The years seemed to fly by. After a while, Jennifer stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dad never did come back around, which was just fine with her. The walls of her bedroom she'd begged her mum to paint green were now barely visible behind bookshelves and posters of footballers. The two things she loved most in the world, reading and sport, filled her life. Every day after school, even when the weather was bad, she'd go through the gate to the Buchanans' backyard and do her homework in the treehouse, chatting with Nick while they worked and racing to finish so they could go down and play.
Nick had never had so much fun in all his life. He was ten years old now, and even though his best friend was only nine—and a girl—he was overjoyed. Tara and Jill were in school now, too, but they were more interested in gossiping and playing with dolls than the books Jennifer recommended they read or joining in their football games. Sometimes Jennifer insisted they help the twins with their homework, which Nick had no interest in, but it always ended up being sort of nice. He and Jennifer made jokes and laughed together, and she was just so much fun with everything.
One afternoon, they were up in the treehouse like always, and Nick was nearly ready to chuck his maths book out the window. "Hey Jen, have you learned long division yet?" he asked in exasperation.
She looked up and stared at him with a curious expression.
"What?"
"You called me Jen."
"Sorry. Jennifer. I know you don't like when I call you Jenny anymore."
She scrunched up her face. "Jenny just makes me sound like a baby."
"I'll just call you Jennifer, then."
"No…Jen is sort of nice." She smiled, enjoying this new nickname. Especially if it came from Nick. "And yeah, I know long division. What do you need help on?"
Nick brightened and scooted over beside her to show the equation he was working on and explaining his difficulty. That was the thing with Jennifer—Jen—she was a whole year behind him in school but she was always happy to try and help him when he needed it. She was so smart, probably the smartest in her class. Nick did really well in school, too, but he always seemed to have to work a bit harder than Jen did. And when he needed her help, she never made him feel dumb. Whenever either one of them had any sort of problem, they tackled it together. After all, they were best mates.
Jen was able to show Nick the trick she used for long division, and they were both done with their homework very soon after that. "Fancy a game of footie before dinner?" she offered, grabbing the ball that lived in the treehouse.
"Yeah, let's. Jimmy Carmichael was making fun of me today that I practice with a girl, but he doesn't know how good you are," Nick told her with a grin.
She scoffed, "Jimmy Carmichael is a big bully. And you might be bigger than me and play for the school team, but I am better than you. Tell Jimmy Carmichael that."
"You are not better than me! Come on, first one to five goals is winner, and I bet you can't beat me," he challenged.
Jen's little face was set with determination. "You're on."
The game today was much more competitive than usual. Jennifer didn't much like being told that she wasn't the best at anything she did, and Nick usually wasn't so smug. The idea that Nick wanted to prove to some dumb boys at school that he was a better football player than her seemed so stupid. And Jennifer refused to back down. They ran and kicked the ball with more gusto than was customary for these backyard games.
By the time Jen scored her fifth goal to Nick's third, they were both covered in dirt and grass stains and sweat. "Hah! I win!" she announced triumphantly.
"Come here!" he shouted angrily, threatening, "I'm gonna beat you up for that!"
Jennifer felt her heart thunder in her chest and not because of the exertion from the game. She walked right up to Nick, curled her tiny hand into a tight fist and punched him right in the nose.
Nick screamed and grabbed his face, blood pouring from behind his fingers.
"No one beats me up!" she shouted, trying to keep from crying with rage.
She was about to hit him again when Mr. Buchanan ran into the yard. "What's going on!?" he asked, terrified as to why his son was bleeding profusely and the neighbor girl was red-faced and shouting with tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Nick said he was going to beat me up so I punched him," Jen answered, breathing heavily and trying to calm down.
"Well, good for you, Jennifer," Mr. Buchanan praised. "Violence is never a good idea, but it's very important for people, especially girls, to stand up for themselves. And as for you, Nicky, you never ever threaten violence against anyone. It's not funny and it doesn't make you strong or cool. Only if you're defending yourself should you ever raise a hand against another person. Now, let me see your nose."
Reluctantly, Nick did as he was told. Blood was dripping onto the lawn and all over his shirt.
"Alright, it doesn't look broken. Go inside and have Mum help you clean up before dinner. Jenny, are you okay?"
"My hand hurts," she answered in a quiet voice, feeling properly ashamed of herself for losing control like that and ending up with her knuckles all swollen.
"You'll need to put some ice on it. Go back home for now, okay?"
She nodded and grabbed her book bag and ran home.
Later that night, after a quiet and anxious dinner with her mother and icing her hand for an hour, Jennifer was getting ready for bed and from her bedroom window saw the lantern illuminating the treehouse next door. She felt like she was going to be sick. How could Nick ever forgive her for what she'd done? She'd never had a friend like him before, and now he probably hated her. And he lived right next door! What was she going to do without him?
As quietly and quickly as she could, Jen snuck back downstairs and out the door. She stood at the bottom of the rope ladder, concerned about whether she should try to go up. In the end, she thought she'd better ask. "Nick?" she hissed, trying not to be too loud.
The silhouette of his head appeared at the entrance. "Jen? What are you doing here?"
"Can I come up?" she asked.
"Sure," he replied.
Jen was shaking as she climbed up the ladder, trying to prepare herself for what she wanted to say and what his reaction might be.
When she sat down, though, Nick was the first to speak. "How come you asked if you could come up?"
"I didn't think you'd want me here."
"You know you can always come up here. That's what we agreed the day you moved in next door," he reminded her.
"Yeah, but you weren't mad at me then."
"I'm not mad at you now."
"Are you sure? Your face is all purple because I punched you."
Nick shrugged. "I deserved it. Besides, the bleeding's stopped. I'm okay."
"Still, I'm sorry I hit you. That's not what friends do."
"I'm sorry I said I'd beat you up. That wasn't what friends do either. But…um…" Nick trailed off and stared at his hands in his lap, clearly nervous about something.
"What?"
"Are you going to tell everyone at school?"
She frowned. "Why would I do that?"
"Because you beat me at football and you punched me because I'm a sore loser. You're a better player and you're tough. Aren't you going to tell people?"
A small smile appeared on Jennifer's face. "It's no one else's business. You know and I know that you were being awful and I punched you for it. You'll just have to make it up to me later, I guess."
"Make it up to you how?" he asked warily.
"You could kiss me," she suggested.
Without hesitation, Nick started to laugh. "Yeah, okay, come here." He leaned closer to Jen, threatening to kiss her.
She squealed and backed away laughing. "No, don't!" Jen scrambled down the ladder to go home to bed. "See you tomorrow, Nick."
"Jen, wait," he called, looking down to where she stood next to the ladder.
"Yeah?"
"We still mates?"
"Best mates. Always," she assured him before running back home.
