FRIENDS FOREVER
Young Adult Novel about friendship lost, then found again, with a touch of romance. Available as an e-book for Kindle BUY
Chapter Two
Later, Debbie splashed cold water on her face in a vain attempt to get rid of the evidence of tears. The effort had only a marginal effect on the redness of her eyes, but maybe she’d get lucky and nobody would look that close.
She walked into the dining area of the large kitchen where her little sister, Becky, sat at the table, crayons strewn across the polished wood surface in a cacophony of color. She had a piece of construction paper and was filling in petals on a flower. “Look, Debbie. I’m an artist like Mommy.”
Debbie smiled. She had to admit, for a five-year-old the kid was pretty good. She tugged playfully on her sister’s pony tail. “That’s awesome, little Sis.”
Her mother looked up from the magazine she was leafing through and smiled at Debbie. “Are you feeling better?”
“What’s wrong with Debbie.” Becky stopped coloring. “Nothing’s the matter,” Mom answered. “Why don’t you take your things into the other room so we can fix dinner?”
Becky collected her crayons and paper and bounced out of the kitchen. She bounced everywhere she went, with her long blonde ponytail bobbing along behind. It made Debbie absolutely sick. Why couldn’t she have long beautiful hair like that? If Becky weren’t her sister she’d hate her as much as she hated Angie.
Once Becky was out of the room, Debbie turned to her mother. “Sorry I shouted before.”
“That’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to be rude. Let’s just forget it and get dinner started. Your father will be home from work soon.”
A recent change in her dad’s work schedule brought him home an hour earlier than before, and her mother was still trying to adjust. Sometimes she’d be in the middle of a painting and realize he was on his way. Then she’d freak, running around in a panic trying to clean up the mess of paints and brushes and dirty rags so she could start cooking.
Debbie found it all a bit comical. Her dad didn’t care what the house looked like when he got home. Or when dinner was ready. If he was hungry, he’d just fix supper himself. And he was proud of her mother’s painting. He acted like a carnival barker at art shows and was probably responsible for most of her sales.
“What’s planned for dinner?” Debbie asked.
“Hamburgers. Macaroni and cheese. I’ll grill, so why don’t you start the macaroni. When Tommy comes in, have him set the table.”
“Okay. Where’s Michael?”
“Asleep. His ‘late nap in front of the TV’ trick.”
Her mother pulled a platter of hamburger patties out of the refrigerator and went out the sliding glass door to the deck.
Debbie grabbed a large pan and filled it with water, adding a sprinkle of salt before she put it on the stove. She tried not to think about what Angie and Lauren were doing, but she couldn’t help it. They were probably having a lot more fun than she was.
Trying to distract herself, she watched the bubbles slowly rise in the water and munched on a raw noodle. The front door slammed open and she heard Tommy call out, “What’s for dinner?”
Debbie walked to the doorway. “Shut up. “You’ll wake up Michael.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” Tommy said, walking past her into the kitchen. “Where’s Mom?”
“Out back grilling hamburgers.”
“What’re you doing?”
“Fixing macaroni.”
“Ugh. I’m not eating anything you touched.”
“Fine. You don’t have to. But you do have to set the table.”
“Who said?” Tommy snagged a cookie out of a jar on the counter.
“Put that back.”
Tommy stuck his tongue out at her and ran out of the room.
“Tommy.” Debbie followed him to the doorway. “You get back here and set the table. Right now.”
“Gotta go to the bathroom.”
“I wish he’d go to Timbuktu,” Debbie muttered, turning and going back to the stove.
“Who’s going to Timbuktu?” Debbie’s father asked, coming in the back door.
“Oh, hi, Dad.” Debbie kissed her father’s cheek, grazing her lips lightly over the stubble of beard. “Tommy should. He’s giving me a hard time about setting the table.
“Thomas!” Dad called, using his no-nonsense tone. “Get in here right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tommy hurried into the kitchen, a groggy-looking Michael tottering behind him. Dad picked up Michael and swung him high in the air. The boy squealed in delight. After setting the little boy down, Dad solemnly offered his hand to his other son. Tommy had this thing about being too old for kid stuff like hugs and kisses and touching the ceiling.
“Hello, Tom,” Dad said.
“Hello, Sir.” Tommy did his best imitation of a formal handshake. “How are you?”
Debbie turned away for a moment so he couldn’t see her snicker.
“Fine. Just fine. Think I’ll go change. Unless there’s something you need me to do.” Her father gave Debbie a questioning look.
“No, Daddy. Tommy will set the table.” She shot a triumphant look at her brother. He couldn’t stick his tongue out at her now. Not in the middle of his ‘look how grown-up I am’ routine.
Dad nodded and walked out of the room. Debbie put a hand over her mouth, afraid she was going to burst out laughter. When the urge was under control, she took her hand away. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Shaking hands with your own father.”
“Get lost!”
Tommy stomped into the dining room and Debbie could hear the clatter of dishes. Now she did laugh as she stirred the sauce for the macaroni.
Out of nowhere came an image of Lauren and Angie laughing together, and suddenly Debbie didn’t feel so happy anymore. She felt something warm on her cheek and took a vicious swipe at the tear she found there. She had to find a way not to think about Lauren and Angie all the time. She couldn’t spend her whole life crying.
The tears stayed away, but Debbie felt a weight of sadness amidst the chaos of the family settling down to dinner. It was usually fun to watch every one fix their hamburgers; especially Tommy who had to put the condiments and vegetables on in a precise order. But it wasn’t fun tonight. Debbie alternated between wanting to cry and wanting to scream. She stirred her macaroni in small circles on her plate, trying to keep focused.
“What’s the matter with Debbie tonight?” Dad asked as he handed his wife the plate with sliced tomatoes.
“Just a minor problem with one of her friends.”
It’s not a minor problem. Why can’t they understand?
“I wondered. It’s not like her to be so quiet.” Her father laughed. “Figured she must be sick or something.”
“I am not sick.” Debbie slammed her fork down. “And I wish you wouldn’t talk as if I wasn’t here.”
The outburst silenced the clatter of dishes and silverware and everyone looked at Debbie in surprise. Even Michael stopped banging his spoon and considered her with unblinking blue eyes. Dad sat forward in his chair, his eyes flashing in anger. “That is no way to talk, young lady.”
Debbie swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting back the tears. Here she was ready to cry again, and she wanted to scream in frustration. Finally, she forced words past the constriction in her throat. “Sorry. Guess I’m just a little grumpy tonight.”
“You’re always grumpy,” Tommy said.
“Who asked you?”
“Okay, Okay,” Mom held up one hand. “That’s enough arguing.”
“We wouldn’t argue if he’d just keep his big mouth shut.”
“I said that’s enough.”
The tone of her mother’s voice made it clear to Debbie that this had gone as far as would be tolerated. She reined in her emotions and picked up her fork again. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Mom glanced at Debbie, then around the table. “Let’s finish in peace.”
After dinner, Debbie helped her father with dishes then read a story to Becky. When she was busy she didn’t think about Lauren so much, but as the rest of the evening stretched ahead with nothing to do, the anxiety came flooding back. Maybe she’d feel better if she talked to Lauren.
Debbie took the portable phone up to her room and punched in the numbers. She wished she had a cell like Lauren, but her parents said not until she was sixteen. That was two years and three months, but it might as well be forever.
After several rings, Lauren answered.
“Hey, it’s me,” Debbie said.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just chilling after supper.”
Debbie was relieved to hear her friend sounding like the Lauren from before, happy to talk to her best friend. Then the conversation took a nosedive when Lauren went on and on about how all the boys on the football team flirted with Angie that afternoon. Debbie bit her lip. She didn’t want to hear it. But she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be hateful.
“You really should’ve come along,” Lauren said.
“You know how it is around here.” Debbie forced lightness in her voice she didn’t feel. “Did you see Brad?”
“Yeah. Boy, is he hot or what. We couldn’t tell where the pads left off and his shoulders started.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“For a minute. Actually, he talked more to Angie than the rest of us.”
Debbie’s heart fell to her toes. She should have gone with them. “We can go again tomorrow.” She wanted to say ‘without Angie’ but bit those words back. “Maybe he’ll talk to me.”
“Forget it,” Lauren said. “You don’t have a chance.”
Stunned, Debbie didn’t know what to say. Had Lauren really meant that the way it sounded? “That’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“I wasn’t trying to be mean,” Lauren said. Debbie wished she could see her friend’s face to be assured that she meant it. “I was just being realistic.”
There it was again. A put down.
“I can’t believe you said that.” Debbie fought to hold her tears back. “That’s not the way best friends talk to each other.”
“Then maybe we aren’t best friends anymore,” Lauren shouted.
“Okay, fine...” Debbie found that she couldn’t say another word because of the lump in her throat. She pushed the OFF button on the phone and barely resisted the impulse to throw it across the room.
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