Friends ForNever (18 page)

“What's going on? What's wrong?” asked Libby.

I unlocked my eyes from Nicole's and turned toward Libby. “Nothing. We were just talking.”

I tapped softly on the screen door in case somebody was inside. When I didn't hear anything, I opened the door and stepped in. The cabin was empty. Everyone was at activities.

Strange. Everything looked so different. If I didn't know this was Cabin 4 from the number on the door, I would think I was in the wrong cabin. The first thing I noticed was that the two sets of bunk beds on Side B weren't there. Now there were two singles and one set of bunk beds. I stood still for a few minutes, looking around. Then I tiptoed over to Side B.

I wasn't sure why I was being so quiet. I didn't need to be. Maybe because I was trespassing, in a way. This wasn't my cabin anymore. If any of the Cabin 4 girls walked in, they'd be surprised to see me, just like I'd be surprised to come home and find one of my neighbors snooping around in my house.

One of the single cots was pushed up against the wall—that was the spot I wanted to look at. I stood in front of the bed, leaning over so I could look at the wall. I didn't want to sit on whoever's bed this was with the yellow sheets and the purple cotton blanket.

Where was it? It had to be here someplace. It should be right here. But I couldn't find it. Last year our bunk beds had been against this wall. I knew this had to be the right spot. I was about to go ahead and sit on the bed so I could see better, but then I looked a little higher, and there it was. It was higher up than I remembered it.

DARCY AND NICOLE
, written with a red Sharpie. Then under it,
BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!!!
Nic had been the one to write three exclamation marks. And the date.
JULY 5
. One year and three days ago. But it seemed longer.

We'd sat on Nic's bottom bunk to write it—Nic's bed with the pink-and-red polka-dot sheets—the same sheets that were on her bed right now in Cabin 3. It was right after dinner and everyone was leaving for evening program. We were the only ones in the cabin, and we'd decided we'd better sign the wall while we had a chance. We didn't want to wait till the last day of camp, when we'd be all sad and depressed.

I reached out and touched the rough wood. I wondered if any of this year's Cabin 4 girls had read this. So far this year, I hadn't gotten around to writing my name anywhere. It had seemed like I had plenty of time to do it.

I stood there and looked at the wall for a long time. I kept thinking I should leave, in case anyone walked in. If anyone did, I could easily explain why I was here—I'd just come by to find where I'd signed my name last year. No big deal. They wouldn't care. Graffiti covered the walls of all the cabins. Everyone signed her name somewhere.

Eventually I went back to my own cabin—Cabin 3. It was empty too. All summer long I had barely had a single moment by myself. And I wouldn't be alone now if I'd gone to afternoon activities like I was supposed to.

I sat on Nic's cot instead of mine, for some reason. I didn't really know why. Her bed was neatly made, with her pink blanket folded down so you could see the polka-dot sheets.

What if.
What if I'd come back one minute earlier or one minute later Sunday, and I hadn't overheard Nic talking? But if I was going to play that game, I could say what if I hadn't called Nic twisted, what if I'd slept better Saturday night, what if Blake had sprung up two inches higher and hadn't hit his head at all?

Would we still have had this fight?

Mom believes in destiny. She thinks everything happens for a reason. One time she told me that she really believed the only reason she had married Daddy was because Blake and I needed to be born, and that once that was taken care of, they were supposed to go their separate ways. At the time I didn't believe that; I was still hoping they'd work things out and stay together. But now I have to admit that everyone is a lot happier.

But why had destiny made our family happy when Nic's family still had problems? It was like they'd traded one set of problems for another. That didn't seem fair. I'm sure Nic wondered,
Why is Darcy's life turning out so great when mine is still a mess?
I couldn't blame her for thinking that. I would too, if I were in her shoes.

The screen door opened, and Sarah and Whitney came in.

“Hi,” said Sarah. She glanced at my empty bed and then back at me sitting on Nicole's bed. “We've been looking for you.”

“You found me.”

Whitney came over and sat on my bed. Sarah took a seat beside her. “Darcy, you've both had a chance to cool down a little. Now it's time for you to talk to each other,” said Whitney.

I shook my head.

“Don't try to get out of it! We're staging an intervention,” said Sarah.

It was so easy to tell everyone else what to do.
Go apologize. Just talk to her. Everything will work out.
I never once thought about how Sarah felt, or how Whitney felt. All the hurt feelings, the anger, the embarrassment. I didn't think about how that all got in the way and made everything so much harder.

I knew we should talk. I just didn't want to. And Nicole didn't either. It felt better to just avoid each other as much as possible.

“We've looked all over for Nicole, but we can't find her,” said Whitney. “She'll have to show up for dinner, and before evening program tonight Sarah and I are going to sit the two of you down and make you talk about this. I know neither one of you really wanted this to happen.”

That sounded odd. Of course we didn't want to have a big fight.

Or did we? It seemed like for days before it happened, Nic had been pushing me. Almost trying to make me mad. But why? Why was she mad at me? And I'd gotten fed up too. I was the one who started it by calling her twisted. Or did she start it with the argument over the tank top? But even before that, she'd said those things about maybe Mom having problems with her pregnancy. It was hard to trace back when exactly things started falling apart.

“Thanks, guys. I know you're trying to help. But I really don't want to talk to her. Yet. Maybe later.”

“No, not later. Today. You have to,” said Sarah. “We'll be there with you if you want us to. Or we'll leave you alone. Whatever. But you guys can't go another night without speaking to each other.”

“Maybe,” I said.

If Nic and I were forced to sit down and apologize, there was a chance everything could somehow be okay. The way I felt now, it didn't seem like it could work out, but it might. Maybe she'd be the old Nic, the one who wasn't always annoyed with me about something, the one who I could talk to in ways I couldn't talk to anyone else.

But when we all went to dinner, Nic wasn't there. I waited for Libby or Jamie to ask about her, but neither of them did. They started passing around plates and food dishes like nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

“Where's Nicole?” Sarah finally asked .

“Oh, she went to the infirmary,” said Libby. “After rest hour she told me she wasn't feeling well. I guess she's come down with that virus that's been going around.”

Sarah and Whitney looked at me. I could tell they were wondering what I was wondering—was Nicole really sick, or was she just avoiding me? She might really and truly be sick. Because I knew one thing—I'd never felt so bad in all my life.

Late in the afternoon, after activities were over, Nic came back. I looked up when she walked in the cabin door. Natasha and Ashlin were over on Side B, but everyone else was off someplace, doing other things.

“Hi,” I said. It was the first word I'd said to her since Sunday evening.

“Hi,” she answered. She dropped a plastic bag of clothes on her bed.

“How do you feel?” I asked.

“Better. My fever's gone, anyway.”

“You had a fever?” I asked. I guess she really was sick. Or maybe she'd made it up to make it sound better.

“Yeah. Not a high one—100.2. Where's Sarah?”

“She's with Whitney. Whitney's practicing for the talent show. She's going to play the violin. It's tomorrow night, you know.”

“Oh, yeah.” Nic smiled a little. “Well, with Whitney doing an act, Cabin Three is bound to win.”

Nic looked at the bag of clothes on the bed. “Libby brought me some stuff—my toothbrush and some clothes. That's your Pine Haven T-shirt,” she said, nodding to the green shirt that had spilled out of the plastic bag onto the bed. “I guess it was in my trunk. I wore it because that's the only shirt she brought me.” She picked up the shirt and handed it to me.

“I'm glad you're feeling better.”

Nic looked out the screen window. “I thought
maybe
you would've come to see me.”

I'd thought about it. Part of me wanted to go to the infirmary and check on her. But part of me was glad we didn't have to face each other. And I was sort of afraid to go. I imagined going to the nurse and asking to see Nicole, only to hear her voice yelling from some far-off corner,
Tell her to go away! Tell her I never want to see her again!

“I wasn't sure . . . if you could have visitors,” I said finally.

“You went across town to see Blake,” said Nic, still looking out the window. She was watching a red bird on a branch right by the windowsill.

“He's my brother,” I said, and the second I said that, I knew it was the wrong thing to say. But I couldn't take it back. I'd never be able to make it sound right. “I missed you, though,” I added.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I really did.”
I still do.

Nic didn't say anything for a long time. “Well, that's something at least.”

I sat cross-legged on my bed, my elbows propped on my knees, staring down at my green Pine Haven shirt in my lap. “I wish I could rewind everything and go back to . . .” To when? When would I like to turn things back to? To the last time we'd really had a good time together. Whenever that was. Was it the first dance when we picked out clothes together? It hadn't been
that
far back, had it? “I'm sorry I called you twisted. I didn't mean it. I was just so tired that morning. And worried about Blake.”

Nic had a strange smile on her face. “You know what I find the most interesting about all this?” she asked, turning away from the red bird to look at me.

“What?” I felt a tightness in my stomach, like I needed to brace myself.

“You said every mean thing you could think of—that stuff about my birthday, the restraining orders, Mary Claire. You sure didn't hold back.” Nic turned back to the window, but the red bird was gone now. “So much for the high road.”

I could solve lots of people's problems by sitting back and watching and saying,
This is what should happen
. That was the easy part. It ended up being a lot harder to take the high road than I thought it was.

“I know, I know. I wanted to get back at you. For telling everyone my father was an alcoholic. You know he's not.”

“You've said yourself that you think he might have a drinking problem. That you always have to watch him and count how many beers he has and make sure he's okay to drive. I didn't make that stuff up!” said Nicole, her voice rising with emotion.

“I told you it was better! It hasn't been like that for almost two years!” Why were we arguing about this, anyway? This wasn't what the fight was about.

Ashlin and Natasha left the cabin. They were the only ones who'd missed the big scene on Sunday, but no doubt everyone else had filled them in about it.

“I'm sorry I said all those things,” I told Nicole. “I wish I could take everything back. I just want things to be normal again.”

Nicole kept quiet. “Yeah. Me too,” she said at last.

What did that mean? That she was sorry too? That she was taking everything back too?