Chapter 1—Bailey's POV
Once upon a time, there were four best friends, and they found a pair of magical pants…
Blah, blah, blah. I'd heard the story a thousand times. More, probably. My mom loved telling me stories from her childhood, and that one was her absolute favorite. And although the beginning sounded somewhat like a fairy tale, she was always assuring me it was a true story. Something that had actually happened to her.
My mom's name is Tibby McBrian. I hate her name. "Tibby" sounds so immature, like a five-year-old's name. She didn't do much better in choosing my name, either, though: Bailey. I've heard that story a thousand times, too. I was named after a girl who died of cancer. That's got to be a bad omen.
Anyway, back to my mom's "true story." Well, I suppose it has elements of truth. The four best friends, for example. I know they exist. I've met them, my mom's friends. They are crazy close, much closer than I've ever been to…well, anybody. They're okay, I guess. Except they all swear that the "magical pants" really existed. Yeah, right. How stupid do they think I am?
Oh, I guess I should amend that last part. "How stupid do they think WE are?" Yeah, we. Because my mom's friends all had daughters, too. I think they want us to be "crazy close" like they are, but it's just never worked that way. It never could. Ever.
Bridget's daughter's name is Laura. Laura looks exactly like her mother—in other words, tall, blond, and gorgeous. She knows it, too. You can tell by the way she swings her hair around, looks at non-gorgeous people like they're smushed-up flies, and is always dressed entirely in pink. She is shallow, superficial, and not much good at anything besides making people's self-esteem go down a couple notches.
Then there's Carmen. Carmen's daughter is named Dell. Actually, her name is Delilah, but she goes by Dell. Why, I have no idea. It's a totally weird name. Dell is super tall and skinny. She's a total tomboy. All she cares about is sports. I swear, she's never worn a dress in her life, and she'd probably sooner die than do so. She's very athletic, and I guess she isn't totally intolerable, but we have absolutely nothing in common, besides crazy mothers.
Last is Lena's daughter. Her name is Jennifer, but she usually goes by Jen. Jen is really quiet. Super shy. But unlike other shy people, once you get to know her, she doesn't reveal amazing talents or a lovable personality. She's just boring. I mean, she spends her spare time doing things like needlepoint. Eww! I've tried to talk to her…a couple times. A few years ago. Okay, when we were eight. But that's not the point. I said, "Hi Jen. What's up?" She said, "Nothing."
And that was all.
She just sat there, drinking Coke. I waited patiently. She didn't say anything. She hardly acknowledged my presence. Finally, I left.
I Boring/I
When we four were younger, our moms tried to push us together. They signed us up for ballet classes, summer day camps, soccer teams together. But we never clicked. And I think now, they've finally accepted that. Which is good.
But still, I'm forced to put up with Laura, Dell, and Jen sometimes. Our mothers blatantly ignore our dislike for each other and often arrange get-togethers. Barbecues, parties, you know. Adult stuff. And it sucks for us. Really. I just can't get close to those three the way our mothers are close.
It was summer, and while summer is undeniably the best time of the year, it has its cons. For example, the Fourth of July. Every single year, my mom organizes a huge cook-out with Bridget, Lena, and Carmen. They invite tons of people. One year, over one hundred people attended. I'm telling you, it's crazy.
I hate it. I am definitely not the most social person around, and especially not around Laura, Dell, and Jen. Although usually I manage to get some of my own friends invited to this big shindig, which helps.
Anyway, it was early June, but already my mom and her friends were in full-force planning for this year's big extravaganza. It was proving to be the wackiest one yet, I could tell, by their excited shrieks. (I swear, they were all around forty but they acted like teenagers.)
Today, they were planning at my house. They had been sitting in the kitchen since ten in the morning, sipping iced teas and jotting things like "Hamburgers, hot dogs, cake" and "Water balloon toss?" on notepads. Consequently, I spent the day trying to avoid them. Also consequently, by twelve-thirty, I was starving.
Rather than venture into the kitchen, though, and be devoured by those stupid niceties that I hate, I slipped some money into my pocket, grabbed my iPod, and headed out the door. It was actually a rather nice day out, not too hot, with a nice breeze blowing now and then. I was heading to McDonald's, but I decided to take a detour.
I turned left, walking down a shaded street lined with old houses. This was my neighborhood: old houses, old trees, old people. Hardly any other kids around, though I didn't mind too much, honestly. I was fine on my own.
"That you, McBrian?"
That was the voice of Brad Nickel, one of the few other kids around here. Brad was fifteen, a year older than me, and for some reason had always loved tormenting me. He was athletic and good-looking and was arrogant at times, your average popular jock guy. He had a massive thing for Laura and another massive thing for getting on my nerves.
"No, it's not," I replied, not looking at him.
Grinning idiotically, he came up next to me. "Where you going?"
"Nowhere."
He pulled one of my earbuds out of my ear and held it up to his, then wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I can't believe you listen to that crap."
"Hey, I like this song," I said defensively, snatching the bud back. I was listening to a Disney song from the animated movie I Pocahontas /I . Yes, I know, kind of lame, but I really did like the song.
"Do you know what Laura has on her iPod?" Brad asked.
I rolled my eyes. "God, Brad, could you be any more of a stalker? Who I cares /I what she has on her iPod?"
Brad shrugged. "Just wondering."
We walked along in silence for a few minutes. I was starting to regret taking this detour. "Okay, Brad, is there any specific reason you're still here?"
He shrugged again. "Nah, not really. Just bored. I've got nothing better to do."
"Sure you don't," I muttered under my breath. "Come on, isn't there I any /I girl who'd go make out with you in a movie theater?"
"Of course there are, but I'm not in the mood right now. Besides, you can only have so many make-out sessions with girls before they get boring."
"You are absolutely a sick and twisted person," I told him. "You know that, don't you?"
"Yeah, I've heard it before." He checked his watch. "Oh, crap, I've gotta go. See you around, McBrian!" He took a left, while I went right.
I Thank God he left/I I thought to myself, turning my iPod up louder. By now I could see McDonald's. Quickly I turned my iPod off, stuffed it in my pocket, and ran the rest of the way.
"Bailey! Wait up!"
Another chance encounter. It seemed I was a magnet today, though at least this time, I'd attracted somebody worth talking to-my best friend, Shea Pollard.
"Hi Shea," I said. "Were you going to McDonald's? I was."
"I was actually going to your house, but McDonald's works," she replied, swinging open the door. "What's up?"
I rolled my eyes. "You know. It's that time of year again."
Shea grinned, not unsympathetically. "Ah, right. I guess they're planning at your house today."
"Yep." We got in line at the counter. "Drives me crazy."
"Aw, it's not that bad," countered Shea. "I mean, the cook-outs are fun."
I gave her a look.
"If you like that kind of thing, I guess," she added hurriedly, fishing some crumpled money out of her pocket. "Which, of course, you don't. But, you know. It's not that bad. It could be worse."
"Not much," I said.
Shea rolled her eyes. "You are so negative, Bai." Her grin was back lightning-fast. She always did that. It kind of scared me sometimes. "But we balance each other out."
"Yeah." I stepped up to the register to order a burger, fries, and a milkshake. Shea simply opted for fries. We took our food to a table by the window, then started eating.
Shea had only swallowed three fries when she pulled a face. "Crap," she muttered. "Don't look now, but…"
Of course, I looked. Laura, followed by three guys and two girls, was walking up to the door. I groaned loudly. "That's just fantastic. Why is our town so freakin small? It's like there's no escape!"
"I said not to look," Shea said matter-of-factly.
"Thanks," I said sarcastically.
The door opened and Laura and her posse walked in. They didn't glance over to where Shea and I were sitting.
I took another bite of my burger. "I mean, you'd think I'd be safe I here /I , at McDonald's."
"Right," agreed Shea. "They wouldn't want all those calories."
I grinned. "Exactly." I shoved the last of my burger into my mouth. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Shea picked up her fries and we left through the other door. Laura never even saw us. "See," I said, as we walked back towards my house, "if Laura was always like that, I think we'd be good friends."
"You guys didn't say a word to each other."
"I know…that's what I meant."
