“Night!” she called. Nice Kid waited until she got inside, then waved as he drove off. She sighed, tossing her backpack down by the door.
Tommy was just being Nice Kid, she told herself. What else could he do? He thought he had made her cry, she recalled. And he was lonely, he had admitted. He had just offered her a ride, after all. He’d had to take her home with him because of the tree. His mom was the one who had insisted on dinner. But he didn’t have to offer his clothes, or wash hers, or offer her a ride in the morning.
She scrunched her nose, leaving the window and going into the kitchen where she unpacked a glass, poured some water, and took a pill. Since she had nothing better to do, she spent the evening mostly failing to “catch up” in chemistry and instead contemplating what sort of thank-you would be appropriate for Tommy.
Maggie Brennan couldn’t stand anyone doing that much for her. Typically, no one even did her laundry or made her dinner. It was bad enough that she had to rely on others for a ride, but she liked to learn her own way around. She even studied alone.
Regardless of why he went out of his way to make her crappy first day better, she wanted to do something for him, so she started trying to figure out how to show gratitude to a nice guy.
Flowers were out. It couldn’t be anything too romantic, or he could get the wrong idea. Not that he’d be entirely wrong, but she couldn’t afford to lose a friend already. She’d only made two so far, and she knew from experience how quickly that could change. You would swear the person you befriended on your first day was going to be your new best friend for the rest of your life, and one week later, you hated them. Or they hated you. Or if you were lucky, both happened at the same time.
“How was school?” her mom asked when she finally came in for the night, past 8:00. By that point, Maggie was tired and didn’t feel like going into the gory details.
“Rough,” she summarized, lying on her new bed, mentally trudging through chemistry.
“Was the storm scary?” The taller, slimmer woman tossed her only child a pint of ice cream, her go-to apology for being late. “You didn’t get hurt or anything?”
Maggie followed her mother into the kitchen to get a spoon. The woman wore a dark blue skirt suit, and her hair, kept up with chopsticks, was falling.
“No. No injuries or anything that I know of…” Maggie tried to sound nonchalant about the twister. She debated telling her mom about after, about the ditch, but before she could decide, Cassidy Brennan (or Schwartz as it was after the divorce or Kline as it was on her name tag) had already moved on to other topics.
“Is that what you wore?” she asked, nodding toward her daughter’s clean but disheveled clothes.
“Yeah…” Mags wished she didn’t feel nervous under her mom’s eye. They had the same eyes at least, but those eyes seemed to see everything differently, assuming they were looking at the same things at all.
“Looks good.”
Maggie smiled. She couldn’t help it. The woman had style, and she knew if her mom had something nice to say about her clothes, she meant it. “Complements your complexion. I bet the guys were staring.” She winked.
“Not really,” Maggie said wryly, adding, “I did get a ride with one guy after school, but he’s Nice Kid, you know? His mom had me stay for dinner.”
“That was nice. I’m jealous. What was it?”
“Beef dumplings, sweet peas, and pie.”
“That sounds amazing. I had a cold sandwich.” She sucked her spoon until every molecule of cherry and dark chocolate was gone before asking, “Was Nice Guy cute?”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?”
“His girlfriend just died,” she sighed.
“Oh my gosh!” She swallowed, choking on a cherry a little in surprise.
“Yeah.”
“That’s terrible. What happened?” She listened intently, digging chocolate chunks out with her spoon.
“Haven’t heard yet.” Mags shrugged, stabbing her own pint. “Didn’t seem right to ask. His brother did kiss me, though.”
“What?” Her mom got a little too excited, so Mags blushed a little. “Get it, girl!” she teased. “Meet any female friends, or should I be worried?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “He’s kind of a jerk. Good kisser, cute, but a jerk. One girl was pretty cool. Becca. She’s a cheerleader.”
“No way. You telling me you sat at the popular table at lunch?”
“I did. Pretty sure they hated me, but—”
“They hated you? That’s even better. They saw you as competition,” her mom joked, happy for her small accomplishment, trying hard to be engaged. Then, she got serious. “What are you wearing tomorrow?”
Maggie put up her ice cream, not really hungry after the pie, and led her mom back to her boxes of clothing. “I was thinking this.” She pulled out a plum sweater and dark jeans.
“How about this?” Her mom pulled a dark blue top, more fitted and extra-long. Then, she selected some black leggings.
“Mom,” she said. She tried not to be insulted that her mom picked something else, telling herself that this was her way of helping, of spending time together.
She looked at her mom’s business suit, perfect hair, well-chosen accessories, and flawless makeup. The woman knew what she was talking about. She was fashionable and professional. She knew how to make people think what she wanted them to about her just by her outfit. Whatever she wore, uniform to sexy dresses to business suits, she knew how to wear all of it well. It was a talent—no, a skill.
But Maggie’s favorite thing about her mom was the way she smelled. Maggie tried to copy that. Same shampoo. Same detergent. Same perfume. But she just couldn’t get it quite right.
Maggie sighed, crossing her arms but keeping her expression nice. “This is just not me.”
“Kids are wearing those now. You can pull it off. This is slimming, shows curves.”
“I’d feel...weird.”
“Trust me.” She handed it to her.
“Well, it’s homecoming week anyway,” Maggie replied. “Might be crazy hat/hippie/career day or something.” Her mom snorted, one trait she was glad not to have inherited.
“I’ll consider the leggings, okay? How was work?” She set the outfit on the dresser and changed the subject, looking at the two side-by-side as her mom responded.
“Long, but good. They mostly had me on the phones and computer for now. They were very welcoming. Doughnuts in the morning.” She wagged her eyebrows, making her daughter laugh. “What time do you need to be there tomorrow?”
“Oh. I got a ride.”
“What? I don’t mind,” she began, though Maggie knew it was a problem.
“I know. Nice Guy insisted,” she shrugged. Her mom winked.
“Oh, okay. Despite the chaotic first day, I really think this place is going to be a good one, Mags. I really do.” Maggie tried to smile, but her mom’s predictions were usually wrong. Very wrong.
“What about your job? You think it’s going to be a good one?”
“I think I’m going to nail it.” No surprise there.
Tugging off her pantyhose with a sigh of relief, Cassidy got up from the bed and hugged her daughter, leaving her alone for the evening. It was their unspoken routine, never failing no matter where they moved. Mom would finish her ice cream, have some wine for dinner, soak in the tub, and then watch TV by herself until she dozed off, which usually only took a few minutes. She’d wake up a few hours later to drag herself to bed.
“Take your meds?” she asked, before closing the door.
Maggie nodded, comparing the two outfits again.
In her dream that night, she and Tommy were driving to school the next morning when they saw another tornado. She was struck by how much it looked like the ones she used to make in a bottle when she was younger. It was even sort of greenish and bubbly. Tommy was unbothered, despite her terror.
“It happens every day,” he told her, pulling over calmly. The
y climbed into the ditch, but she stopped when she found Tommy staring at her as if she were nuts.
“What?” she asked him, staring into his smoldering eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked. “Take your clothes off.”
The sound of the late show guy’s audience laughing and then the TV being switched off interrupted that train of thought. Berating herself for crushing on the grieving again, it took a while to go back to sleep.
She woke up with the idea. It was perfect. She could give Tommy her thanks without anyone from school seeing. Since he was coming in the morning, it was convenient. And if she got up, then she had time to do it.
She’d seen it online somewhere—cooking cheesy eggs inside little rings of bacon. She also broke out her only baking recipe, her mom’s blueberry mini-muffins. The older woman got up as Maggie ran to dry her hair and get dressed.
“You can take the rest of the muffins to work!” she called.
“Thanks.” Her mom was a little dumbfounded, but clearly wasn’t going to reject muffins.
Maggie put on very little makeup and switched outfits twice. The makeup wouldn’t do much, and she was not as good at applying it as her mom, but she felt naked without anything. Her hair, on the other hand, looked flawless, moving back into place when she shook it, like video game hair.
“Impressive,” her mom said when she emerged.
“Shut up,” she teased, embarrassed about looking like she was trying too hard and glad she switched back to the jeans.
Tommy wouldn’t be wowed by the baking with a mom like his, she thought as she grabbed the food, and he could have an egg allergy for all she knew. She was convinced she’d made an awful decision by the time she scrambled out the door, hands full of paper-plated food.
“Morning!” Tommy pushed the door open from inside.
“Hey. This is for you.” She shoved the plate at him unhappily. “I wanted to say thanks for everything.”
“Wow.” He breathed the smell in deeply as it filled the truck cabin with sweet and savory. “What is this? Bacon? Wrapped in egg? See, I knew this would be a good idea.” He shoved a mini-muffin in his mouth, and she couldn’t help but smile that her leap of faith baking made him pull a savory face. Mouth full, he said, “This is amazing. I’ll pick you up every day if you make me breakfast.”
She laughed aloud, pulling her seatbelt on and actually considering it for a half a second. “No chance.”
The drive to school was short and quiet. She was in a good mood until she climbed out of the truck cab and into the parking lot. The staring had returned, she noted. It was only Tuesday.
She walked ahead, some friends of Tommy’s coming over to him. Mark was one of them, and though his voice was low, it carried.
“What the hell, dude? She stay with you or something?”Mark asked, as if it was actually his business.
“What? No. I just gave her a ride,” Tommy defended himself.
She walked faster.
“Hey,” she offered to Becca as she left her locker. Becca gave her look of acknowledgment and a tight smile, glancing unconsciously at the locker. Maggie went on to class. Day two wasn’t looking much better than day one. At least maybe the roof would stay intact.
After surviving chemistry, she risked catching up with Becca. “Storm yesterday was crazy, huh?” she prompted.
“Yeah, it was,” Becca answered simply. Maggie knew she only had a few moments to engage her in conversation if she wanted to snag another invitation to their table.
“Field going to be ready in time for the game?” Football, she had learned quickly, was the national conversational crutch. You didn’t have to like it; you just had to pretend to care. As long as you semi-kept up with the game, you could instantly start a conversation with anyone, anywhere.
“It should be. They’ve had worse. You ever been in a twister?”
“No.” She considered telling her new friend about the closer encounter with her and Tommy, but had a second thought about telling Becca how her dead best friend’s boyfriend had laid over Mags in a ditch. She wasn’t sure why she avoided it—maybe just to be sensitive, since Mazy never was.
The conversation continued on to everyone’s best tornado stories, which were apparently a thing, so Maggie shared one about an earthquake.
“Where did you move from?” Sarah asked.
“Oh well, before this, Galveston, Texas. I was born in Chicago, but haven’t lived there in years. We were in Galveston less than a year. The earthquake was in Taiwan.”
“Wow,” Sarah said. “I love traveling on vacation. We went to Morocco last year,” she began.
Becca cut her off. “Why move in the middle of the year?”
“Mom’s a career woman. Her job doesn’t let her stay anywhere too long, not if she’s doing it right. I don’t mind. I like a little spontaneity.” She kept things vague with a shrug. It did not help your investigating if everyone in town knew you were investigating.
She did not see a reason for them to know everything.
“We found out two weeks before, drove up last week to sign for the house, moved up the next weekend, and started Monday. It’s fun once you get the hang of it.” She didn’t throw in the bit about reinventing herself. No need for them to suspect she was faking.
“You just drove into town last week?” Becca asked, incredulous about this simple fact.
To Maggie, it wasn’t even weird. “Yep. My house is pretty much just boxes.” She laughed.
“Oh! We could come over and help you do your room,” Mazy suggested, suddenly interested.
Mags shrugged. “Sure. That could be fun.” If they went too crazy decorating, she could just change it later, she guessed. Mazy seemed happy about that. Probably just wanted to be nosy.
“We can just follow you after school, but then I have to come back and work on the dance,” Sarah agreed.
“Sarah is head of that as well,” Becca explained.
“But Maggie didn’t drive to school today,” Mazy announced. “I heard Tommy gave you a ride.”
Maggie fought the desire to kick the girl under the table.
“Yeah, well, he offered yesterday when he gave me a ride home after the storm. My mom works an hour away so… ” She trailed off, drinking her milk.
“Oh.” Mazy suggested: “So he gave you a ride home and to school?”
“He was just being nice,” Maggie insisted.
“That’s Tommy,” Sarah confirmed.
“But I don’t understand.” Mazy shook her head, though Maggie was pretty sure the girl was not confused in the least. “You don’t have your own car?”
She thought it was pretty rude of Mazy to say it like that. What if they couldn’t afford it? Then she figured that was exactly what Mazy was implying with a hint of disgust. She didn’t feel like having this conversation.
“It’s in the shop,”she lied. She regretted it the moment it was out of her mouth, but there was no bringing it back.
They were quiet for a moment. Maybe they didn’t buy it.
“Anyway, it was nice of him.”
“Yeah. Tommy’s nice,” Becca offered with a smile.
“Where do you live?” Mazy asked.
“Uh, on Mulberry Street.”
“That’s weird. Tommy lives on the other side of town,” Mazy announced, anything but subtle. She really loved pointing out the obvious, Mags thought. If they were better friends, Maggie would have made a joke about it. But they weren’t.
“I can drive you,” Becca offered. “It’ll be fun. Besides, I live closer.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Well, we are coming over anyway, right? Makes more sense.”
Maggie really, really hoped the face she managed was one of joy and not disappointment. “Cool!”
It was not cool.
Chapter Four
Not Cool
At the end of the day, after finally going to U.S. History and Music, Maggie Brennan was in another small fight
with her locker when she sensed someone walk up behind her. She knew who it was before she turned. He was standing close enough to smell again, his voice low as he said, “Hi.” He gave his half-sad smile.
“Hi.” She smiled back.
“Ready to go? I can help you with those.”
Her stomach plummeted. He was actually offering to carry her books. If Tyler was right, and not leaning away from a lean-in was the international signal for “it’s okay to kiss me,” offering to carry a girl’s books was the international signal for “it’s okay to fall madly in love with me.”
That, or this was the nicest Nice Kid she had ever encountered.
She made a face, a pained face, biting her lip in hesitation.
“What?” he asked apprehensively.
“Becca insisted on giving me a ride today.”
He shook his head, clearly surprised by this. “What? Why?”
“They are coming over. Mazy’s idea.” She shrugged, widening her eyes to show her idea of how fun that would be. Not as fun as an awkwardly quiet ride home with Nice Guy. Not even close.
“I’m sorry. Becca’s just been really nice—I mean, not as nice as you, but, you know. Anyway, she said she lives closer, so…”
“So she stole you, huh?” he joked, half rolling his eyes. She nodded, looking sad. It wasn’t an act. She was sad.
Becca stood a few lockers down, watching, Maggie noticed then. Tommy stepped over to talk to her. Maggie wasn’t sure if she should follow, so she tried stuffing more books into her locker, debating over which ones she would actually open that night. She couldn’t hear their conversation over all the commotion, although she tried.
Apparently, the cheerleaders had decorated and filled the football players’ lockers with treats and jokes and letters of encouragement.
One girl not in a cheerleading uniform was brandishing a balloon and note angrily at one player’s locker. She was getting progressively louder and redder. Her voice sped up, got more high-pitched, while her jaw remained tight, movements jerky, scowl intense.
Maggie noted the signs. Then, this girl spun around from her still-talking boyfriend—a massive figure, team leatherjacket visible from the back—and walked right over to none other than Mazy.
Keep Your Friends Close Page 4