Friendship for Dummies

Chapter Twenty-Three

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“You guys made out?”

            Ava, to say the least, is shocked. After nervously spilling the details of last night, my best friend looks about ready to pass out on the floor. Her mouth is wide open, and seems to be frozen in that position. Still, I can’t blame her. That probably would’ve been my reaction at the time if my own mouth hadn’t been… occupied.

            “Shh!” I hiss, all too aware of the fact we’re standing in the hallway, in earshot of probably half of the school. “Don’t say it so loudly!”

            It’s probably a bad idea to tell her before first bell, where everyone from the nerdiest freshman to the most obnoxious senior jock is swarming around, and I’m realizing this now. All it would take is for someone to overhear and whisper it to someone else, and that’s it – I’d probably be Charlotte’s murder victim by lunch. Even so, when I’d first seen Ava at the steps of the main entrance, my plan to tell her somewhere more private went out of the window. I had to admit to someone what had happened, and my trustworthy best friend seemed like a good place to begin.

            “Sorry!” she says, grimacing. “I just knew it! Didn’t I tell you he liked you?”

            “Well...” I can’t argue with her there. “You did, but... I’m still not convinced. I mean, as soon as the power came back on, he was back to freezing me out. He left without saying anything about it.”

            Ava’s jaw looks ready to hit the floor. “And you let him?”

            “Um...” Color rises to my cheeks and I look at my shoes. “I suppose I was a bit caught up in the moment.”

            She rolls her eyes.

            “I tried going to his house afterward, though,” I add, although I’ve been trying to push the memory out of my mind. The image of Charlotte’s death glare isn’t exactly something I want to keep on a long-term basis, and I’m kind of scared it’ll become a recurring theme of my nightmares. “He didn’t show up. But, uh... his girlfriend did.”

            This is a cue for Ava’s eyes to widen even further. It’s getting to the point where I’m wondering if I should stop with this story, in case all the juicy gossip is putting a strain on her heart or something. “Oh my God, Georgie. You’re  in for it now. So what happened? Catfight in his kitchen?”

            “Um, no. I got the hell out of there.”

            “Damn,” Ava swears, shaking her head, “it would’ve been good to see Charlotte finally put in her place.”

            “Yeah, like I could actually win a fight against her.” Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Don’t you remember? She took martial arts classes until seventh grade. Safe to say she could kick my ass without even trying.”

            I’m not even sure why I remember this detail. It’s not exactly like Charlotte and I were ever friends – just acquaintances, up until the whole sixth grade cafeteria incident. I suppose, in theory, I would’ve had her pinned as more of a glittery pageant kid (where else would she have perfected that sugary smile of hers?). But no; instead of twirling in pink dresses and sparkly eye-shadow, from a young age, she was learning to kick some serious butt.

            Which, you know, kind of makes her that little bit more scary.

            “Minor detail,” Ava dismisses, shrugging. “So what are you going to do now?”