Free BFF* by Judy Blume Page A

his family. He went to my elementary school but he wasn’t in my sixth grade class.
    Toad spoke first, then two girls I didn’t know, then a boy who’s in my social studies class, then Rachel. She had brushed her hair away from her face, making her look younger than usual, and prettier. I know her so well I never think about her looks. I forget about the way her lower lip twitches when she’s scared.
    That morning, when I’d called for Rachel, her mother had been giving her a last minute lecture about the debate. “Wear your height as if you’re proud of it … shoulders back, head high.”
    â€œYeah … yeah …” Rachel had said. She’d heard it all before.
    Mrs. Robinson had planted a kiss on Rachel’s cheek. “I know you’ll be the best. You always are.”
    Now, as Rachel walked across the stage, my heart started to beat very fast. I could tell she was trying to take her mother’s advice but somehow she wound up walking as if she were in pain.
    When she got to the lectern she tapped the microphone to make sure it was still working, then cleared her throat twice. Her voice trembled as she began to speak but once she got going her body relaxed and her voice changed into that grown-up one she uses when she wants to get attention. A hush fell over the audience. You could tell everyone was listening to what she had to say. She was definitely
la crème de la crème
of debaters.
    When she finished the audience applauded the same way they had for the others. Then Mr. Diamond, my English teacher, stepped up to the microphone to make some announcements. The first was that we had made $316 at the bake sale that morning. Everyone cheered, especially Alison and me because Sadie’s brownies had brought in close to a fifth of the total! Next, Mr. Diamond told us we’d be able to donate food baskets tothe needy on both Thanksgiving
and
Christmas. Everybody cheered again. And then he said we’d earned enough to have a winter dance on Ground Hog Day, February 2. The cheering grew louder.
    â€œThat’s my birthday,” I whispered to Alison, who was sitting next to me.
    â€œYou’re so lucky!” she said.
    Another teacher handed Mr. Diamond a slip of paper. “Okay …” he said, “here are the results of this afternoon’s competition. The two newest members of the debating team are …” He hesitated for a minute, making my stomach turn over, “Todd Scrudato and Rachel Robinson.”
    Toad and Rachel came forward to shake Mr. Diamond’s hand. Rachel was smiling and she walked more like herself. I felt myself choke up. I reached over and squeezed Alison’s hand. She squeezed mine back.

The Alison Monceau Story
    I have never understood what makes some kids so popular. I’ve been trying to figure it out for years. Almost from the first week of school you could tell Alison was going to be the most popular girl in our homeroom and it’s not because her mother is Gena Farrell. Nobody knows about that but Rachel and me and we are sworn to secrecy. The funny thing is, Alison doesn’t even try to be popular. It’s just that everyone wants to be her friend. I’ve made a list with reasons why.
    1. She is very friendly.
    2. She never has anything bad to say about anyone.
    3. She doesn’t have bad moods.
    4. She laughs a lot.
    5. She is funny.
    6. She has nice hair.
    7. She looks different than the rest of us because she is Vietnamese. Looking different can either work for you or against you. In Alison’s case it works for her.
    Alison knows how to be popular without being snobby, which is more than I can say for Amber Ackbourne. She’s the leader of the snobbiest group of girls in seventh grade. And now she wants to be Alison’s friend. She’s always coming up to her in homeroom. But Alison can see right through her.
    The boys like Alison, too. They just have