but there wasn’t enough money in there, so they called our parents.” Mitch waved at a group of girls standing at the edge of the bridge, staring and pointing at his outfit. With his wig and fake boobs, he was one of the girliest men on the bridge, but he didn’t seem to care. Mitch honestly didn’t worry about what other people thought of him. It was one of his best, and most enviable, traits.
“Okay, fine,” I said, smiling. “But you two should have known better than to listen to a nine-year-old.”
“You were very persuasive, always have been,” Mitch said, something in his voice making me glance over my shoulder.
Even his wig, dress, and padding couldn’t detract from the intensity of his look. He was thinking about something other than little kids getting in trouble for riding their bikes too far from home.
For a second, the air between us hummed with that “not just friends” energy, but then he stuck his tongue out at me and it was over. It probably had never been there in the first place. I was just having a hard time forgetting the things I didn’t need to remember anymore.
I turned around, pinning my eyes on Isaac, who had come to the end of the bridge and was turning his bike around with some kind of crazy wheelie.
“And we were only ten. Boys are dumb at ten.” Isaac’s front wheel plunked back to the ground. He pulled at the neck of his sparkly gown. “Dudes, I’m about done being a girl. It’s too itchy. Ya’ll want to take these clothes back and go get a beer? You’ve got a fake ID, right, Mitch?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Mitch shrugged. “I’m not up for beer yet, but I’m definitely in for some music. Legends has good stuff on Sundays and it’s all ages until seven o’clock so Katie won’t have any trouble getting in.”
“Awesome. You in, babe?”
“Sounds perfect.” And it did. The perfect end to a perfect afternoon with my two best friends.
I was so glad Mitch had invited himself on our date. He and Isaac and I hadn’t had so much fun together in years. I couldn’t believe we’d nearly lost this. Friendships like ours were rare, special, not the kind of thing you tossed away because you were too busy with basketball or your band or angry with your boy-friend and had a few too many shots of rum.
The three of us had too much history to let it all slip away. Thanks to the locket, we’d gotten a second chance to save our friendship. This wasn’t just about me and Isaac, it was about all of us. Three lives were going to be better because of my do over.
I pumped a little harder, catching up with the boys, full of enough energy to light up every honky-tonk on Broadway.
Chapter Five
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 12:24 P.M.
L unch hour is the most overrated forty-five minutes of the entire school day.
Even at a well-funded school like BHH, the cafeteria food stinks, the lines are horrible, and the choice of where to sit is fraught with dangerous social implications. Last year, Isaac and I hadn’t had the same lunch, so I’d sat with Mitch, Michael—the drummer in his band—Sarah, and a couple of our drama-club friends. I’d missed seeing Isaac but enjoyed significantly lower stress levels than the year before, when I’d shared a table with Isaac and the other platinum people.
This year, however, I’d been lucky enough to get second lunch with my senior boyfriend. Or unlucky enough, depending on the day and whether Rachel Pruitt decided to eat lunch on campus and bless us with her shining presence.
Today was a “blessed” day.
“It’s going to be amazing, Isaac.” Rachel stabbed a tomato from her salad, managing to make even that simple movement elegant, perfect. Her dark brown hair caught the sunlight streaming in from the nearby windows and gleamed like the coat of a ridiculously expensive horse, attracting the attention of every male passing by our table. “You and Rader should come with us to Ziggies to pick out outfits. You’d be great
“Okay, fine,” I said, smiling. “But you two should have known better than to listen to a nine-year-old.”
“You were very persuasive, always have been,” Mitch said, something in his voice making me glance over my shoulder.
Even his wig, dress, and padding couldn’t detract from the intensity of his look. He was thinking about something other than little kids getting in trouble for riding their bikes too far from home.
For a second, the air between us hummed with that “not just friends” energy, but then he stuck his tongue out at me and it was over. It probably had never been there in the first place. I was just having a hard time forgetting the things I didn’t need to remember anymore.
I turned around, pinning my eyes on Isaac, who had come to the end of the bridge and was turning his bike around with some kind of crazy wheelie.
“And we were only ten. Boys are dumb at ten.” Isaac’s front wheel plunked back to the ground. He pulled at the neck of his sparkly gown. “Dudes, I’m about done being a girl. It’s too itchy. Ya’ll want to take these clothes back and go get a beer? You’ve got a fake ID, right, Mitch?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one.” Mitch shrugged. “I’m not up for beer yet, but I’m definitely in for some music. Legends has good stuff on Sundays and it’s all ages until seven o’clock so Katie won’t have any trouble getting in.”
“Awesome. You in, babe?”
“Sounds perfect.” And it did. The perfect end to a perfect afternoon with my two best friends.
I was so glad Mitch had invited himself on our date. He and Isaac and I hadn’t had so much fun together in years. I couldn’t believe we’d nearly lost this. Friendships like ours were rare, special, not the kind of thing you tossed away because you were too busy with basketball or your band or angry with your boy-friend and had a few too many shots of rum.
The three of us had too much history to let it all slip away. Thanks to the locket, we’d gotten a second chance to save our friendship. This wasn’t just about me and Isaac, it was about all of us. Three lives were going to be better because of my do over.
I pumped a little harder, catching up with the boys, full of enough energy to light up every honky-tonk on Broadway.
Chapter Five
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 12:24 P.M.
L unch hour is the most overrated forty-five minutes of the entire school day.
Even at a well-funded school like BHH, the cafeteria food stinks, the lines are horrible, and the choice of where to sit is fraught with dangerous social implications. Last year, Isaac and I hadn’t had the same lunch, so I’d sat with Mitch, Michael—the drummer in his band—Sarah, and a couple of our drama-club friends. I’d missed seeing Isaac but enjoyed significantly lower stress levels than the year before, when I’d shared a table with Isaac and the other platinum people.
This year, however, I’d been lucky enough to get second lunch with my senior boyfriend. Or unlucky enough, depending on the day and whether Rachel Pruitt decided to eat lunch on campus and bless us with her shining presence.
Today was a “blessed” day.
“It’s going to be amazing, Isaac.” Rachel stabbed a tomato from her salad, managing to make even that simple movement elegant, perfect. Her dark brown hair caught the sunlight streaming in from the nearby windows and gleamed like the coat of a ridiculously expensive horse, attracting the attention of every male passing by our table. “You and Rader should come with us to Ziggies to pick out outfits. You’d be great
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