BFF Breakup Read Free Page A

new blue flats—the ones that my sister, Abbey, swore complimented my knee-length turquoise dress, which was not ruffled but gathered —in my hands, as my sneaker-clad feet stomped across the rocks and dirt of the field that separates my house from Madeline’s. The field was the place where we started hanging out in third grade when Madeline tried (unsuccessfully) to teach herself how to skip rocks down the long and narrow creek (I showed her how), where we hid from our parents when we got in trouble, where we played Pirates of the Caribbean, had picnics, and told each other all our secrets. It’s the place where we became best friends.
    The day I met her, she had just moved to the neighborhood and was hiding from her family, crying. She’d left the back door open and their dog had gotten out and they couldn’t find him. “He doesn’t know this neighborhood,” she’d sniffed. “He’ll never find his way back.”
    â€œSure he will,” I’d told her. “I once saw this thing on TV about a dog that was on a flight to San Francisco from Florida. He escaped when they unloaded his crate and four months later he showed up back on their doorstep. In Florida! ”
    She’d looked at me through wet eyes. “Is that true?”
    â€œI wouldn’t lie.”
    Then she told me the real part of her problem. A secret. It was the first one we’d shared with each other.
    â€œI told my parents that my brother, Josh, let the dog out. They yelled at him and didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t do it. I didn’t say anything to stand up for him. Now they’re not letting him go to this BMX thing this weekend. He’ll probably never talk to me again. I mean, I feel really bad.”
    I didn’t know Madeline then and I didn’t want to judge her for what she’d done. So I swore I’d never tell a soul. And I didn’t. I didn’t tell anyone, and I didn’t even judge her for doing it. Right then, we became friends and that was all that mattered.
    The night of the dance the sun was just dipping behind the sloped roof of Madeline’s two-story house as I walked up the field toward the backdoor. I saw Miss Rachel, Madeline’s mom, through the door’s window, and walked right in.
    â€œI still think the pearls would look better,” she yelled toward the stairs.
    â€œMom!” Madeline’s voice rang down. “I’m not forty!”
    â€œThe black pearls,” Miss Rachel sighed. Then she turned to me, and the scowl on her face relaxed into asmile. “Hi, honey. Well, don’t you look pretty.” She put her hand on her slim hip as she inspected me. I tried to look as grown-up as I felt in my very first fancy dress. I had managed to properly brush my dirty-blonde hair, which I was growing out, and I’d even put a little flower clip in the side like I’d seen in a magazine.
    â€œVery nice,” Miss Rachel said, circling me like a modeling scout. “You girls are going to be heartbreakers.”
    I blushed. “Um, thanks.”
    I walked toward the staircase and yelled up, “Come on, Mads! If we leave now, we’ll be perfectly, fashionably late!”
    â€œDon’t come up!” she hollered back. “I want to make a grand entrance.”
    â€œOh, brother,” I said as I slipped on my blue flats, hoping they wouldn’t give me blisters.
    We were supposed to get dressed together at her house but she called earlier in the afternoon and said her mom and dad had gotten in a fight so the vibe there was definitely neg. Her mom just got a big promotion and the stress levels were maxing out.
    When Madeline finally came down, I wowed at her zebra-print dress with a wide, black patent leather belt and the long, layered black pearls draped around her neck. Her thick, amber hair was done in soft curls that lay on herbare shoulders, a stark contrast from the straggly