Better Off Friends

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Right before lunch on my first day, I went up to this group of guys, introduced myself, tried to be calm, cool, and col ected. But I’m pretty sure I stank of desperation. I was able to tell right away that Keith, this beast of a guy, was the alpha in our grade. He always had a group of three or four other guys around him, and they were all wearing some sort of Wisconsin team T-shirt. Keith had on a Badgers hoodie and jean shorts. He was close to five foot ten and he towered over everybody, including most of the teachers. He wasn’t skinny and he wasn’t fat; he was just big.

He studied me as I approached him, and said, “What’s your

deal?” before I had a chance to introduce myself. I made some small talk and felt like I was on a job interview.

Then I made a fatal error. I should’ve known better.

I admitted to being a Chicago Bears fan.

I’m pretty sure I heard actual hissing.

I figured whatever, they’d tease me, like guys do. That was what I was expecting, hoping. Because if guys teased you, you were kinda in.

But after I grabbed my lunch, not one person would look at me

when I went to sit down. They were all too busy catching up with each other to notice the new guy standing there by himself. Instead of being this person everybody wanted to know more about, it was like I had leprosy or something. I kept being told that everybody in Wisconsin was so nice, but that wasn’t the feeling I got. It was more like I was an intruder on their turf. I was only halfway through my first day and I was miserable.

Then Macal an came along.

She total y saved me from the public humiliation of having to eat alone on my first day of school. From then on, I ate with her and her friends.

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At first I wasn’t sure what to make of Macal an coming over on

Wednesdays after school. The second we got to my house, she

opened up whatever homework she had and would sit there and

study until her dad came and got her. She only lightened up when I put on Buggy and Floyd. After a few Wednesdays, we started talking some more.

She was pretty cool. Like awesome cool, even though she could

sometimes be cold.

One Wednesday, about a month in, she had to stay longer than

usual. Mom came back from the store and said, “Macal an, sweetie, your dad just cal ed me. He’s running late, so you’re going to join us for dinner. Hope you like stir-fry.”

Macal an studied Mom from our place at the dining room table as Mom went into the kitchen and started unpacking her groceries. I tried to not laugh as Macal an’s face scrunched up. She always did that when she was studying, be it math or my mom. It was pretty adorable.

“Hey.” I tried to get Macal an’s attention back to me. “Do you

wanna play a video game or something?”

“I want to finish the outline for my English paper.” She started scribbling in her notebook.

I picked up the tattered book she was reading. “Miss Lulu Bett?”

I laughed. “You’re writing your author report on someone who wrote a book cal ed Miss Lulu Bett?”

Macal an reached her hand out for the book. “Can you please be

careful with that? It’s on loan from the library. It’s rare.”

I presented the book to her with both hands and a slight bow.

“And for your information, the author, Zona Gale, was born in

Wisconsin and was the first woman ever awarded the Pulitzer Prize 21

for Drama. It wouldn’t kill you to learn a little bit about the history of where you now live.”

“Uh-huh.” That was usual y my reply whenever Macal an tried

to educate me on pretty much anything. I did okay in school, I

got decent enough grades, but I wasn’t the ultimate student like she was.

She kept her attention on her notebook. “Who are you going to

write your report on? Dr. Seuss?”

“I do like green eggs and ham, Mac I am.”

She grimaced. “I don’t know why I even bother sometimes.”

She pretended to get back to work, but I could see the corners of her mouth start to turn.

I cautiously picked up the book again. “Maybe I should read this.

I wonder what kind of bet Miss Lulu placed.”

Macal an groaned. “Mrs. Rodgers, do you need any help with

supper?”

Mom popped her head into the doorway. “That’s okay. I think I’ve got it covered.”

But Macal an got up and went into the kitchen. “Are you sure?”

“Wel , if you want, you can help me cut up some vegetables.”

Mom gave her a smile.

Great, does this mean I have to help? I thought. Leave it to Macal an to make me look even more like a slacker.

Mom pul ed out some green and red peppers, zucchini, and

mushrooms from the grocery bag and handed Macal an the cutting

board and a knife. Macal an looked between the knife and vegetables like she was trying to solve a difficult equation. She held the knife to the pepper, first one way, then another.

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