It’s the Friday evening of spring break, and this one is no different than all the Friday evenings we’ve had for as long as I can remember.
In a red booth in the back corner of the vintage diner, Abby sits with her usual order–a Diet Coke and an order of fried pickles. Her auburn curls are pulled up into a ponytail, giving her forest green eyes a clear field of vision as she pins me with a look that pierces through my bullshit.
I’m across from her, nursing a vanilla milkshake with much more restraint than I showed the basket of fries that already sits empty at the edge of the table.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Ellie, you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she shoots back with a stern glare. “When was the last time you waited for me after lunch to walk to biology?”
I try to interrupt to remind her that she switched biology periods so we aren’t in the same class anymore, but she’s hit her stride and there’s no stopping her now.
“Or the last time you called me, well after my bedtime, mind you, to lament about your so-called boredom with this town before admitting that youactuallycalled me to help you pick what to wear the next day?”
Once again, I open my mouth to interrupt, but she powers through my protests.
“I know what you’re going to say, and don’t even try it, Eleanor Turner. Sleepovers are inevitable so they don’t count. My point stands that I feel like I never see you anymore.”
Hearing my full government name coming out of her mouth is weird. It doesn’t sound right when it’s not in a deep Southern drawl. But she’s on to something. When the school year first started, Abby and I had a built-in safety blanket in each other. We made sure we walked to class together, never ate lunch by ourselves, and made contact in the halls as often as we could.
That’s changed since I became part of “Ellie & The Dudes.” (David’s idea for a nickname, there was no room for argument.)
“I’m sorry for neglecting you, my poor sweet ginger angel,” I apologize dramatically, using the nickname that stuck when I first gave it to her in second grade. “I guess I have been a little more absent than normal.”
“Probably has something to do with your new boys,” she says with a pointed look at me.
“First of all, they’re notmyboys, they’re just…boys. And they’re my friends. You can’t honestly say you haven’t made a single other friend in the last 6 months.”
I know she has–after our first semester journalism class, Abby dove head-first into the school newspaper sphere. She and the other future Pulitzer winners can usually be found huddled together, talking about whatever subject NPR covered that morning.
“That’s not my point at all,” she continues. “My point is that you’ve made friends withtheboys, and for the first time in our lives I feel like I’m dragging information out of you instead of listening to you monologue about every detail of your current events. Is there something more going on there than just friendship? Perhaps with a certain enemy turned not-an-enemy-after-all?”
My eyes wander around the diner, looking everywhere except hers. When my gaze makes its way back to her face, she’s got her hands folded on the table, looking annoyingly persistent.
“No, not at all. There just isn’t much to share, we mostly just goof around. Nothing monologue worthy,” I say with a shrug, keeping my eyes down toward my lap while I pick at the hem of my powder blue sweater dress. I absolutely donothave anything to monologue about when it comes to a certain brown-eyed cowboy.
“Yeah okay, whatever you say,” she says, eyes rolling. “But when you start dating him, I’m going to bake myself an I-told-you-so cake and make you serve it to me.”
Before I can argue back, my phone dings. Assuming it’s my mom telling us she’s on her way to pick us up, I rummage through my bag and pull my phone out. Instead of my mom’s name, I see Griffin Hart on the text notification.
Griffin: Eleanor, come over!!!!
David: ELLIE THESE BOZOS ARE SO BORING I MIGHT DIE
Jack: Please free me from this prison.
Laughing, I type out a quick response.
Ellie: Can’t, I’m with Abby.
David: You have a sleepover with her every weekend
David:You never hang out with us :(
Ellie: I literally talk to you all day every day.
David: But you’ve never hung out with us outside of school
David:Do we embarrass you?
Jack: You are embarrassing. That’s not her fault.
