Surprise! Um, Happy Thanksgiving? Belatedly? Unless you don't celebrate Thanksgiving…uh. Happy…FRIDAY!

"Ella, Let's go." I exhaled impatiently. It was even later that same evening, and I still wasn't home, where as far as I was concerned, I should be. In my nice, warm…sleeping bag.

It wasn't that the day was all bad. No, it was acceptable as far as Fridays go. But I was ready to, you know, get the hell outta here. Ella glared up at me from where she was crouched, tying her shoes. She needed no words; she was going as fast as she could and she needed me to shut up. I didn't comply, but I compromised on maybe not nagging so much. Mayyybe.

"What did you and the coach talk about?" I asked, as Ella straightened up and hurried to meet my quick stride through the halls. We pushed open the huge wooden double-doors of our school, and were hit by a huge blast of wind. I swear it blew my hair straight back. This was something we hadn't been used to in our part of Arizona: temperamental weather conditions. But I was liking it. Wish I could say the same for Ella.

"Great," she muttered, lifting a strand of her hair and letting it fall. I had to laugh; the wind had passed and she still looked like she was walking through a wind tunnel. That'll happen if you use hair products in your perfect, straightened hair. "Oh, yeah?" She snapped as I practically wiped tears from my eyes. "Looked it a mirror lately, loser?" I snorted.

"Right, like I care about my hair. My head's still warm. It's doing its job."

"You're impossible."

"I'm here, though. I think the word you're searching for is improbable."

She gave me a shove.

"A rare gem? God's gift to humankind?" I tried again, grinning as she attempted to knock me over. I stumbled a little, a surprise to both her and I. I shoved her back, harder. She fell in the street, looking shocked.

"Oh, geez." I couldn't believe I had done that! It hadn't been on purpose. There was not reason to be that mad at Ella. I held out my hand to help her up. I found myself doing that a lot lately. Ella, however, must have taken my comment on my own stupidity as one on her weakness. Or, at least, the weakness that she thought that I thought of her. Which wasn't true. I didn't think Ella was weak. Just making bad choices. Like, for instance, cheering. Ignoring my hand, she got up on her own. "Ella, I didn't mean—" She turned away abruptly, and I slowly let my hand drop. I felt terrible. And even worse, I didn't know how to apologize.

….

The walk to the bus stop was a silent one, as was the ride. No conversation was held on the walk home, either. Every time I snuck a glance at Ella, she appeared to be deep in thought. My stomach felt as though it were crawling with guilt. We got to our house, the last on our block. Why couldn't it have been the first? Anything to end the walk as soon as possible. I unlocked the front door, and Ella was inside and up the stairs almost before I could shut the door and lock it. Mom appeared in the entrance to the kitchen, and I could smell spaghetti. "Where's Ella?"

"She's upstairs." I carried my backpack with me past her and into the dining room. My mom followed me.

"Oh," I think she knew there was more, but she didn't press me for it. "Do you two have homework left?" This was one of the things I loved about my mom. She could take any situation and know what to say—or, in this case, what not to say. Even if the subject she deferred to was homework.

"Not that much." And I was happy, because this time the little white lie I told every night was actually true.

"Good," Mom smiled. "And…what about Ella?" Her face took on a new look of all seriousness. I knew what she was asking about. So much for her not pressing me for information. But still. She did it in a way that felt as though I could tell her anything and she would accept it. I sighed.

"Ella's mad at me," I began. My mom nodded, waiting. "I did something that upset her. It was an accident," I said hastily. "But I can see why she'd be mad."

"So you understand what's making her upset."

"Yeah."

"And you realize that you made a mistake." I knew where she was going with this.

"Yeah."

"So…" Here it comes… "Why don't you just apologize?"

"I tried to!" I protested. "But she wouldn't listen!"

"No, Max," Mom spoke gently, but firmly. "You just don't know how to apologize."

"Bu—" She held up a hand to stop me.

"You know it's true."

I was silent.

"You want to apologize, I see that. You want to make things right. Am I correct?"

Nod.

"And you don't want her to be mad at you, because that makes you feel uncomfortable."

Reluctant nod.

"How are you going to make it better?"

I sighed.

"Max…"

"By talking to Ella," I muttered under my breath, low enough so that Mom couldn't hear.

"Hm?"

"By talking to her." Louder this time.

"Right on the nose." She kissed my forehead, standing up from her seat beside me. "Do you want any help with your battle plan?"

"No. Thanks," I replied, following her lead and standing up from the folding table we were using as a dining surface. "And really. Thanks." She gave me a hug.

"Any time, sweetheart." She pulled back, her warm brown eyes scanning my face. "You're sure you don't want any help?"

"Yeah," I said, smiling a little. "I'll figure it out."

"I know you will, Max."