Forget Green Gables

Cheyanne, el Pollo

Despite the fact that Jamie and I share nearly everything with each other, I do not want to tell Jamie about my recent friendship with Jessie. I get home from practice, eat the celebratory Chinese food my father insisted on getting, and retreat to my bedroom. Considering the books on my shelf, I grab my duster and begin wiping the barely-discernible layer of dust off the books and shelf. My phone rings as I rearrange my fiction books.

Sometime in the sixth grade, our parents gave Felix and me our own phone lines. Felix had not managed to win the argument to get cable for his TV, but the TV was helpful when the occasional female called. I am not stupid-they do not all call for homework help, and even if they do ask for homework help, it is just an alibi for calling Felix to giggle in his ear for up to ten nauseating minutes, the time length on phone calls.

"Hello?" I ask into the cordless, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.

Jamie's voice rings clearly through the line. "How did tryouts go?"

"Um...I made varsity."

"Sweet! Who else?"

"Um, Erica, from church."

"Yeah, she's cool. Anyone else?"

"You mean Jessica Sloan?" I replace my duster in the closet and pull my blankets back, switching on the bedside lamp and grabbing my worn copy of Anne of Green Gables.

"Yeah," Jamie admits. I hear the whack-whack-whack of the tennis ball as it hits the floor, the wall, the floor. Throwing the ball helps her think, and she does not appreciate when I compare her to Toby on The West Wing.

"Um, she made Varsity."

"Oh. That's...uh...great?"

"She's not that bad..." I offer feebly. "Uh, I gotta go, Mom's yelling for me. See you Sunday!" I do not wait to hear what Jamie had to say in response. I return the hot pink cordless phone to its charger and flop down on my bed, staring up at the glow in the dark stars that cover the ceiling. When we were in the fourth grade, Jamie helped me put them in the forms of the constellations. It was only later that night as we lay staring up at the ceiling on the first sleepover that we realized we put them all up backward. Lying in bed next to Jaime, laughing at our mess up with the stars, I decided Jamie was my best friend. The eggshells I walk on do not seem so overwhelming when Jamie was around. Four years later, that is more true than ever.

I consider calling Danny to get his input, but glance at the clock and think better of it. Danny's mom is very strict and works with my dad in the math department at Michigan State University. Even if Danny manages to pick up, my father will still hear about the call tomorrow. That is a discussion I do not want to have with my dad. He already thinks I am 'advertising' myself via my earrings; I do not want to imagine what he would say to find out I am calling boys after 9:00 pm.

Opening my schedule, I review my classes again. Freshman Orientation had seemed far off, something to worry about after softball tournaments, tanning by the pool, and cheer tryouts. With cheerleading tryouts over, orientation the following week officially overwhelms me. I return my schedule to the desk. Flipping to a random page in my worn book, I read until I could no longer keep my eyes open.