by Julie Bowe
And smiles.
"But I've never had a friend like you before either ... Cordelia."
I'm quiet for a moment. Then I say, "So you did read my note."
Stacey nods. Then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a grayish rock, knobby on one side and flat on the other. "This is for you," she says, swimming the rock through the air to my hand.
I look at that rock. It has a tail, fin, and smiling face painted on it. Then I turn it over and read Cordelia on the back.
Stacey gives me half a smile. "I hope you don't mind I kept it. I didn't think you wanted it, so I took it home with me. I guess it really is magical because it found you again."
I look at Stacey. "You knew it was me writing those notes all along?"
Stacey nods. "I saw Cordelia written on the back of the rock when I got home from the sleep-over. When I got your first note, I figured that you were her."
"Why didn't you tell me you knew?"
Stacey is quiet for a moment. Then she says, "Because I knew I'd be moving away soon. And I was afraid you wouldn't want to be my friend if I told you the truth about everything."
I think about this for a moment. Then I hold the whale rock out to Stacey.
"Here," I say. "You keep the whale. Maybe it will help you find friends at your new school."
"Thanks," Stacey says. "But I won't be needing new friends."
I give Stacey a puzzled look. "Why not?" I ask.
"When my mom called last night, I told her how much I like it here. Then she and my grandma talked for a long time. They decided I could keep living here until my mom finds a place close by. In the meantime, she'll come see me on the weekends."
I can hardly believe it's true. "This isn't one of your emergency lies, is it?" I ask.
"Of course not," Stacey says, crossing her heart. "Secret friends never lie."
Then I take a deep breath, squeeze my whale rock for luck, and say, "Stacey? I wish we could be more than just secret friends. I wish we could be real friends ... maybe even best friends?"
I bite my lip and think about my little magic cup. I hope it's jumping around like crazy.
Stacey raises one eyebrow. "Didn't you get my answer to your last note?" she asks.
"Not... exactly...," I say, thinking about what Jenna told me it said.
"Oh," Stacey says. "Well, my answer is yes! In fact, I thought we already were best friends."
I smile. A big smile.
And that's when I know, in fourth grade, wishes do come true. Maybe not all of them, but the really important ones do.
* * *
Epilogue
Even though I hate to admit it, fourth grade is actually turning out to be a lot of fun. Oh sure, it's turning out to be a lot of other things, too. It's a lot of erasing and a lot of stomachaches and a lot of feeling like you'd rather just stay in bed for the rest of your life. But now that I've lived through a couple months of it, I'd have to say that fourth grade is mostly okay.
Fourth grade means coming in second place in the Potato Pageant window-painting contest. Joey, Jolene, and the Dylans came in first. They painted their window to look like a house, and when you peeked inside one of the house's windows you saw a toy television and a toy couch with two potatoes sitting on it. Couch potatoes. Get it?
But I was feeling so happy about Stacey not moving away that I didn't care if another cluster won the contest. Besides, me, Randi, Rusty, and Tom had lots of fun painting our window. And the second-place prize was a jumbo box of Choco-chunks for each of us. I'll take chocolate over potatoes any day.
Fourth grade means learning how to make a three-point shot. Randi Peterson is teaching me at recess. Most of the time I miss the basket. But when I do make a shot, Randi does a little victory dance, which makes it hard not to feel like a winner.
Fourth grade also means getting a new best friend. Because even though Stacey Merriweather would rather write stories than draw pictures, and even though she prefers Swiss cheese to mild cheddar, she still is. My best friend. Best friends don't have to be exactly alike or even be together every day. They just need to be there for each other when it really matters.
Plus, fourth grade means learning to expect the unexpected. I know because even though I never thought I would be brave enough to make a new best friend, I am. And even though I never expected to find what I did on my desk a few days after I told Stacey my real name, I did.
When I got to school that day, there was a wrinkly piece of paper on my desk. Actually, it was a wrinkly note. The same note I had left in the secret stone for Stacey. The note Jenna stole.
Besides the part that I had written, there was a big purple X from Stacey in the yes box. That made me smile. I guess she really wasn't lying when she said she wants to be my best friend, even before I gave her the friendship bracelet.
But there was something else on that note.
At the very bottom, in teeny-tiny print, I saw it:
Sorry
Stacey hadn't written it because it wasn't purple. But I knew who had. Jenna Drews.
And right away there was something else I knew, too. If Jenna can start small, with a sorry, maybe she can have a real friend some day.
There's still a lot of fourth grade left, but I think I'll probably make it through okay, even though I haven't gotten any smarter since it started.
But I do have a loose tooth.
That's something.
* * *