colleges look very favorably on homeschooling, and —”
“Homeschooling?”
Claire shrieks. Across the room I hear her mom gasp too. “Bree,” Claire says firmly, “you CANNOT do homeschooling! That’s only for spelling bee champions. Not for future Prom Princesses!”
“Tell me about it!” I wail. “Mrs. Rockport, do some-thing!”
Claire’s mom steps forward and clears her throat. “Um, three years you say? That’s a bit longer than Claire had indicated.”
“Mom!” Claire cries. “Bree’s my best friend. You have to let her stay!”
Her mother doesn’t say anything, but mine does. “Girls, I’m sorry, but we’re moving as a family. And right now we have to get home and start sorting through our things. I’m sure the two of you will keep in touch. Nothing has to change.”
Everything
will change. I’ll talk to trees for company, and Claire will become best friends with Lara Rudy, who’s been trying to worm her way between us since the fourth grade. My hair will lose all its sheen by being subjected to harsh outdoor conditions. I’ll lose my sense of style and start wearing pink with red and last season’s shoes. Meanwhile, Claire will discover deep conditioning treatments and get her nose fixed and she’ll be chosen Prom Princess instead of me.
I throw my arms around her and we both burst into tears. I can see the mothers rolling their eyes at each other, which makes me cry even harder.
“I’ll spend every day until you leave with you,” Claire promises, her mascara halfway down her face. Mrs. Rockport clears her throat. “Actually, Claire, we’re leaving tomorrow for your grandmother’s seventy-fifth birthday party in Boca. Remember? We’ll be gone for a week.”
This makes us cry all over again. I cling to her, hoping it will make the chilling fear go away.
“Wait here,” Claire says, pulling away. “I want to give you something.” She runs upstairs while I shoot my mom such a look that she turns away and feigns interest in the gold silk drapes.
Claire runs back down and hands me her modeling scrapbook. I look up at her in surprise. “You’re giving me your Book? But you’ll need it.”
“I’ll start another one,” she says, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. “You’re the one who inspired me in the first place. You should have it. It will help you remember me.” She bursts into tears again and I hug her with the Book clutched tight to my chest.
“Okay, girls,” my mother says, gently prying us apart. “This isn’t going to get easier if you drag it on. You’ll still visit each other, I promise. This isn’t forever.”
I wipe my eyes and drag my hand under my nose, sniffling. I shouldn’t expect Mom to understand. Dad is, like, her only friend. How will I know who I am if I’m not Claire’s best friend and co-leader of the A-Clique? My whole life has been about being at the top of the social hierarchy. And I got there in spite of my family’s nerdosity. Now they want me to abandon that and, what, wallow in obscurity during the prime of my life?
After one last crying session complete with promises to write every day, I let Mom lead me out the door and back to the van. I don’t think I have any more tears left in me. Dad and Melanie try to be nice on the way home by offering to help me go through my stuff for the garage sale, but I ignore them. They’re too cheery and it’s making me feel worse. Mom and Dad talk excitedly about how beautiful the campsite is. Unspoiled land, a big lake with fish and frogs, babbling stream with gold nuggets. Mom says witnessing an eclipse is something people wait their whole lifetime for, but they’re rarely in the right place at the right time. I don’t understand how you can have an eclipse in one place and not in another, since there’s only one sun, but I don’t want to encourage them by asking questions about it. She babbles on about how it’s going to be so exciting to watch the eclipse with people from all over
“Homeschooling?”
Claire shrieks. Across the room I hear her mom gasp too. “Bree,” Claire says firmly, “you CANNOT do homeschooling! That’s only for spelling bee champions. Not for future Prom Princesses!”
“Tell me about it!” I wail. “Mrs. Rockport, do some-thing!”
Claire’s mom steps forward and clears her throat. “Um, three years you say? That’s a bit longer than Claire had indicated.”
“Mom!” Claire cries. “Bree’s my best friend. You have to let her stay!”
Her mother doesn’t say anything, but mine does. “Girls, I’m sorry, but we’re moving as a family. And right now we have to get home and start sorting through our things. I’m sure the two of you will keep in touch. Nothing has to change.”
Everything
will change. I’ll talk to trees for company, and Claire will become best friends with Lara Rudy, who’s been trying to worm her way between us since the fourth grade. My hair will lose all its sheen by being subjected to harsh outdoor conditions. I’ll lose my sense of style and start wearing pink with red and last season’s shoes. Meanwhile, Claire will discover deep conditioning treatments and get her nose fixed and she’ll be chosen Prom Princess instead of me.
I throw my arms around her and we both burst into tears. I can see the mothers rolling their eyes at each other, which makes me cry even harder.
“I’ll spend every day until you leave with you,” Claire promises, her mascara halfway down her face. Mrs. Rockport clears her throat. “Actually, Claire, we’re leaving tomorrow for your grandmother’s seventy-fifth birthday party in Boca. Remember? We’ll be gone for a week.”
This makes us cry all over again. I cling to her, hoping it will make the chilling fear go away.
“Wait here,” Claire says, pulling away. “I want to give you something.” She runs upstairs while I shoot my mom such a look that she turns away and feigns interest in the gold silk drapes.
Claire runs back down and hands me her modeling scrapbook. I look up at her in surprise. “You’re giving me your Book? But you’ll need it.”
“I’ll start another one,” she says, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. “You’re the one who inspired me in the first place. You should have it. It will help you remember me.” She bursts into tears again and I hug her with the Book clutched tight to my chest.
“Okay, girls,” my mother says, gently prying us apart. “This isn’t going to get easier if you drag it on. You’ll still visit each other, I promise. This isn’t forever.”
I wipe my eyes and drag my hand under my nose, sniffling. I shouldn’t expect Mom to understand. Dad is, like, her only friend. How will I know who I am if I’m not Claire’s best friend and co-leader of the A-Clique? My whole life has been about being at the top of the social hierarchy. And I got there in spite of my family’s nerdosity. Now they want me to abandon that and, what, wallow in obscurity during the prime of my life?
After one last crying session complete with promises to write every day, I let Mom lead me out the door and back to the van. I don’t think I have any more tears left in me. Dad and Melanie try to be nice on the way home by offering to help me go through my stuff for the garage sale, but I ignore them. They’re too cheery and it’s making me feel worse. Mom and Dad talk excitedly about how beautiful the campsite is. Unspoiled land, a big lake with fish and frogs, babbling stream with gold nuggets. Mom says witnessing an eclipse is something people wait their whole lifetime for, but they’re rarely in the right place at the right time. I don’t understand how you can have an eclipse in one place and not in another, since there’s only one sun, but I don’t want to encourage them by asking questions about it. She babbles on about how it’s going to be so exciting to watch the eclipse with people from all over
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