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“What?” I scream at her. Two days ago, Bryan told her that her butt is big, and now she is picking him to be her future husband?
“Maddy! Shhh…it’s my choice. Write it down,” she says, pointing to the paper with her neon-green painted fingernail.
“Alright, but I don’t understand you at all.” I shake my head back and forth, writing it down and hoping that the rotation eliminates him. I love Macke
Luckily, Macke
“Not my best life but I’ll take it. I got my Range Rover.” Macke
I dig through my bag and pull out my purple binder, handing it over to her.
“Maddy, this time you ca
“I only did that once, Ke
“I’ve heard that before,” she says, tapping the pen on the paper.
I have known Trent my whole life. His brother, Doug, is Jack’s best friend. We have been thrown together during our brothers’ t-ball and football practices and games, as well as too many Cub Scout events to count. We would play together when we were little, but as we get older we tend to ignore each other, doing our own thing when forced to be around one another.
Macke
Today I hate Trent because, during recess, Evan Graham said that Trent asked him to ask me if Macke
At the end of my MASH, I am married to Jimmy Schmidt, the class clown, and drive a minivan around Alaska with only one child. Not even close to my best life. I throw my binder on the bench in front of me, leaning back to enjoy the sunshine.
“Let’s do it again,” Macke
“No, I’m tired. Let’s just relax.” I don’t open my eyes. I want to empty my mind and enjoy the peace, knowing it will end when Jack and I go home.
“You go ahead and relax; I am going to play some football.” Macke
I open one eye, peering down at her. I am jealous of her confidence. She just walks right up to the guys, grabs the football from Trent, and throws it to Bryan. The boys seem a
About fifteen minutes later, Macke
“Move your asses, Littles,” Trent’s brother Doug yells over to us. All the latchkey younger siblings are called “the Littles”. MacKe
None of us say anything as we venture down to the end of the gates to meet our older siblings.
“Let’s go Mad; we’re going over to the Basso’s for di
“I’ll be right there.” I hold up my finger and give Macke
“Hey, Maddy,” Trent says, turning his head to stare out the window.
“Hi, Trent,” I respond, staring out of my own window. That pretty much sums up our friendship lately. I have tried to figure out what happened to us but have come up with nothing.
We arrive at the Basso’s ten minutes later. They live on the outskirts of town and have acres of land with horses. Their house has a wraparound porch with flower baskets hanging out of every opening. It looks like something out of a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. As the Mustang comes to a stop at the top of their gravel driveway, their yellow lab greets us the second we open the door.
I bend down, letting Dixon climb on me while I pet him with both of my hands. I stand up and Dixon follows me to the front porch and into the house. I know this house as well as my own, since I have probably eaten di
“I was wondering when you guys were going to get here,” Mrs. Basso says to me over her shoulder while she prepares di
I sit on the stool at the breakfast bar, taking out my homework. “Hi, Mrs. Basso. Thank you for having us for di
“Oh Maddy, you are always welcome. You know that.” Mrs. Basso turns around, smiling at me. She is the epitome of the perfect mom. She works at the local library, always has di
“I know,” I say, and then begin to focus on my homework.
I am able to finish all of my homework while Mrs. Basso finishes di
“Di
Four boys come ru
“Hey, Madgirl. Long time no see,” Trent’s older brother, Gabe, says as he messes with my hair.
“Hi, Gabe,” I softly say. Gabe is fourteen and is a freshman at the high school. He doesn’t have to wait for Doug at practices because he is old enough to come home by himself.
“Where’s dad?” Doug asks, while stealing a roll out of the basket and devouring it. I can’t imagine how much food they must go through in this house with three boys.
I wonder why Mrs. Basso stays at home when her husband isn’t around. Not like my mom, who is gone as soon as my dad leaves town for a couple of days. They couldn’t be more different.
We eat the chicken and rice with broccoli, while the three older boys fight over the food. Trent is quiet, never looking up from his plate. I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much? After di
I take this as my chance to find out what Trent’s problem is and why he is so set on ignoring me lately.
“So, you like Ke
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug.
“You don’t know? Well, why did you ask Evan to ask me to ask her then?” I ask, looking at him out of the corner of my eye to try and read his expression.