Free My Last Best Friend by Julie Bowe Page B

she can't come to my sleepover tomorrow night," Jenna says.
    "Why not?" I ask.
    "She was about to tell me, but then she saw
you
and started bawling," Jenna says. "You have such a way with friends, I-
duh.
First Eliza
butt
moves away and now Stacey
runs
away."
    I'm too worried about Stacey to pay any attention to Jenna's insult. "What should we do?" I ask.
    "Stay out of it," Jenna tells me. "I'll fix everything so she can come to my sleepover. In the meantime,
leave her alone.
"
    Jenna shoves past me and heads into the classroom. Brooke follows her. But I just stand there, trying to decide what to do. All I can think of is to run after Stacey.

    Stacey is sniffling by one of the sinks in the girls' bathroom. I walk over to another sink and start washing my hands while I build up my courage to ask her why she is crying. It doesn't take me long, because I don't have much courage to build up.
    "Um ... why are you crying, Stacey?"
    Stacey's bottom lip starts to quiver and her eyes fill up with tears again. "I'm crying because I have to move away. Again."
    "Move away? What? Why? Where?"
    Stacey wipes the tears from her cheeks and says, "My parents aren't really traveling, Ida. They don't even have important jobs. The truth is, they got divorced. My dad and my brother moved away. My mom has been staying with friends while she looks for a new place to live. She called last night to say that she found one. She's coming to get me this weekend."
    Suddenly, I realize. This is the emergency Stacey wrote about.
    The next thing I know, I'm running down the hallway. I run all the way to the nurse's office.
    "I have to ... have to go home. Don't feel good," I say between sobs.

    Twenty minutes later, my mom is there to pick me up and take me home.
    As soon as we get to our house, I run to my room and shut the door. I fall onto my bed, pull George close, and cry and cry and cry.
    By the time I hear my mom knocking on my door I'm crying so hard I can't tell her to come in. She comes in anyway. She sits next to me. She doesn't say a word. She just strokes my hair and rubs my back while all my tears sink deep into my pillow.
    Finally, she quietly says, "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
    And even though it's hard to do, I tell her. I tell her how much I miss Elizabeth. And how I never even said good-bye to her. I tell her how much I like Stacey. And how she is moving away, just like Elizabeth did.
    "What do you think we should do?" she asks.
    I just take deep quivery breaths and shake my head.
    My mom smiles softly and wipes away my tears. Then she says, "You did a very brave thing, Ida. Telling me how sad you feel. Do you think you're brave enough to tell Stacey how you feel? To tell her good-bye?"
    I don't say anything. I just sit there, wondering if I am. Brave enough.
    I look around my room. It doesn't look like the
room of a particularly brave girl. No bold colors. No shiny trophies. No gold crowns.
    I look at my bulletin board and see a picture I drew of Elizabeth and me.
    Then I look at my nightstand, see the little wishing cup Stacey gave me, and think about the last wish I put inside it.
    I take a deep breath.
    And pour it over my head.

Chapter 17
    It takes me all morning to write the note.
    Telling someone your real name just when they are moving away is hard to do. And it's even harder to imagine being best friends with someone you can't even see. But, in fourth grade, you have to start doing the hard stuff.
Dear Stacey,
    I'm really glad you get to move back with your mom. I'm sure she misses you ten times more than you miss her. But I'm really sad, too. Because I don't think there's a times table big enough to figure out how much I'll miss you.
    I was wondering if maybe we could be friends?
    Not just secret friends but best friends?
    If the answer is YES, please check the YES box below. If the answer is NO please check the NO box.
    ___YES ___NO
    Ida May
    After my mom and I eat lunch, I convince her that I feel good enough to go