Free Imaginary Enemy by Julie Gonzalez

toward the boys. Sharp was now balancing a tennis ball on his nose, while Jazz and Zander were slamming balls to the cement to see whose could bounce the highest. “Chase never acts dorky like that.”
    I was referring to Chase McClusky, the coolest guy in my class. I measured all other boys against Chase. None ever came close. He was handsome, slick, and very popular. I wasn’t even sure he knew my name.
    “Chase never acts dorky like that,” squawked Zander in a high-pitched voice. The three boys laughed. Sharp met my eyes, flipped a tennis ball into the air, caught it, and very deliberately fired it at me. “Princess Jane strikes again,” he said.
    “Let’s get out of here,” I told my friends as I deflected the incoming missile.

    Cassidy stood in the doorway wearing an embroidered denim skirt, a tunic top, and a lace shawl. Red and yellow ribbons were braided into her hair. “Luke’s not here,” I told her.
    “Where is he?”
    “Who knows,” I responded, although I knew he was at work at the marina, where he was Dad’s right-hand man after school and on weekends. “Was he expecting you?”
    “Actually, no, but there’s an opening at an art show downtown I was hoping we could go to. My brother’s best friend has his sculptures on display. He makes fabulous creations from glass and aluminum.”
    “Oh,” I said disinterestedly.
    “You could go with me,” she suggested. “It’ll be fun. They’ll be serving drinks and hors d’oeuvres, and there’s a band.”
    My brain froze. I could think of no excuse. “Sure, I guess.” I grabbed my jacket and borrowed a few bucks from Zander in case I needed money.
    Cassidy knew most of the people at the opening. I felt as out of place there as Sharp and Chord had looked at the Kingston Middle dance. People talked about art and music I had never heard of. When I mentioned my favorite pop star, Cassidy quickly changed the subject.
    By the time she brought me home, I could grudgingly see why Luke was attracted to her. She was captivating and quick witted. Her smile had a magnetic quality; her eyes were a warm liquid brown.
    I jumped out of her car at the curb. “Thanks, Cassidy. I had a good time.”
    “Me too, Jane. We should hang out more often.”
    “Yeah, sure,” I said, not really believing she’d want to spend time with me.
             
    But once again, I was proved wrong. Cassidy started dragging me along when she ran errands for her mother or shopped for a new pair of shoes. She treated Carmella and me to the latest animated movies, saying, “Luke didn’t want to go—says he doesn’t like cartoons.”
    Cassidy was easy to talk to, and I came to share my daily victories and defeats with her—things that happened at school that I didn’t discuss with Emma or my other friends if they were in any way peripherally involved. Cassidy, as a neutral party, listened and gave feedback, sympathizing at times, attempting to make me consider another viewpoint at others.
    Luke was pleased that Cassidy and I had developed a friendship. He was totally fascinated with her, and expected the rest of the world to love her as much as he did. Reluctantly, I, too, grew to like her, though not with the intensity Luke felt. She became a sort of surrogate big sister, something I’d never had.

Barbie and the Little Neighbor Boys
    “L et’s go see what the deMichaels are doing,” Zander said to me one lazy, rainy Saturday midway through seventh grade.
    “You can go. I don’t want to.”
    “Why not?”
    “Those boys are boring.”
    “No, they’re not. They’re fun.”
    “They don’t even go to real school. They’re out of touch. Like you.”
    “No, I’m not. And how could Elliot and Peggy have out-of-touch kids? You’re a snob.”
    “I’m too grown up to be playing with the little neighbor boys,” I said in a bored voice.
    “Oh yeah, you’re
so
grown up,” Zander said sarcastically. Seconds later, I heard the door slam.
             
    I