Free Best Friends (Until Someone Better Comes Along) by Erin Downing

conversation that no one was supposed to hear. “Can we work on my routine?”
    â€œWhat routine?” I asked, my eyes wide. I suddenly worried that maybe You, Only Better had some sort of talent show at the end of the month. No one would get me to participate in something like that for all the money in the world. And the idea of my dad up onstage, singing Black Eyed Peas or Adele or something, made me want to vomit. My dad was totally the kind of guy who would sing in front of everyone too. He was the show-offy “Cool Guy,” the brand of dad who always wants to make everyone think he’s really fun and easygoing. He isn’t. Every time he acted like that lately, it was one hundred percent for show. “What are you talking about?” I repeated. “A gymnastics routine or something?”
    Ava looked at Bailey, and Bailey shrugged. “Just tell her. She’ll find out eventually.”
    â€œTell me what?” I asked.
    â€œI’m trying out for Southwest’s dance team this fall,” Ava said. “Promise you won’t make fun of me. . . .”
    â€œWhy would I make fun of you?”
    â€œBecause you’re Isabella Caravelli.” Bailey stared me down. “That’s what you do.”
    I shrugged. That was true. And in fact, I really did want to laugh about the idea of someone like Ava actually trying out for our school’s dance team. Ava would never make the team, not in a million years. She would be eaten alive at auditions. But instead of saying that—which would have been the honest thing to say—I said, “Can I see you dance? I’ll help you if I can.”
    Ava squealed, and ran into Bailey’s room to turn on the music.
    â€œAre you trying out for dance this year?” Bailey asked me. She was shuffling around in the kitchen, looking for snacks while Ava got ready.
    I shook my head. “No, I have soccer.” This was a lie that easily rolled off my tongue by now. I’ve somehow convinced everyone that I’m totally committed to soccer, or I definitely would be on the dance team. But the truth is, I have never and will never try out, because I know I’d never make the team. I’m a terrible dancer—like, dead-fish-flopping-around-in-the-bottom-of-a-boat bad. I’ve never even figured out how to make my body do simple tumbling stuff, like cartwheels, so there’s no way I’m going to humiliate myself by trying to learn a complicated dance routine and then mess up in front of everyone.
    The tough thing is, I’m practically the only one of my friends who isn’t trying out. I don’t like to think about how horrible it will be if they all make the team, then start hanging out without me. But only a few people make the dance team each year, so I know it isn’t very likely. Everyone knows Heidi has no rhythm and Sylvie always cracks under pressure, so I’m not too worried about them making it. I’m kind of counting on both of them to mess up, actually.
    I know you’re supposed to support your friends, but it’s hard to do when I know they’ll both be better off if they just don’t make it. Then nothing has to change with us, and my best friends will still need me just as much as they always have.
    â€œSoccer?” Bailey said, looking at me curiously. “Can’t you do both?”
    Yes, I could. But I choose not to. “Nope,” I said, with no further explanation. I hoped Bailey would just butt out.
    All of a sudden, a pulsing dance mix pumped through the wooden cabin. I tapped my feet, waiting on the couch as Ava prepared to enter.
    â€œAction!” Bailey cried, clapping from the kitchen. She pulled her video camera out and pointed it toward the door of her bedroom.
    Ava burst out from behind the bedroom curtain, her usually mousy expression gone. In its place was a huge smile. She leapt from the kitchen into the living room, her arms