Please don’t tell me my surprise is the guy.
More like he’s E’s surprise.
What do you mean by that?
They’re hooking up. But he’s a douche.
I lean back against my pillows, stunned. I can hear my little brother and sister squealing downstairs. I hear a bird chirping just outside my window and the next-door neighbor is playing his radio outside as he gardens, some easy listening station that makes me want to stab pencils in my ears.
They’re hooking up.
I’m a little…jealous? That guy is hot. And I’m also jealous over the photos with Em and Dustin. I miss them. I miss being a part of that friendship. The three of us against the world, it’s always been like that. And it always hurts when one of us is missing.
Most of the time I’m the one missing.
You don’t like him?
I sink my head farther into the pillows and close my eyes, waiting for Dustin’s reply. Everything’s changed this year. Last summer I was miserable and texting Em and Dustin every single day. And if we weren’t texting we were calling each other, though that was rare. What we loved to do most was FaceTime each other and watch movies together. Simple stuff.
Innocent stuff.
Now I’ve seen Dustin’s junk and he’s seen my boobs and we’ve swapped spit. It’s just all so…weird. Yet exciting. I sort of want to pursue more, but how do I tell him? How do we make this work without ruining everything? I don’t want Em to feel left out either…
I hear my phone and I open my eyes, grabbing it.
He’s okay. I guess Em needs the distraction.
What do you mean by that?
He doesn’t reply for a while and I start to get nervous, nibbling on my thumbnail, feeling like an idiot for even asking.
I’ll tell you when you come home. Hurry up. I miss you. :)
Aw. I miss him, too. A lot. We’ve known each other forever but grew extra close in fifth grade. I’ve been friends with Emily since middle school, when she first moved into the neighborhood. I love making friends with the new kids. It’s like a hobby of mine, one that Dustin used to make fun of.
“You take in all the strays,” he once teased me and I didn’t protest because he was right.
Looks like Em took over my hobby this summer and made friends with the new boy.
My phone dings again and I look at the screen.
When are you coming home? Em wants to throw you a party.
I wrinkle my nose. I don’t want a party.
Why? I don’t need that sort of thing.
That’s her surprise. She’s hanging with the popular crowd.
Really?
Yeah. They swim in her pool when her parents are at work.
Huh. They’re using her for her pool? That’s lame. I’m surprised she’d let them. Most of the popular crowd at our high school can be rude. Snobbish. I’m on the yearbook staff so I have to deal with them a lot. Some are nice. I can’t lump them all together as egotistical jerks, but a lot of them are. Em always agreed with me, saying she wanted real friends, not phony friends who only use each other.
Wonder when she changed?