Free My Extra Best Friend by Julie Bowe

I’ll play kickball.”
    “But you love art,” Tom says, picking up a brown crayon and sketching a tree on the table paper.
    “And you
hate
kickball,” Elizabeth adds, drawing a purple rabbit under Tom’s tree.
    “No I don’t,” I tell her, even though I do.
    Elizabeth glances up. “We used to hide behind that cow hedge on the schoolyard when our teacher made us play.”
    “Bessie,” Tom says, drawing leaves on his tree. “I’ve hidden behind her too.”
    “It never worked, though,” Elizabeth continues. “Our teacher always found us and hauled us back to the game.”
    I lift my chin. “Things change,” I say in my icy voice. “I don’t hide behind cow hedges anymore. Neither do my
friends
.”
    Tom looks up. He does a fake shiver. “Brrrr,” he says. “I should have worn a sweatshirt. It’s chilly in here.”
    Elizabeth draws a fluffy white tail on her purple rabbit, which is dumb because the paper is white and it barely shows up. “Well then, maybeyou
should
play kickball. With your
friends
.”
    My eyes turn into ice picks. So do Elizabeth’s. We poke them at each other.
    “Yep,” Tom mumbles. “Definitely sweatshirt weather.”
    The door opens. Alex sidesteps in, carrying a stack of cardboard. “Sorry I’m late!” she says. “Pete was helping me cut up boxes so we’ll have something to set our pinecone critters on.”
    “Oh, goodie!” Emillie squeals, patty-caking her hands like a baby. “Pinecone critters!”
    Brooke and Nat laugh. They start playing patty-cake too.
    “I’ll help,” Stacey says, getting up quickly and taking the cardboard from Alex. Stacey’s not a fan of patty-cake.
    “I’ll help too,” I say, joining Stacey. Because, right now, I’m not a fan of sitting down.
    “Thanks!” Alex gives us a smile.
    We hand around the cardboard slowly, and then set the extra by some shelves that are loaded with more art supplies. Paper. Beads. Paint in every kind of color. Even glow-in-the-dark.
    “Do you want to switch seats?” Stacey asks mein a low voice, glancing at Brooke, Nat, and Emillie. They’re playing table hockey with a pinecone.
    “I like pinecone hockey even less than kickball,” I say to Stacey. “And I like sitting by Nat and Emillie even less than sitting by Elizabeth Evans.”
    Stacey sighs. “Don’t blame you,” she says, and trudges back to Brooke.
    I plop down across from Elizabeth.
    Elizabeth looks up. Blinks, all innocent. “How was kickball?”
    Tom snickers.
    I pick up a red crayon. “Your tree could use some apples,” I say to Tom, ignoring Elizabeth.
    “Be my guest,” Tom replies.
    I start drawing bright red apples on Tom’s tree, secretly wishing one of them would fall off and thunk the purple rabbit right on its fluffy white tail.
    “It could use some birds too,” Elizabeth butts in. She picks up an orange crayon and draws a bird on the branch I was planning to draw an apple on.
    I frown. Shoot my ice pick eyes at her again. “
No
vacancy,” I say, and draw a big red
X
over her dumb orange bird.
    Elizabeth shoots a look back.
    Tom chatters his teeth.
    Alex steps to the front of the room and starts showing everyone examples of pinecone critters she’s made. A mouse with felt ears and a yarn tail. A bird with feathery wings. A hedgehog with toothpick prickles and googly eyes. “Let your imaginations go wild,” she says. “Literally! Make any kind of critters you want!”
    Tom picks up a pinecone and studies it from every angle. “I’m thinking…fox,” he says. “How about you two?”
    I don’t answer.
    Neither does Elizabeth.
    She’s too busy drawing birds. I’m too busy drawing apples over them.
    Then, just like that, she jumps up and clomps over to the supply shelf in her clunky cowboy boots. She takes a piece of paper from the
Help yourself!
box, clomps back, sits down, picks up the orange crayon, and starts drawing.
    She keeps her arm crooked around the paper like she doesn’t want me to cheat off her work. Dumb.