over in seconds. She’s my best friend. My happiness is her happiness, so to me, what’s mine is always hers too.

  It all seems so simple … it’s only later on that I realise I never imagined what would happen if Ade and I both wanted something that couldn’t be shared.

  9

  EMILY

  I know where Adriana’s been, of course. I wonder whether I should have gone over there and joined her. Back when she first started going to the graveyard, I always accompanied her. After her mum passed away, I made it my duty to be her full-time shadow — which I hoped was the best version of ‘I’m here for you’.

  I’m not the type of person who’s freaked out by cemeteries, but every time we were there, I kept flashing back to the funeral. Sofia’s funeral was the first I’d ever attended, and though I knew it was all about honouring her and letting go, the concept of ever having to go to another one was excruciating. If losing Ade’s mum hurt this much — like every limb in my body was cement instead of flesh and blood — then how would it feel when Mum died? She’s my entire family.

  Sitting by Sofia’s headstone made me incredibly restless, like I needed to stand up and shake off all the memories that rushed in at me as soon as I saw her name. It wasn’t like that for Ade — or at least it didn’t seem to be. She told me about Dia de los Muertos, and I understood this was her way of keeping alive her connection to her mum. For her, the grave didn’t seem to be the same one we all stood around that August afternoon.

  So when she told me she wanted to start visiting on her own — more like asked, in that nervous way of hers — I let her. Unfortunately, staying behind meant I had to deal with the school sticky-beaks commenting on Ade’s visits. Why did they think it was any of their business? People would say I should stop her from going, or she should only go once a week, or once a fortnight. It made me so angry that people thought they were allowed to tell someone else how to grieve. That they had the right to label something healthy or unhealthy. What bothered me the most was the judgement masked as concern: ‘So, how is Ade doing? I wanted to check because when I went past the cemetery the other morning, she seemed to be talking to herself.’ Everyone had a ‘should’, so I was determined to be the only one who didn’t.

  I still feel the same, except for a worry that maybe I should have joined her today. After all, going back to her mum’s grave after a long break like this — it’s intense. Then again, maybe she needs the space. If it’s just her and Sofia there, she doesn’t have to filter any emotions. I’m her best friend, but I totally get that sometimes you feel too raw to be around another human being.

  So I sit at our usual spot, on the log at the edge of the schoolyard, and nervously pick at my soba noodle salad for the first fifteen minutes of lunch, until I see her come through the front gates. As she makes her way towards me, her hair is shimmering with countless shades of gold and honey, and her skin has the same warmth — all bronzed goddess.

  I take in the looks she’s attracting, and can tell by Ade’s tiny gestures that she knows people are watching her. One hand is clenched at the bottom corner of her jacket, and I can see her eyes scanning for threats. The rest of her though is like a vision from Mean Girls — you know, the iconic shot where the popular girls come striding down the hallway, miles of long legs and uber-perfect hair? Funnily enough, the fact that Ade’s unsmiling — which I know is due to anxiety — means she has even more of an awe-inspiring air.

  She spots me and smiles.

  I hear a guy yelp from a group nearby, ‘Whoa! She’s smiling at me!’ and a titter of nervous male laughs. I look over and all the guys are either standing up with their chests out, or pressing their upper arms into their sides to emphasise their biceps. I smother a snort.

  Ade glances nervously at them. I can tell she thinks they’re saying something mean about her.

  One of the guys, Owen Hillcrest, is doing chin-ups on the metal bar at a mad speed. He pauses and raises an unsteady arm. ‘Adriana, hey.’

  Adriana looks disconcerted, but gives him a nod. I see out of the corner of my eye that Owen has toppled down from the bar, but his friends are giving him triumphant high-fives for getting Adriana’s attention.

  Ade sits down on the log next to me. ‘How long do you think it’s going to
be before everyone stops staring?’

  My brain says ‘never’, because it’s inevitable that people are going to want to look at her — here at school, at the mall, at university, everywhere she goes — because looking at her is like looking at something mythical, like Aphrodite, or Helen of Troy. It’s the same with any beautiful person. It’s like they’re a magnet and the rest of us are shards of metal — we can’t help being drawn in. I can’t stand Tatiana, and yet there were moments when I’d find myself staring at her, wondering what it would be like to look that perfect.

  ‘No-one’s been mean to you, have they?’ I ask, even though I doubt it. None of the guys would want to shoot himself in the foot, and any girl would probably be too thrown to summon up any ‘Graveyard Girl’ or ‘Puke-a-rama’ comments. The whole Ade transformation is so dramatic that it leaves you temporarily speechless, like when I first saw her at the airport. Our classmates’ concept of Ade has been flipped. She looks like a Ten, and you don’t bother a Ten.

  My only worry is that after the shock wears off, the girls might get weird. Ade is now undoubtedly the most beautiful girl in our year. Probably in the entire school. The boys know it already — I’ve heard the whispers about Ade’s transformation all morning. The guys are flabbergasted, and daring each other to talk to her. The girls are still confused. Is that really Adriana? After all, she looks so different. There’s no way that’s not going to cause some issues. Inevitably there will be some jealousy.

  ‘Amazingly, no,’ Ade says. ‘They keep staring, which I guess is to be expected with the sudden reappearance. But no-one’s said anything. The only super-weird thing was James Mathers — you know the tall, sporty guy that was in our video production class? — I swear he winked at me when he went past my locker. I was paranoid that I had food on my face, or gum in my hair, but when I went to the bathroom to check, there was nothing there.’ She shakes her head. ‘Nothing about me looks stupid, does it?’

  I wonder how long it’s going to take her to reboot her ‘Ade is ugly’ program. She’ll have to realise before long. I mean seriously, even if you slapped a double-chin filter over her on Snapchat, she’d still look like a Miss Universe candidate.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘You look great.’

  She smiles. ‘You are going to be so proud of me. I didn’t have a hide-in-the-bathroom moment before my first class.’

  That is a fresh start for her. ‘Ade, that’s awesome —’

  ‘Because I had an escort to class!’ Her voice is bubblier than I’ve heard it in years. ‘I’m calling him The Cutest Guy, because he’s the cutest guy I’ve ever seen, and Em, he’s so nice. He asked to walk with me to class!’ She shakes her head in disbelief. ‘And that meant the whole horrible “I’m back” moment was over and done with. Because I was with him, nobody dared to say anything.’

  The separate classes thing was killing me. ‘I can’t believe I missed that! That is an unbelievable way to start the term. And I know I’m being a total Kanye, jumping in here and being all “Imma let you finish”, but I met a guy as well!’

  The effort of holding the news in so long means the last bit of my sentence comes bursting out super-loud. The group of guys nearby look over.

  ‘Good luck with that one,’ Ben McNealy scoffs.

  Ha-ha-ha, freckly Emily likes a guy. God, I hate high-school boys. ‘Good luck with that haircut,’ I throw back. ‘Bieberific, huh?’

  ‘You met a guy?’ Ade looks shocked.

  I give her a look. ‘You too? Quasimodo can’t have a crush?’

  She frowns. ‘I hate it when you call yourself that. I’m surprised because I thought you’d blacklisted high-school boys entirely, but now you’re telling me you have a genuine crush on a guy that goes to this school?’

  ‘We are officially entering co-crush land!’ I let out a train-like woop woop.

  The boys roll their eyes and go back to talking amongst themselves.

  Adriana gives me a hug, then makes a sad face. ‘The disappointing thing about my crush is that it’s the definition of hopeless. He’s on another level, Em. Like not even on the scale of normal boy attractiveness.’

  ‘Same!’ I cry, even though I know there’s no way Ade’s crush won’t fall for her. She could have an actual boyfriend by the end of term. The idea makes me feel elated but also a bit scared. I’m not used to sharing Adriana with anyone. ‘My guy is ridiculous. He shouldn’t even be here — he should be off shooting a commercial or something.’

  ‘My guy is super-nice though,’ Ade says. ‘Even though he looks the way he does, he doesn’t seem conceited. He spent the whole walk to class asking me questions about myself. But wait a minute, your guy is super-hot? You’re not into super-hot!’

  ‘I know!’ I yelp. I’m still stunned at my own about-face. ‘But this one can talk. More than talk — he’s an art enthusiast.’

  Adriana looks thrilled. ‘Em, that’s perfect, it’s like —’

  ‘Like my daydream, right? Ade, it was to the script. Me doodling, stranger makes insightful comment about art, I look up and boom! Instant attraction. He told me I had violet eyes. Violet eyes.’

  ‘Em, my guy caught me in his arms.’

  I half-scream at this. ‘Sorry. I’m all-out losing the plot this morning. This isn’t high school as we know it. How did you wind up in his arms?!’

  ‘Your orange.’ She giggles. ‘The one that slipped out of your bag? You never picked it up, and when I came out of Call Me Sam’s office I slipped on it and The Cutest Guy caught me.’

  ‘My clumsiness led to your paths crossing?’ I punch the air in triumph. ‘That’s the type of moment that winds up in maid-of-honour speeches.’

  Ade’s face is flushed. ‘He’s got to have a girlfriend. You can’t look like that and be single.’

  I suddenly feel depressed. That has to be the case with Theo as well. Or if it isn’t, give it a few weeks and I’ll be watching as he falls in love with an equally beautiful specimen.

  I notice that the excitement is fading from Ade’s eyes too, which is crazy. If she could see what I can, she’d know she’s in with an excellent chance.

  ‘Ade, he could easily be single. Give me his name and I’ll be able to tell you.’

  ‘I don’t know! I didn’t get it before I walked into class, which was so stupid.’

  ‘Stop stressing! We’re sure to spot him sometime, and then I’ll give you a name.’

  ‘No, he’s new. You won’t know it yet.’

  I barely hear her because suddenly Theo is strolling towards us. I feel like dozens of colours have exploded inside my chest and they’re radiating through my limbs like liquid sunshine.

  Unbelievably, he sees me and raises his arm in greeting, a smile of recognition slipping onto his face. I wave back, knowing my smile is probably bordering on scarily enthusiastic. All I want is for him to come over and talk to me again, even though I’m shaking inside at the idea of it.

  ‘That’s him!’ Ade whispers next to me.

  She knows my type that well? This is best-friend psychic stuff.

  ‘Ade, how did you know —’

  Then I realise her arm is up in a wave too, and the same sappy grin that was on my face is written all over hers. Except on her it’s adorable — baby-animal adorable, the type of thing that would be featured in a Buzzfeed post called Twenty tiny creatures who will melt your heart.

  ‘Em, that’s him, that’s The Cutest Guy!’

  Oh no. We have completely entered co-crush land.

  I look from Adriana back to Theo and my insides lurch as I wonder, is that beaming grin and enthusiastic wave meant for me or for her?

  It’s the same guy. Theo is Adriana’s ‘The Cutest Guy’. The image of Theo waving and Adriana beaming back, while I stare with hopefully concealed horror, plays over and over in my mind as Adriana and I rush to our first afternoon class.

  All I keep thinking is: I should have known. The odds of there being two stratospherically attractive guys in our year? Stupidly sl
im. But in the midst of our excited relaying of our same-day crushes, the possibility that we were talking about the same person never crossed my mind. We’ve been crushing on boys since we were twelve and this has never happened before. I’ve always deemed Ade’s crushes an odd choice, and she’s always been equally perplexed by mine. That’s how it works.

  Theo has broken the system.

  Because the bell for end of lunch rang just after my realisation, Theo didn’t have a chance to come over to us. Some sick part of me keeps thinking, What if the bell hadn’t rung — who would he have come over to? Obviously we were both sitting in the same spot, but if he had come over, he would have shown more interest in one of us. I’ve seen it before when guys approach girls in groups. They might talk to all of the girls, but there’s always one they lean a little closer to, laughing that little bit louder at her jokes than anyone else’s.

  That girl would have been Ade.

  I know it’s the truth. Every boy in the yard wanted to talk to Adriana, so why would Theo be any different?

  A tiny part of me fights the idea. What about his ‘violet eyes’ comment? What about our electric conversation?

  You heard him say it — he gets carried away with his monologues. Remember, he was embarrassed after staring at you. He was probably worried he was leading you on.

  Suddenly I’m embarrassed about the two hours I spent thinking I had some kind of deep connection with Theo. Embarrassed that I hyped it up to Adriana.

  For the first time ever, I regret telling my best friend something. It’s one thing for Adriana to crush on a guy like Theo, but me? It’s ludicrous. He is way, WAY out of my league.

  ‘Hey, Ade?’ I say as we reach the gym hall where our dancing class is being held. ‘You know The Cutest Guy?’ I can’t not acknowledge it’s the same guy — we always tell each other everything.