Vanilla Girl

J a m o c a A l m o n d - F u d g e

"Do it!"

"No."

"Do it!"

"I don't know..."

"You have thirty seconds before I turn on my heel and leave."

"But what if---"

"Do it!!!"

Wyona huffs.

"Fine."

I throw my head back, shoulders sagging in relief. Praise Jesus.

She takes a step forward tugging at the hem of her leather jacket, but then her brow furrows as she stops to think things through. A second later her feet start backing away from the sliding doors.

This has been going on for fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes we've spent arguing like two kids out of kindergarten.

"Do it." I hiss.

Her brown eyes narrow in on me. "Stop it! You are pressuring me! I can't think straight when you do that."

"What's there to think?!" I match her tone, folding my arms in front of my chest.

She'd already spent hours thinking it through, planning the best approach, memorizing lines, how much more time does she want?

She lets out a deep nervous breath. "You say that because you aren't me! It's easy to sound brave when all you have to do is stand there."

"Wyona," I say, rubbing one side of my face. "If you don't go in there right now I will."

"What?!"

"I'll go straight to the counter and tell him you like him. You know I will." I finish.

She regards me with a disbelieving expression. "You can't."

"Try me." I threaten.

"Adaline!"

"What? I need to be home in ten minutes, Lou needs his milk and I can't trust him with my sister for more than a half hour." I defend myself.

I know I'm being a terrible friend, but hey! I've got better things to do than spend the afternoon away outside Toni's ice cream parlor.

"You are the worst friend in the entire world." She mutters.

"Yeah, well," I dismiss her comment with a wave. "But you are stuck with me.

"Unfortunately."

I ignore her remark.

"Came on! What could be the worst thing to happen?"

"What if I make the ridiculous in front of him? What if he laughs at me? What if he turns me down? What if he throws an ice cream at my face?---"

"Then you throw one back at his. Easy." I cut in.

"You are not funny."

"Yes, I think I am."

Wyona groans. "This is what my life has turned into. How depressing."

"I'm not pressing you!" I argue.

She gives me a flat look. "I said depressing. De-pre-ssing."

I narrow my eyes, not liking one bit how she emphasized each syllable as if I had brain damage.

"--and you are pressuring me."

"Not."

"Yes."