Max and I

Chapter Fifteen

This was my weekend, plus Monday, and Tuesday:

Saturday. No reply from Sonya.

Sunday. Monday. Tuesday.

No reply again.

I was getting annoyed. I meant I knew she was busy and everything, but really, for a whole week? She had to have the same email. So her mother must have been extremely mad at me.

I wished I had never done thing and never given Sonya the plant. I decided to ask Mom if she could tell me about Sonya's mother.

"Mom?" I asked, coming down the hallway.

"Yes, Meg?" Mom looked like she was washing clothes again.

"Can I have a word?" I said.

"Sure. Come to me. I'm in the bathroom. I can't hear you at all."

I went down to the bathroom and asked Mom, "Do you remember Sonya?"

"Yes, Meg, she was in your second-grade class."

"I know. It's not the point. Her mother hates me. I poisoned Sonya, remember?"

"Meg. That was back a long time ago."

"I know, Mom," I said. "Does her mom hate me for doing that?"

"Margaret, why are you suddenly remembering about Sonya? Who is she to you right now?"

"My friend. My former wonderful friend."

"I thought she played tricks on you and stuff like that."

"No. Well, yes. But she was still really nice. Sometime this year, I had a memory of sitting in the backyard."

"What about Sophia?" Mom asked. "She's nice to you."

"No. Not anymore. She's acting like we're in a love-hate relationship, I don't know..." My voice trailed off.

"So what?"

"So we're not friends, and I never had any friends. Well, best friends."

"Meg, have you talked about friendships since you were at least five?" Mom asked.

"Oh yeah." I remembered the warning from Max, when the whole crush and friendship had started. He smiled at me. I asked him a question on friends. He said I should not have that many and that he didn't have any either.

Mom folded the clothes up and went over to her room. She placed them on her bed.

I went and opened up my notebook and tried to look at my note I'd written yesterday, but I thought it was dumb. I threw it away, and I wrote a new note: "Defeat Mom and ask her a question she won't answer." I threw the pen back on the table. That was my goal.

For today, at least.

I had one for tomorrow.

Make. Sonya. Reply.

I was doing my homework, curled up like a snake on my bed the following day. Dad had gotten some new notebooks and said they were for school.

"Sure," I said. I held my hand and felt the phone case under my bed. I opened it up and pulled out the phone.

"You still like texting," Dad said.

"I guess. I need an urgent reply from somebody and she's not going to."

"Why?"

"None of your business. I mean, I'm sorry Dad. It's kind of private." I turned my phone on.