Best Friend Emma

by Sally Warner

  “I think Kry is a cute name, Annie Pat,” Cynthia says, as if Annie Pat has just insulted Kry by asking the question. Cynthia scowls in her almost-friend’s defense.

  “Me, too,” Fiona and Heather chime in—though more to please Cynthia than to flatter Kry, in my opinion.

  “Who said it wasn’t?” I ask, defending Annie Pat.

  Kry laughs. “I got my nickname from my two big brothers ‘cause I was supposedly such a crybaby when I was little,” she says, answering Annie Pat’s question. “Wah, wah, wah. Every little thing! Like if the dog wouldn’t let me dress him up in doll clothes, or if I didn’t get the first pancake on Saturday morning, or if I couldn’t find one of my Barbies.”

  “That’s just darling, Kry,” Cynthia says, beaming in a possessive way.

  “Yeah,” Fiona and Heather echo weakly.

  More kissing-up—from all three of them. It’s really revolting.

  “How did you get your nickname?” Kry asks Annie Pat. She’s not just being polite, either. She sounds as if she really wants to know.

  And even I have never asked Annie Pat this important question! That makes me feel kind of bad.

  Annie Pat blushes, which is a very easy thing to do when you have red hair. “My real name is Anna Patrice Masterson,” she tells Kry—and the rest of us. “Those were my grandmothers’ names, Anna and Patrice.”

  “They sound like grandma names,” Cynthia mutters very softly, and Annie Pat blushes some more. But Kry won’t hold what Cynthia said against us, I reassure myself, because I don’t think she even heard.

  “Shut up,” I tell Cynthia anyway—because she can’t insult my best friend that way.

  Cynthia draws back, all fake-innocent and everything. “I didn’t say anything,” she protests, holding her hands up in the air.

  What a liar!

  But Kry is looking at me a little nervously, as if she’s not sure what to expect next from such a hot-head.

  “You shut up, Emma,” Heather says to me. Her long hair is pulled back so tight into its high-up ponytail that she can probably barely blink. Heather sneaks a wide-eyed glance at Cynthia to see if she notices how loyal she is being.

  “Yeah,” Fiona croaks. “Stop being so mean, Emma.”

  Me? Mean?

  “See, Emma’s always starting fights,” Cynthia pretend-explains to Kry. “But we try to be nice to her, because I guess she can’t help it. Her parents are divorced,” she whispers, pulling Kry gently away from the picnic table just a few seconds before the bell rings.

  Kry gasps, and she shrinks away from Cynthia’s hand.

  She’s horrified about the divorce, I guess.

  And for some reason, I can barely catch my breath. In fact, I feel as though I am about to start crying. I never knew that being a divorced kid was so bad!

  Maybe this was why Cynthia didn’t want to be friends with me anymore.

  “Come on, Emma,” Annie Pat says softly. “We’d better get going. Class is about to start, and we don’t want Ms. Sanchez yelling at us.”

  I stumble along next to Annie Pat, thinking, So what if my parents are divorced?

  Why is Cynthia using this against me?

  And I also think about the battle for Kry Rodriguez.

  Was this the end of round two? I didn’t even know it had started!

  7

  A Fight with the Wrong Person

  This is all Annie Pat’s fault, I tell myself later in the morning as Corey Robinson staggers zombielike to the board for some more double-digit subtraction. If Annie Pat’s real name wasn’t so dumb and—and grandma-like, this never would have happened.

  And it’s my mom’s fault, too—for getting divorced! I never knew it would rub off on me this way. But now that Kry knows all about my messy family, she will never want to be my friend.

  Unless I think of something fast.

  “Hey, Kry,” I say, sprinting over to where she is sitting one second after the lunch bell—buzzer, really—rings. Or buzzes. “Can you come over to my house on Saturday? Because my mom wants to treat us to lunch at a really fabulous place and then take us to a really cool movie. We can even drive over and pick you up at your house.”

  This will be news to my mother, but once I explain what happened this morning, she’ll go along with it. I hope.

  Kry blinks, surprised. She has very pretty eyes the color of acorns, and flappy black eyelashes that look like long, delicate, caterpillar legs. “Saturday? Sure,” she says, breaking into a wide smile. “Okay. What time? And do you know where I live?”

  “You can tell me later,” I say, because Annie Pat—Anna Patrice—is tugging at my sleeve. I try to shake her away for a second so I can finish talking to Kry.

  I hope Cynthia is watching this!

  “What?” I finally say to Annie Pat, whirling around, because she just won’t leave me alone. But it’s okay, because Kry has just waved goodbye and has gone to get her lunch.

  “What do you mean, ‘What’?” Annie Pat asks me. Her face is pink, and she looks really mad. At me.

  At me! What did I do? I shrug to show Annie Pat how confused I am.

  “You—you asked that new girl over on Saturday,” Annie Pat says, tears gathering in her navy-blue eyes.

  “So what?” I say. “You can come, too. I was going to invite you, in fact,” I add, fibbing a little.

  I mean, I probably would have thought of inviting Annie Pat eventually, only I hadn’t exactly gotten around to it yet.

  But Mom is going to freak, being suddenly asked to take three girls to two expensive places in one day. She probably thought we would just take a nice long inexpensive walk that day, and then maybe do the laundry or something.

  And usually that’s fine with me, because we both love peace and quiet.

  “You were already gonna spend Saturday with me,” Annie Pat says, her tears spilling over.

  “Huh?”

  “Marine Universe,” Annie Pat says, hissing the words like a beaked sea snake, her favorite venomous creature.

  Oh, no. “I forgot all about it,” I say, the words barely making it past my suddenly dry lips.

  “You forgot?” she says, almost squealing. “But you said you really wanted to go. And we were gonna do some research. Marine Universe is my favorite thing in the whole wild world!”

  (Annie Pat says things such as “whole wild world” instead of “whole wide world.” It’s one of the things I really like about her.)

  “And we were going to treat you to the whole thing,” Annie Pat continues. “And we’ve been planning it for, like—like, six whole months!”

  “Two and a half weeks,” I say, correcting her. Because I didn’t even know Annie Pat six months ago. Six months ago, I was minding my own business at Magdalena School for Girls, which is many miles away. For all I knew then, Oak Glen didn’t even exist.

  “Shut up,” Annie Pat says, clapping her hands over her ears.

  “No, listen,” I say urgently. I try to pull one of her hands away so that she will hear me, but she’s pretty strong for the second-littlest girl in the third grade. “Listen, Annie Pat,” I repeat. “We could ask Kry Rodriguez to go with us to Marine Universe. That would really impress her. It would be awesome!”

  And Cynthia could never compete with that, I congratulate myself silently. Again, score!

  “I don’t want to impress her,” Annie Pat says, stomping her foot. “Who cares about Kry Rodriguez? She’s not even a scientist like us. She’d just ruin the whole thing.”

  Whatever happened to my battle with Cynthia Harbison? I am suddenly having a fight with the wrong person.

  “Kry wouldn’t ruin it,” I say, trying to convince Annie Pat to see things my way. “And she’d be so happy to be invited that she’d want to be my friend. Our friend, I mean. Because I’m doing this for you, Annie Pat,” I add, desperate.

  This is not exactly the truth, but it could be.

  I mean, Annie Pat doesn’t know it’s a lie. So maybe she’ll go for it.
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  But Annie Pat stomps her foot one more time, which is never a good sign with her. “You were our guest,” she reminds me angrily. “And a guest doesn’t get to invite other people along. Especially not for the whole day—and when it’s such an expensive treat.”

  Oh. I never thought of it like that. I guess she kind of has a point. “But—but what can I do, Annie Pat?” I ask, holding my hands out in a helpless way. “I already invited Kry to do something on Saturday! And I can’t back out now. I can’t just un-invite her, can I?”

  “Don’t even worry about it, Emma,” Annie Pat says, suddenly as cool as an emperor penguin—in spite of the tear tracks on her cheeks. “You and what’s-her-name can do whatever you want, because I take back my whole invitation to you. So there!”

  And then she turns around and leaves.

  8

  Round Three

  It’s not fair that Annie Pat is so mad at me. I didn’t mean for anything this bad to happen! I just sort of forgot about Marine Universe on Saturday, that’s all. Isn’t a person allowed to forget something every so often? Am I supposed to be perfect?

  And anyway, I was trying to make friends with Kry Rodriguez for us—me and Annie Pat—so we’d be even with Cynthia, Fiona, and Heather.

  Annie Pat didn’t even look at me the whole rest of the day. But I am willing to forgive her for that, so why can’t she forgive me?

  And now, on top of all my other problems, I have to convince my mom—who worries about spending too much money when we use up toilet paper too fast—to take Kry Rodriguez and me out on Saturday for a fabulous lunch and a really cool movie. Ka-ching!

  “Mom?”

  “Mmm?” my mother answers, fiddling with her turquoise necklace as she gazes at her computer screen. She is not really listening to me. The cozy Thursday-night smell of our meatballs-and-mashed-potatoes dinner hangs in the air, and our stomachs are nice and full, and she’s busy with work.

  Perfect.

  “You know how you’re always telling me to make new friends?” I ask softly.

  Mom pulls her eyes away from her work and looks at me instead, instantly alert. Mothers everywhere in the animal kingdom are like this with their young, I tell myself nervously. It doesn’t mean she’s really paying close attention.

  “Um-hmm,” she says, nodding. “Friends. Well,” she corrects me, “I believe I told you not to worry—that you would make new friends at Oak Glen. And you have, Emma. Just look at you and Annie Pat! Why, you couldn’t have chosen a better friend if you’d ordered her from a catalog.” She beams a smile at me.

  “And don’t forget Kry,” I say, sliding in the name—a name that I hope my mom will be hearing a lot in the future. Like this coming Saturday, for instance.

  “Cry?” Mom repeats, looking confused.

  “Kry Rodriguez, Mom. You know. The new girl. She’s my friend, too. Our friend, I mean. Mine and Annie Pat’s. The three of us are really good friends now.”

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. But my mom doesn’t know that.

  And the three of us will be friends someday—if it kills me.

  Mom blinks, trying to remember when I last talked to her about Kry—which was never, because I was keeping Kry all to myself. “Oh,” she finally says. “Well, that’s nice, sweetie.” Her eyes stray back to the computer screen.

  “So anyway,” I say, raising my voice a little, “I made this new friend, like you told me to, and I was wondering if I could invite her out to lunch and a movie on Saturday. With you driving. Kry’s really nice, Mom.”

  My mother turns to me, surprised. “But, Emma, you already have plans on Saturday,” she says, reminding me. “Big plans. Annie Pat and her father are taking you to Marine Universe!”

  Mom sometimes forgets what day it is, ever since she started working at home, and she almost always forgets to buy the kind of cereal I like best, and she often forgets to take clothes out of the dryer, and she sometimes forgets to add all the correct ingredients to a recipe. Even cookies! And peanut-butter cookies without the peanut butter are just plain weird.

  But she has to remember this?

  “Marine Universe is off,” I inform my mom. “Annie Pat canceled the whole thing,” I add, so my mom won’t think any of this is my fault.

  Big mistake.

  “I’m sure you’re wrong about that, Emma,” Mom says, frowning. “I know how much Annie Pat was looking forward to her special day. She needs to get away from the new baby, even if it’s only for a little while.”

  And then my mom reaches for the phone.

  “No, don’t!” I say, squawking the words like a startled toucan.

  But it’s too late. Morn and Mrs. Masterson are already talking. “Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm,” my mom murmurs, shooting me a stay-right-there glance as I tiptoe toward the door.

  It’s more of a glare, really, and my heart starts thudding.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Mom continues. “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She listens to Annie Pat’s mother some more. “Well,” Mom finally says with a sigh, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Donna. I don’t know what got into Emma, but I intend to find out. Pronto.”

  Then she makes a few good-bye noises, hangs up the phone, and turns to face me.

  And I thought things were bad before!

  I have a feeling round three is about to begin.

  9

  It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

  It is a cold but sunny Friday morning, and the world smells like wet fallen leaves, and school starts in about twenty minutes, and I have a headache from being yelled at by my mom last night. She told me that not only did I hurt Annie Pat’s feelings, which I did by accident, but I lied about what happened, which I did on purpose. (But it seemed like a good idea at the time.)

  So I’m not doing anything tomorrow—except writing letters of apology to Annie Pat and my mom. Ugh. Maybe I should just write a letter of apology to the whole world, while I’m at it!

  And now, worst of all, I have to un-invite Kry Rodriguez to the cool Saturday lunch and movie. We were going to have such a good time that Kry would have wanted to be my friend for sure, even though I’m divorced. Well, not me, but you know what I mean.

  And Cynthia would have learned an important lesson. (Not to mess with me.)

  “Who are you looking for, the Easter bunny?” EllRay Jakes asks me, teasing. He hops up onto the picnic table the girls usually use, but I don’t even tell him to scram—partly because Jared Matthews and Stanley Washington are on their way over to the table, too. And there aren’t any other third-grade girls around to help defend it.

  “Yeah. Even though it’s almost Thanksgiving, I’m looking for bunnies,” I say, pretending to be bored. “And here come some now.”

  “Yo. What’s happenin’?” Jared bellows, flinging his grimy, skate-stickered backpack onto the table. Yuck.

  “Nothin’,” EllRay mumbles, because he’s a little bit scared of Jared, I think. Like I said before, EllRay is the littlest kid in the third grade, and Jared is the biggest. “Emma’s just waiting for—”

  “I know who she’s waiting for,” Jared interrupts. “Kry Rodriguez, that’s who. Her new best friend,” he jeers. “Only Cynthia wants her, too.”

  Even the boys know about our battle for Kry? I thought they never noticed anything!

  “Who cares what Cynthia wants?” I say—under my breath, of course.

  “Ooh!” Stanley says, pretending to be shocked. “I’m gonna tell Cynthia you said that.”

  “Go ahead and tell,” I say, since he’ll probably do it anyway. “I’m just trying to be nice to the new girl, that’s all.”

  “Well, now’s your chance,” Jared says, pointing.

  It’s true. Kry Rodriguez is heading toward the picnic table! She waves hello at me from across the lawn, then swings her shiny hair back over her shoulders. She is wearing a red fleecy top, black Levis, and black ankle boots.

  I really, really, really want a pair of boots like those.

  “Hi,” I sa
y, jumping off the table so I can meet her halfway—without those nosy boys listening in on every word. “I have to talk to you, Kry. It’s important. In fact, I was going to call you last night, only I don’t have your phone number yet.”

  “I wanted to call you, too,” Kry says, peeking at me through her long bangs. An I’m-sorry look is already spreading across her face. “Because it turns out that we have relatives coming on Saturday. They’re staying for a whole week, until after Thanksgiving. So my mom says I can’t go out to lunch with you.”

  I instantly decide that there’s no reason to un-invite Kry for Saturday, since she can’t come anyway. Why tell her what I almost had to do? “Lunch and a movie,” I remind her, because I want Kry to realize just how special Saturday was going to be.

  “And a movie,” Kry echoes, looking even sadder. “Oh, and by the way,” she whispers, “she’s divorced, too. My mom, I mean.”

  Huh?

  Hooray!

  “Oh. That’s too bad,” I say with a grown-up-sounding sigh.

  Kry shrugs to show me that yeah, it’s too bad, but no big deal. She’s okay with it. “Where’s that girl with the red hair?” she asks, peering around the filling-up lawn area as she changes the subject. “She looks really nice. Maybe you can ask her to go with you.”

  “Her name’s Annie Pat. And she is nice,” I say gloomily. “She used to be my best friend, in fact.”

  “Used to be?” Kry says, blinking her surprise.

  “It’s a long story,” I tell her as Fiona, Cynthia, and Heather come swooping across the lawn, heading in our direction. They are all dressed in various shades of pink today. Even Cynthia’s headband is pink. With sparkles in it.

  No sign of Annie Pat yet. I think my headache just got a whole lot worse.

  “Kry,” Cynthia squeals, giving her a little hug. “You look so cute today. Love your boots!”