by Bry Ann
This dang girl. I need someone to remind me why my best friend is not a boy. They are way easier.
“I said no, Mandi.”
I side-eye her, waiting to see what she’ll do.
“You can’t tell me what to do, Brantley. He invited me! This is the biggest party of the year.”
“Yeah, until the next one.”
She glares at me. “You’re so negative.”
“No, I’m really not. The guys that invited you are jerks, and speaking of, you can’t wear stuff like that around them. Did your mom say that was okay?”
Now she looks ready to kill me. “What is wrong with what I’m wearing, Brantley Taylor?” She says it in a tone that dares me to insult her. I’m not trying to, but goodness. She’s wearing nothing. “And for your information,” she continues, not letting me answer her question, “my mom is not in charge. My dad is, and he doesn’t care.”
That makes me stop.
“Doesn’t care?”
No one who knows Mandi shouldn’t care. She’s not even my real family, and I’d do anything for her, really.
“Drop it, Brant. Point is, he doesn’t care if I show my belly. I mean...” Suddenly. she looks upset, totally out of nowhere. “I don’t look fat, do I?”
I frown at her. “What a dumb question.”
“Does that mean I do or don’t? I need to know right now. Right this minute!”
She twists to the side, then back again, like that will somehow influence my opinion.
“You don’t look fat.”
She nods. Clearly that makes her feel better. I sigh. I have to try this a different way. This is so freaking complicated. Why don’t I have a dad or brothers or even a guy best friend? What did I ever do to God to deserve this?
“Mandi,” I say with all the softness I can muster up. She spins around, clearly surprised by my tone. “Please, for me, don’t go tonight. Stay back. I’ll watch The Notebook with you, just, don’t go to this dumbass party.”
Her eyes widen at my choice of language. “That’s a bad word,” she mumbles.
“It’s a bad party,” I counter.
She thinks for a moment, picking at her pinky finger. I look her up and down as she does. She needs to put on some damn clothes. While she thinks on whether she’s going to listen to reason or not, I go in my closet, grab one of my t-shirts, and throw it at her.
“Put it on.”
“Bossy,” she grumbles.
“I have to go, Brant,” she says quietly, but still slides the t-shirt over her tiny body.
She says it so quietly I barely hear her, which is not like Mandi. At all. As soon as she does, she relaxes. She slouches back, lets her shoulders drop, and stops messing with her hair. She lets herself be natural, just Mandi. That helps me relax, too.
“What’s wrong?” I respond immediately.
She gives me a sad smile as she fiddles with the end of my t-shirt. “You can’t fix everything, Brantley. You’re tough, but unfortunately, you don’t have superpowers.”
I scowl at her. Where’s my Mandi? The girl with glitter and flowers and dresses that make no sense.
“I didn’t ask for you to tell me what you think I cannot do. I asked what’s wrong.”
“You know, it’s really a shame I’ve known you since I was practically a baby, because you’re pretty hot like this.”
“Ew. Answer my question.”
She laughs. As she does, a little of the sadness dissolves from her eyes.
“I just have a lot going on. You know how it is.”
She tucks her legs under my covers and leans back against the headboard. I stare at her for a second. She seems fine, then all of a sudden, tears float to the surface. She quickly turns away and ducks her head.
“Oh no,” she mumbles to herself, swatting at her face.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
I take a seat at the corner of the bed and watch her. I know what’s coming. I see it. She’s wound up too tight and her eyes are filling rapidly with water. Then, in the blink of an eye, she bursts out crying and jumps forward to tuck her head in my arm, like she did that first time she broke her arm at recess.
“I feel all alone. I can’t stop making stupid decisions. Nobody understands.”
“I’m here. I get you.”
Except for right now; I’m confused. I see her every day. How is she alone?
Instead of calming her down like I’d hoped, my words make her cry harder. She’s sobbing uncontrollably into my arm. I’ve never seen her cry this hard. I didn’t even know she was hurting. Dang, I feel like the worst best friend. I’m not cut out for this.
“Hey, hey now. I’m here. Talk to me. What can I do?”
A new wave of crying hits her. “Oh, you’re so nice! You’re too good to me. You’re gonna be so mad at me. You’re never going to want to be my friend again. You’re gonna hate me, too. I don’t know what I’ll do when I lose you, Brantley.”
When?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. I’m not going anywhere.”
“That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is. Shh… Mandi, let’s talk it out.”
“You’re too rational,” she blubbers against my chest.
I smile a little. “Mandi, I’m not a girl. I have no clue what’s happening with you. Hormones or some bullshit.”
“It’s not hormones! Oh god, I wish it was.”
Thoroughly confused, I hold her head and let her cry it out. I’m now certain I’ve never seen her cry this much. Even when she broke her arm, she didn’t cry this much. Damn, girl hormones must suck. I’ll ask my mom about it later. Then I’m going to go hang with Weston, David, and Brian. I need to be around freaking dudes after this.
Mandi cries long enough that she misses the party. So unless she wants to be late, our argument is null and void. Not that I won’t hold up my end of the deal. Regardless of the circumstances, she’s still not going, and I said I’d watch a trashy movie with her if she didn’t.
“Hey,” I pull her back and look into her big, swollen red eyes. “Want to watch that movie I owe you?”
“No.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “No?”
Dear God, I never thought I’d say this, but now I’m scared. I’d rather watch the movie than whatever she has in mind.
“I need your help with something,” she mumbles.
“You know I’ll do it, so spit it out.”
She smiles up at me. We’re way too close. Suddenly a little uncomfortable, I quickly pull away and start pacing.
“What, Mandi? Spit it out.”
“I need money, and I need you to help move some stuff out of my house.”
My whole spine straightens. It’s like ice is shot into my veins. Mandi won’t look at me. She’s hiding her face in the pillow. I grab the edge of the it, snatch it away from her, and throw it across the room.
“Mandi,” I snap. I’m seeing red. I’ve never felt this way before. “Explain right now!”
“Please don’t be mad at me,” she sobs, looking anywhere but at me.
Again, not Mandi.
“Amanda West!”
“I’ve been trying to—”
“Brantley!”
My mom throws the door open. Her eyes flicker from the discarded pillow to Mandi in my t-shirt, under my covers, with swollen eyes, in my bed.
“Uh… Brantley?”
My mom’s confused gaze shifts over to me. I’m still reeling from Mandi’s requests. I look over to see Mandi staring at me, begging me with her eyes not to say anything. I can’t betray her. Not ‘til I know what’s going on.
“Sorry, Mom, I lost my shit.”
“Excuse your language, young man.”
“Sorry, Mom,” I mumble.
“Now, what was this about losing your cool?”
“A boy was a jerk to me. Brantley got mad. I got sad,” Mandi lets out a nervous laugh, gesturing to her face. “Obviously.”
“Umm...” My mom has good intuition and kno
ws this is bullshit. She looks to me. “Well, if you need me, I’ll be in the kitchen. Brantley.”
She levels me with a look that tells me to, one, behave, and two, tell her if Mandi is in any kind of trouble.
I can manage number one, but I’m getting increasingly nervous that I won’t be able to manage the second one.
“Got it, Mom. Thanks,” I mumble.
She gives me one more worried look, glances at my t-shirt drowning Mandi’s small frame, and leaves the room, respecting my privacy.
Click.
The door closes quietly behind my mom. As soon as it does, I whirl back on Mandi.
“How much do you need, Mandi?”
She winces. “$175.”
My eyes bug out. “175! What the hell, Mandy? You’re in eighth grade.”
She ducks her head in shame. “I need the money really badly. I have it covered if you take me to the party tonight, but we have to hurry.”
Fear fills her eyes.
“No, Mandi! What did you do?”
Tears start to leak out of her eyes again. Now I really wish it was hormones. She stands up and pulls my t-shirt down. She looks so small. She is younger than me. I have to help her, keep her safe from stupid mistakes.
“I’m not judging you,” I add.
She rolls her eyes. “You don’t even know. I have to go.”
As she heads for the door, I grab her wrist. “Hey,” I say softly. “What stuff do you need me to move out of your house, Mandi?”
She looks away and shakes her head. I don’t hear anything, but when I look down, a tear is falling to the floor.
“Mandi, come on. I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
“But you don’t even know what I’m asking.”
I hear the pain in her voice. How did I not know my best friend was hurting this badly?
“You’re my friend, and you need my help. I got you.”
She turns around and wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re the best friend ever, Brantley Taylor.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter in her ear.
She pulls away and smiles up at me. Her big eyes glimmer with unshed tears and adoration.
“Love you, Brantley Taylor.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll get you the $175, too.”
She swats my arm that’s now big and strong from football. “That’s not why I said it! I’m not a gold-digger.”
“Never said you were. Now, what are we unpacking and why the heck did you need to go to that party so badly?”
Immediately, Mandi leaves my best friend’s body. The brightness leaves her eyes, she pulls away, and wraps her arms around herself.
I want Mandi back.
“Don’t ask me. You can never know.”
I want to know so freaking badly, but not at this cost. Not if it means Mandi pulls away like this.
“Okay,” I nod. “Doesn’t matter. What are we unpacking?”
She looks skeptical. “Really? That easy? I know you, Brant. You won’t let this go.”
I shake my head. “Already forgotten. What are we unpacking? Last time I ask.”
“My clothes, covers, and the few sentimental objects I have. I’m moving out of my house.”
My jaw hits my chest.
What?
4
Fourteen Years Old
“Is this the last of ‘em?” I grunt.
I toss the box in the back of some dude’s truck. When I asked her how she planned to get this stuff where she needs it to be, she told me she had a friend who was willing to help. I have so many questions at this point, I don’t even know where to begin. The way Mandi keeps looking over at me with doe eyes tells me she knows I’m ready to lose it.
How does she know a seventeen year old boy?
Where is she moving? Why is she moving?
Why does she owe $175, and what was she going to do at that party to get it?
I groan and hold my temples. My best friend has a whole life I know nothing about. My eighth grade best friend. I don’t even know where she’s going. She’s a little girl, and I’m a high school guy. How do I talk sense into this crazy girl?
God, my head hurts.
“Brantley,” a shaky voice whispers from beside me.
A cold hand lands on my upper arm. I look over from under my elbow. Mandi is standing there with a bright yellow flower in her hair, staring at me with big, sad eyes. Ugh, damn it, this girl. She makes it impossible to be mad at her.
“Where are you gonna go, Mandi?” I sigh, dropping my hands.
“Well, Ron said I could stay with him. I’m gonna go from there.”
Oh, what the… no! Absolutely freaking not. Why am I her dad now? Heck, I don’t even have a dad.
“Ron? As in the seventeen year old punk driving this car?”
She shrugs. “Yeah.”
“You’re killing me, Mandi.”
“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.”
I glance at her again. She’s pulled back, but still has a desperate look in her eyes.
“You’re not staying with Ron.”
“But—”
I hold up a hand. “You’ll stay with me.”
“But your mom?”
I sigh, and run a hand over my face. “Mandi, why are you moving out of your house?”
I look up and pin her to the spot. She retreats, but doesn’t run. We’ve hit a head. She can’t hide this anymore. She’s never taken me to her house, never let me meet her folks. Even now, they aren’t home. I didn’t think anything of it until now. I’m an idiot.
“My parents aren’t very nice,” she whispers.
She drops her head, and as she does, her flower drops to the floor. Suddenly, that feels very significant. I lean over and pick it up. I peel her palm open and stick it in there.
“Put it back in your hair,” I demand.
Mandi smiles a little and does as I say.
“You’re the worst, Brantley,” she says with a little laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
She beams at me.
I hate to ruin her happiness, but I need to know why she’s leaving for real if I’m gonna convince my mom to feed, house, and take care of Mandi. Yeah, I need a lot more information.
“Sorry, Mandi, but what do you mean? Why ya leaving?”
Like I thought, her smile dies.
“My dad beats my mom and is a drunk. I sometimes get caught in the crossfire.”
Red. I see that dang color again. “What?”
Mandi doesn’t seem to sense my rage, because she continues on.
“I’d feel bad about leaving my mom, but she’s no better. When my dad comes to hurt her, she throws me in front of her and offers me up.”
Mandi scowls. I’ve never seen that look on her pretty face before.
“I mean, I may be biased here, but I’m her daughter. She should be taking the hits for me, not the other way around.”
“I’ve never… I’ve… You’ve…”
I’m gonna be sick. Not Mandi. No. I refuse to accept that. She gives me a sad smile and squeezes my bicep.
“It’s fine. I just had to go.”
“I’ve never seen bruises.”
“He knows where to hit, and I’m good with makeup. It’s fine, Brantley, really. Ron’s waiting for us.”
“You’re not staying with him!” I snap.
What if he tries to have sex with her? Egh, it’s weird thinking about this, because it’s Mandi, but it is an actual problem. What if he tries and she can’t stop him? She’s in eighth grade and he’s a junior. Heck no on this one.
“It’s not really your choice.”
“My mom won’t care.”
She laughs. “How would you know?”
“She’s my mom. She’ll adopt you, just don’t go with Ron. Please, Mandi.”
She looks down and kicks dirt. “I guess it can’t hurt to ask.”
“I’ll show Ron where to drop your shit. There’s a spot at the complex we could pu
t it until we talk to my mom. It’s where all the people moving in keep their shit.”
“Language. Brantley.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Well, you act like my dad,” she laughs. “So we’re even.”
“Someone’s gotta, apparently.”
“Should I waste my breath reminding you that you don’t have a dad either?”
“True, but I don’t need one. I do just fine on my own.”
“You’re one of a kind, Brantley Taylor.”
“Yep.”
She laughs and hugs my arm. Guess she’s gonna drag me to my own house now. That’s Amanda West for you.
“I can’t believe your mom said yes! I really can’t!” Mandi sings as she stuffs her clothes into one of my drawers.
“Told you. I know my mom. She’s nice, and I think my dad was real mean. She couldn’t turn you away even if she’d wanted to.”
Mandi pauses and chews on a nail. “I don’t want her to feel stuck with me.”
“Hey now, you know my mom loves you. She’s probably grateful to have another girl in the house. It’s been just the two of us forever. Imagine living with me all your life.”
“I guess I’m about to find out.”
I snort. “Yeah. We should probably talk about living arrangements.”
Mandi drops the armful of crap she was putting away and jumps on my bed. She bounces up and down a few times, smiling. She reaches around and grabs one of my pillows, placing it in front of her.
“Okay! What were you thinking?”
I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. I have Mandi back. She’s wearing high waisted yellow shorts, a sunflower top and her hair is all wrapped up in a yellow bandana. She looks happy again. Like this is the best place on earth. I can’t help but wonder when was the last time she felt like her house was a home. That makes me frown. I should have known. I always wanted a home, and I got one. How did I not see she didn’t have one?
“Brantley, anybody home?”
“Yup.”
I’m still frowning.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You okay? Do you not want me here? I can sleep in the closet or something until I have a more permanent housing situation. I can actually be quiet. Well, most of the time. I know you like quiet.”
“Mandi, stop! You’re making me sick to my stomach. You are not sleeping in my fucking closet.”