I remember laughing hysterically and eating most of Deedee’s goldfish crackers. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, feeling like I was a part of something. The next day at lunch we found each other and just picked up where we left off. Mom was right. You make your tribe. Sometimes I hate it when she’s right, but not that time. Looking back on it, I think it had to be something like getting lost in the woods. Otherwise we might have just gone on ignoring each other. I don’t want to make it out to be some big gooey, sappy thing. We didn’t share the same pair of traveling pants or promise over spit shakes to be BFFs. We just kind of glommed together. And we managed to stay that way for two whole years. Just the four of us. Pretty much perfect. Then she came along. And the war started. And everything came unglued. That first Monday—after the cell phone crackdown—I went to my locker before seventh period to grab my Spanish notebook. Attached to the metal door above the combination was a sticky note. Standard yellow. From one of the packs that every student was required to buy at the start of the year for no real reason whatsoever.
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2/27/17 2:37 PM