pierced ears for Erica?
pet store
lunch at Rosebud Café
I had closed my eyes, dreaming of sidewalk sales and bargain racks. More than anything else, I wanted Erica to like the same things I liked.
Just like Stacey did.
It wasn’t going to be easy, though.
“Well,” Erica said, “sometimes I browse in the art store, but no, I have never devoted an entire day to walking around buying things. Not like you.”
“Erica,” I exclaimed, “you don’t always have to buy. Window-shop! It’s like an art, you know.”
“Really? An art?”
I stopped in front of a store window. It was the Connecticut Yankee Shop. Perfect.
“Like here. Check out all these candles.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So many colors. So many scents. So many sizes. I can just imagine all the places I could put them or all the people I could give them to as gifts.”
Erica started to wander away while I was talking. I shouted after her. “Hey! Wait up! I was telling you something.”
“Oh. I thought you were finished. Can we go somewhere else?”
I frowned. “Okay, you don’t like candles. Then how about Bellair’s? It’s a department store, so you can look at a whole bunch of stuff at once. Plus, they’re having this awesome shoe sale.”
“Okay. I’ll cruise the shoes.” Erica laughed at her rhyme.
We headed for the shoe department in Bellair’s, gabbing a mile a minute. I mentioned that I hadn’t seen Jeremy in a couple of days.
Erica hinted that maybe (just maybe) I liked Jeremy a little more than I wanted to admit.
“No way,” I told her. Jeremy Rudolph was strictly off-limits. Stacey had made that perfectly clear.
As we switched escalators to go to a higher floor, Erica told me that she couldn’t baby-sit on Sunday for the Pikes. She had a family commitment that she couldn’t cancel. Fortunately, she had let Kristy know on Wednesday night. “Kristy said not to worry.”
I was bummed out. Kristy would probably take the job herself, which would be fine, but I’d been looking forward to sitting with my new friend again.
“It sure is crowded in here,” Erica noticed, glancing at the row of shoppers lined up behind us on the escalator.
“You know,” I said, “when Stacey and I used to come to Bellair’s after Thanksgiving, we would actually get up early in the morning to try to be first in line. Can you believe that?”
Erica just looked at me. “Yeah?”
“And there was one Thanksgiving when Stacey got into an argument with this other girl we know. They both saw a pair of bargain shoes at the same time. It was funny because the two of them each had one shoe in her hand and —”
“You know, Claudia,” Erica interrupted, “maybe shopping wasn’t such a good idea. And I don’t really need any shoes.”
“But you just said a minute ago that —”
“I know you want to go shoe shopping. That’s cool. But maybe I’ll go to the music section or the book section, okay? I’m sorry. I know you and Stacey used to have fun doing this together but …”
I told her we could skip the shoes. The whole idea of the day was to spend time together, not to buy shoes.
“How about the jewelry department downstairs?” I asked.
“I told you at the mall that I’m not really into jewelry.”
“Please? Just for two seconds.” I nudged her on the shoulder and whined, “Pleeeeeeeeeease?”
She laughed and agreed to go.
Once we were there, I think Erica was surprised by how much fun we had at the earring counter. I worked my shopping charms and convinced her to try on a few pairs. The woman behind the register helped us pick out different styles and colors — all clip-on earrings, since Erica refused to get her ears pierced. They were having a sale — buy two pairs and get one free.
“I have to admit that these would look nice on me,” Erica said, admiring a pair of dainty fake-diamond earrings in the mirror. “I never would have guessed it.”
“You absolutely sparkle, dah-ling,” I purred. A saleswoman with bright red lipstick was pulling other earrings off the rack for Erica to look at.
“Buy two pairs, get one free,” I reminded her. Erica was actually having a good time shopping, and it was all thanks to me! Inside Erica’s cynical shell was a shopper just waiting to come out.
The saleswoman handed Erica a pair of garnet drop earrings. “Now, these would look lovely with your hair. They would pick up the red highlights.”
Erica’s hair looked brown to me, but she bought the saleslady’s line anyway. After a few minutes, to my great surprise, Erica was ready to buy both pairs.
“I love garnets,” she declared. “I love the color. These really do match my hair.”
The saleswoman beamed.
“You know something funny?” I said to Erica. “Stacey loves that stone too. She has a garnet ring that her dad got for her in New York, and when we were shopping there once we actually —”
Erica cut me off. “Hey! You know what? Why don’t you get the free pair?”
“Me?”
“I absolutely never would have tried on earrings if it hadn’t been for you. And I love these. So you take the free pair, okay?”
I nodded and picked out a pair of silver hoops with little green beads on them. They would go perfectly with my green turtleneck sweater. I’d wear them to school on Monday.
“Thanks so much, Erica. These are awesome.”
Erica decided to wear the garnet earrings out of the store. Slowly, before my very eyes, she was becoming (dare I say it?) fashionable.
After that, we shopped everywhere. Erica changed her mind and agreed to go back to the shoe sale. We even tried on some hats in one of Bellair’s new basement boutiques.
“Where to now?” Erica asked as we left Bellair’s.
“I don’t know, Stace.”
Erica stopped short. “What did you say?”
I realized that I had just called Erica “Stace.”
“Did you just call me Stace?” Erica asked.
“No, I —” I tried hard to change the subject.
“Let’s just eat,” said Erica.
Why had I called her Stace?
A moment later, we were entering the Rosebud Café. After an awkward silence, Erica had perked up.
“I know it’s cold outside,” she said as we entered the restaurant, “but I am going to have a strawberry milk shake anyway.”
The place was packed, but a waitress led us to a table after about five minutes. She motioned to the back room for a busboy to clear up the plates left by the last customers.
I looked up and saw a familiar face.
“Logan?”
The busboy for our table was Logan Bruno. As he collected cups and saucers he explained that the “Road Spud” (that’s what he calls the restaurant sometimes) was always busiest around the holidays.
“So what’s up?” I asked him. I hadn’t seen much of him lately.
“Well, Mary Anne and I broke up, remember?” He grabbed the bus tray and backed away. “Happy Thanksgiving — a day late. See you around.”
Uh-oh. Logan looked unhappy and he sounded miserable.
I told Erica about the Logan and Mary Anne situation. She was very sympathetic and reminded me of Peaches, since she knew how to say the right thing at the right time.
We ordered the milk shakes, fries, and burgers. Everything was yummy. I had eaten so much food in the last two days.
“I am STUFFED,” Erica pronounced, patting her belly, as the waiter took our dishes away.
I grinned. “Stacey used to make this joke all the time about having a big belly like Santa at the holidays. She said —”
I looked up and saw Erica’s face cloud over.
“What?” I said. “What is it?”
“I just can’t compete, Claudia.”
“What do you mean?”
�
�I can’t compete with Stacey. I’m not her, Claudia. If you want to be with Stacey, then you should call her up. Not me. I want to be myself. I don’t want to be the friend you take shopping on the rebound.”
“It’s not like that!” I protested. “What are you talking about? I don’t want to be with Stacey. I want to be with you.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s why you keep telling me Stacey stories and wondering where Stacey is. You even called me Stace by mistake. I’m tired of this. I was just starting to like shopping, even though I never thought I would. But you’re not here with me. You’re thinking about Stacey.”
“No I’m not —”
Erica stood up in a huff. Then she carefully took off the garnet earrings and placed them on the table in front of me.
“Claudia, take these back. I don’t want them.”
“I can’t take them back….”
“Then give them to Stacey. They’ll go with her ring. I don’t wear earrings, remember?”
Erica dug out a wrinkled ten-dollar bill from her wallet and left without even saying good-bye. She just dropped the earrings, paid her part of the check, and walked away.
And I didn’t run after her.
Maybe she wasn’t such a great friend after all. Or maybe I wasn’t.
I realized something interesting yesterday.
Friends are not necessarily forever.
Yesterday I did the following things in this order:
slept
ate a turkey sandwich
did a little math homework
slept some more
drew a picture of Lynn from a photo on my desk
I felt like a robot going through the motions, not like Claudia Kishi the artist. I was so tired of being upset. I wanted my average life back.
I wanted to call Erica but I couldn’t. What could I possibly say to make up for what had happened? How could I explain calling her by the wrong name?
Everything was a mess.
The members of the BSC got together last night. Actually, they got together on Friday night, with Stacey, but I couldn’t go because I was with Erica. So they got together again (minus Stacey) to see me on Saturday. Everywhere I turned, there was another reminder of the fact that I was in the middle of a Friendship Feud … or two. I felt ninety-nine percent guilty and depressed, one percent good.
Well, maybe better than that. I admit that Saturday evening was fun. Mal, Jessi, Kristy, Abby, and Mary Anne hung out at my house. It seemed like old times, as if we were having a BSC meeting in my bedroom. We even flipped through an old appointment book and started to remember funny sitting jobs. Jessi and Mallory hadn’t seen each other much in the past few months, so they were particularly thrilled to be there, chatting in the corner of the room about writing and dance.
I told Mallory about Jordan and Erica — how Erica had gotten him to chill out and do his homework. We laughed about boyfriends, avoiding the subjects of Logan and Jeremy. I decided my friends had probably had an earful about the big J the night before with Stacey. I was not prepared to admit anything about my feelings concerning Jeremy or Stacey. Every time I mentioned either of them, it got me into trouble.
And here I was, on Sunday, still feeling like a heel.
Today Mal was heading back to Riverbend with her family, and I was going to baby-sit for the Pike kids while they drove her there. Now I was glad I wouldn’t be sitting with Erica. How embarrassing that would have been.
When I knocked on the Pikes’ door, Claire pulled it open, wearing a semitoothless grin (she’d lost a front tooth on Thanksgiving).
“Claudia!” she said, smiling from ear to ear and reaching out for a hug.
I stepped inside the house and saw the other kids behind Claire. Poised in a neat row on the sofa, the Pikes were sitting up straight like birds on a wire.
Sitting in a chair, not too far away, was Stacey.
“Hi, Stacey.” I spoke up first. “I can’t believe Kristy called you to baby-sit.”
“Kristy?” Stacey repeated. “Kristy didn’t call me.”
Vanessa blushed and started to walk out of the room.
“Vanessaaaaaaaah?” I called after her. “Vanessa Pike, you wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would you?”
She slouched back into the living room, then stood, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“Vanessa?” I said again.
Vanessa squirmed. “Kristy told Mom she was going to sit, but we said we wanted Stacey, and Kristy said it was okay to call her, so Mom did.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Claudia, does it really matter why I’m here?” Stacey said with an impatient sigh. “Let’s just do this, okay?”
Last week in school she had told me off and now she was pretending it was okay. She was telling me what to do, just like she had done in the girls’ room.
“All right. I’ll go see what the triplets are doing.”
But the Pike girls pulled me back into the living room. They wouldn’t let me get away from Stacey.
The next hour was the longest (and quietest) I’ve ever spent in the Pike household. The only thing that the youngest Pikes wanted to do was sit on the edge of the sofa and watch Stacey and me.
What was going on?
Stacey glanced at me. No matter how hard either of us tried, the Pikes seemed determined to keep us …
Together.
How could I have missed something so obvious?
Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle snapped into place.
“Okay, kids,” I said. “Go read. Go do homework. Go do something. Time to leave Stacey and me alone.”
On their way out of the room, I could detect sneaky smiles on their faces.
Stacey flopped onto the couch. “Claudia, why are we doing this?”
“Why are we doing what?”
“Why are we fighting like this?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Claudia, we’ve been friends forever.”
All of the butterflies that had been whirring around inside my stomach suddenly stopped. “I know we have,” I said.
“So why are we still fighting? It just seems so … so …”
“Dumb?” I asked.
“Yeah. I mean, I forgive you for telling Jeremy about Ethan …”
Wait a minute. What did she say? She forgives me?
“I know you didn’t mean to tattle on me,” she went on. “Plus, I really think that since our talk on Monday you’ve been great about staying away from Jeremy.”
“Gee, Stacey, I don’t know if —”
“You know, Claud, I don’t think I’ve seen you and Jeremy together all week. That really takes a load off my mind.”
I was speechless.
“Isn’t it funny, Claud, that we could have had this kind of misunderstanding? And over a boy too. We said we’d never, ever do that, remember? You know, I really miss you.”
I wanted to tell her that I missed her too. That I went shopping and found the garnet earrings, and that I never, ever wanted to fight over a boy.
“Stacey, I missed you too,” I confessed. I couldn’t help myself.
She smiled and reached out to give me a hug.
I was relieved. Was Stacey back? I wanted my best friend back.
“I’m so glad you said something, Stace, because I have been thinking about our friendship all week. All month!”
“Me too.”
“I didn’t have the courage to tell you this before —”
“We have the Jeremy thing behind us, right?” Stacey looked into my eyes. “You’re going to avoid him in school like I said, right? I mean, maybe we can hang out together as friends, but I don’t know about that just yet. In a little while …”
“What are you talking about?”
“Jeremy. Remember?”
“Wait just a minute. This is about you and Jeremy? What about you and me?”
“What about us? We just made up.”
I shook my head. I was not going to let her g
et away with this. “You just made up, Stacey. I barely got to say anything.”
“You said you missed me.”
“I do miss you. But you said some really mean things to me.”
“I was feeling protective, that’s all.”
“About what? About who? Don’t you trust me?”
Stacey paused. “Yeah, I guess so. Most of the time.”
I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. “Stacey, don’t you get it?”
“I guess not.”
“When I say I missed you — I really missed you. And I wouldn’t steal your boyfriend. Friends don’t do that to each other. No matter what they feel.”
“And what do you feel, Claudia?”
“Hurt.”
“I said I was sorry. Can’t we just forget it and go back?”
“Go back?”
“To the way it was. To the mall. Hanging out in your room. You know, I thought of you all during Thanksgiving dinner. I was going to even call you, but —”
“But you didn’t.”
“No …”
“I’ll bet you called Jeremy, though.”
Stacey didn’t answer that. Obviously, she was feeling guilty — and I wanted her to feel guilty. I wanted her to feel lonely and sad, like I’d been feeling all weekend.
“Claudia, I just want to be your best friend.” She was starting to cry.
“You should have thought of that before, Stacey.”
“But I thought you said you missed me —”
I had to hold my breath to keep from crying too.
That’s when Vanessa rushed into the living room, screaming.
Frodo was loose again, but I had a sneaking suspicion someone had helped him to get loose. The Pike kids knew we were fighting. Their plan A had backfired. Time for plan B.
I guessed that Vanessa had heard everything. Stacey starting to cry, me starting to yell … and had rushed in to interrupt us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frodo dash under the sofa.
“Come here, you little rodent!” I said, and hit the floor, hands poking around for the energetic ball of fluff.
After all the commotion had passed, I returned him safely to his cage. By this time, Stacey had wiped away her tears so the kids wouldn’t see that she’d been crying. She was talking to Vanessa about school and TV while they straightened up the living room.
Claudia's Friendship Feud Page 7