Free The Friendship Riddle by Megan Frazer Blakemore Page A

saw and said, “Thanks, Ruth. I’ll make sure Charlotte gets that tomorrow.”
    â€œOkay,” I said. “That’s probably for the best.”
    I walked out of the room as solo as I had come in.

Eight
Behoove
    Friday in the locker room, Lena wasn’t wearing a bra. She flipped off her T-shirt for gym class—it was an old one with a faded Wild Thing doing the Wild Rumpus on it—and pulled on a shirt and then a sweater. Melinda noticed. She wrinkled her nose, that’s how I knew. But she didn’t say anything.
    â€œYou didn’t have to do that,” I said to her in the hall.
    â€œMelinda is a witch,” Lena said. “She’s a witch and the word that rhymes with it.”
    â€œ   ‘Twitch’?” I asked.
    Lena raised her eyebrows as if she had misjudged me, and then saw that I was joking. “Actually, I was thinking ‘stitch,’   ” she said.
    â€œOr ‘switch.’   ”
    â€œ   ‘Fibbledegitch.’   ” She grinned.
    â€œStill, you didn’t have to do it for me.”
    â€œMaybe I didn’t do it for you.”
    â€œOh,” I said. And blushed.
    â€œOr maybe I did,” she said back. She was smiling. She didn’t make any sense at all. “You know, women used to burn their bras for women’s rights.”
    â€œI know,” I said.
    Lena put her hand up in the air. “Solidarity, sister.”
    Somehow I didn’t think our not wearing bras was going to bring down the tyranny of Melinda. Lena wrapped a silk scarf around her neck and tied it in a big, beautiful bow all while we walked to our lockers.
    I jammed my bag into the narrow metal space and took out my lunch in its insulated bag from L.L.Bean. I had to beg Mom not to get it monogrammed with my name. Lena had her lunch in a hand-sewn fabric bag. I went to my usual table and she sat down next to me. I guessed it was my turn in the rotation of where she sat.
    Coco glanced over at us from his table with the boys.
    â€œWho do you think the cutest boy in sixth grade is?” Lena asked me.
    Well, that was an abrupt disappointment.
    â€œWhat?” she asked.
    â€œAll this boy-girl stuff.”
    â€œI think it’s Coco. Don’t you?”
    I glanced at Coco. He had warm brown eyes, and I thought his hair would be soft to touch.
    â€œI don’t know,” I said.
    â€œAnd I think Charlotte is the cutest girl. She must be like a million times cute, because she’s next to Melinda all the time and that makes anyone look ugly.”
    â€œShe’s not that cute,” I said.
    â€œYou guys used to be friends, right?” Lena asked.
    â€œSure,” I said. “I guess. My moms and her dads are friends.”
    She nods. “I shouldn’t have asked that. About the cute boys. I don’t have a lot of girlfriends. I have three older sisters. Twins and one in between them and me. They talk about boys all the time. I guess I thought that’s what we’re supposed to talk about.”
    This raised a million questions in my head: Who are your friends? Where are they? Are we friends? “What do you want to talk about?” I asked her.
    â€œWhat are you eating?” she asked.
    â€œPeanut butter and Fluff,” I said, wishing this had been another chutney and cheddar day. Lena’s was in a little tin bowl and I couldn’t quite tell what it was. It looked lumpy and not at all appetizing. “You?”
    â€œChicken garam masala. I got the recipe from Dev’s mom, but I don’t think I made it right. I didn’t have all the spices she put down, so I had to improvise, like on those cooking shows.”
    â€œYou made it yourself?”
    â€œMy sister Vera helped. I like to cook, but she actuallywants to be a chef. Well, actually, she wants to be a restaurateur. I don’t think restaurateurs actually cook. She says when she gets older she’s