Free Between the Notes by Sharon Huss Roat

that talent show, remember? I danced Clara’s solo from The Nutcracker .”
    “Yes.” I gave a weak smile. “I remember.” She hadn’t actually witnessed my humiliation, thankfully. She’d been off somewhere“getting into character” or stretching her foot behind her head.
    “Didn’t some kid have to drag you off the stage because you froze up?”
    I nodded, though “drag” was a bit of an exaggeration. There was a boy who gently took my arm and led me off. At least, that’s what my mother told me. All I noticed were the bright lights and the front few rows of faces staring at me.
    Willow pulled me into an awkward hug, my books pressed between us. Then someone down the hall behind me caught her attention. “Ooh, gotta go.” She waved and sashayed off.
    “Well, that was fun,” I said.
    Reesa grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
    I shrugged.
    “I’m really, really sorry. You know I just want the rest of the world to hear your amazing voice. And for you to have spending money so we can have fun.” She pressed her palms together, fingertips to her lips as if in prayer. “Forgive me? Please?”
    I rolled my eyes. “You’re forgiven. Just promise you won’t throw me under the Willow bus again, okay?”
    “I promise,” she said.
    We started down the hall, walking shoulder to shoulder and swerving to miss people without breaking contact. It was something we’d started in middle school as our own secret good-luck charm. If we made it to class without separating, we’d get whatever we were wishing for that day. As we approached the stairway, Willow twirled away from her locker and pushedstraight between us with a laugh. We stopped and glared at her back.
    “I hate her,” Reesa growled. “Remind me why we’re friends with her?”
    “Must’ve done something awful in a past life.”
    “We’re such losers,” said Reesa. “It’s sad, really.”
    “Really sad.”
    “Lame.”
    “Pathetic.”
    We went on like that all the way down the hall, belittling ourselves, turning it all into a joke. But as I sat down in homeroom, I wondered why we let her rule over us the way we did. It was just as much our fault as hers, I suppose. We were all complicit in the state of inertia that governed our friendship. It was just easier to keep going along the way it was than to change direction.
    When we got to AP English, James Wickerton had not yet arrived and Reesa took the opportunity to scoot her desk closer to his. She did it casually, like she was just trying to get her things situated and comfy.
    “Seriously?” I shook my head.
    “What?” She smoothed all her hair to one side of her neck and adjusted the collar of her blouse so it displayed her décolletage.
    I slouched a few inches lower in my chair and let my hair fall around my face like blinders. Reesa was an accomplished flirt,but I didn’t like to watch. It made me feel like a third wheel.
    The room got a little quieter when James walked in. Reesa waggled her fingers at him, and his face brightened with recognition as he walked toward the desk she’d saved for him.
    “Good morning, James,” she practically sang.
    “Hey.” He gave a quick smile and sat down.
    “I’m Reesa.”
    James nodded, his eyes darting from her to me.
    “Oh, and this is Ivy.” Reesa leaned back so there was a clear line of sight between him and me.
    “Yes,” he said, “We’ve . . .”
    “Nice to meet you,” I said quickly, before he could reveal that we’d already met. He frowned, confused, but I ignored him and opened my notebook, paging through it like I was in search of some very important notes. I could still see them out the corner of my eye, though.
    Reesa leaned over to rest her hand on James’s arm. “If you need, like, help finding a classroom or the library or something, don’t hesitate,” she said. “You can ask me anything.”
    “Oh, uh. Thanks,” he said.
    We suffered through the remaining recitations of The Canterbury Tales , the words sounding like mush