Still, we became fast friends, after all those“oh my God!” shared similarities.
Looking back, I realized we became even fasterfriends after she had met the one thing we couldn’t share: Patrick.
I’ll never forget the moment she first saw himon that life-changing day. Like a cigarette burn on a perfectly good jacket.Too noticeable to be ignored.
He slid onto the cafeteria bench, taking hisplace beside me as he always did during lunch period. He kissed my cheek, andtook a handful of chips from the bag I brought, as he always did. It wasn’tuntil he peered around me to see the new comer sitting there and he asked whomy friend was in his cool, charismatic way.
“This is—”
“I’m Christine,” she said, cutting me off witha smile.
“She’s new,” I explained needlessly.
“Oh, cool. Nice to meetya.”
And as though it were any other day, he ate hislunch, picking at my chips, casually chatting with a couple guys from one ofhis classes.
But it wasn’t like any other day, because then,Christine wedged her chin into the crook of my neck, lips barely touching myear.
“Is he your boyfriend?” she whispered beforechewing on her bottom lip.
“Yep.”
“Wow, you’resolucky.”
I thought nothing of it; why would I? I took itas a compliment, and smiled at her, because dammit, I really was lucky. I hadone of the hottest guys in school as my next-door neighbor, my best friend, myboyfriend—my everything. So, I touched his shoulder with my head, reveling inhow blessed we were. He shot me that little lop-sided, one-dimpled smile,kissed my forehead, and I neglected to notice the way she looked at him.
Now, most girls would have accepted that theguy was taken, and moved on, but that wasn’t Christine. She was stubborn, justlike me, and well, we all know this story, don’t we? Her gears started grindingthat very first day, and her plan had been set. She continued to hang out withme, to hang out with Patrick. She gained my trust to infiltrate our bond, tobecome our accepted third wheel—to get to him.
It started innocently enough, too innocentlyfor me to really notice. She laughed at his jokes, but everyone did. She smiledwhen he was nice, but everyone did that too. But then, there were the toucheson the arm, the flips of her hair. There were light, airy giggles in thehallway between classes. I didn’t want to accept them at first, because she wasmy friend, but I noticed. I knew what they were, what they meant, and a girlwho is willing to flirt openly with her friend’s boyfriend isn’t a friend at all;she’s the enemy with a clear tramp stamp.
It finally went down on an unusually warmDecember afternoon. The three of us had headed over to McKenna’s Delicatessen,like we did every day after school. Patrick and I walkedhand-in-hand,my backpack slung over his shoulder to accompany his own, and Christine walkedon the other side of him.
“Shit, my bag issoheavy,” she whined.
“Gottastartworkin’ out,” Patrick teased.
“Can you carry it for me? You always carryKinsey’s.”
My face froze with my eyes wide open at herdaring comment, but I remained silent, tightening my hand around his.
“Yeah, so? Kinsey’s my girlfriend.”
“So? She’s a big girl. She can carry her ownbag.”
“Well, you’re a big girl too, so I guess yougot it covered.”
I peered around Patrick,takinga peekat the girl I thought I had known, and met her eye. Herpainted-on black brows rested tightly over her eyes, glaring at me with a typeof jealous rage I had never known before. My insides coiled together, knottingtoo many times to control with a few deep breaths.
She had overstayed her welcome in our circle.
When we got to the deli, I pulled Patrick intothe back, and when Christinemade an attempttofollow, I shook my head.
“Sorry, employees only. We’ll be right backout.”
“Uh, he’s not an employee.”
My dad eyed us, noticing the tension.“Patrick’s allowed, Christine, sorry. You want a soda while you wait?”
