(Ex) Best Friends

My best friend and I have known each other since kindergarten. We instantly clicked, forming an unbreakable bond. We had amazing sleepovers, went to each other's parties, joined clubs and sports together, hung out in all of our shared classes during school.

  We're in fourth grade now. Before, we had the same teachers every year. But now, we are in different classes. We are different people. Well, everything is different.

  Bree, my best friend, has made new friends. Cool, popular friends. They are brave, pretty, and kind girls. Except, to me, they aren't.

  "Sorry, we don't want to hang out with you today," Nicol says with a dismissive flick of her hand.

  Ava, Simone, and McKenna nod in agreement. I look to Bree, hoping to see a sign that she cares. That she will at least hang out with me. Because we are friends, and that's what friends do. Right?

  "Sorry, Sadie, maybe tomorrow," Bree says cheerfully, just like yesterday, and the day before, and the week before.

The girls run off to go play on the playground, the heels of their shiny shoes clicking on the pavement. I look down, inspecting my pink uniform polo top and hideous tan pleated skirt. I focus on the rhythmic tapping my gleaming black shoes on the cement as I aimlessly walk away.

  Bree doesn't hate me, does she? No, that cannot be possible. We are BFF's, best friends forever, no matter what.

  That weekend, my mom drops me off at Bree's house. Her kind mother opens the transparent front door, and I shuffle in. I have my sleeping back slung over my shoulder and my sparkling bag containing my stuff in my hand. I walk towards her room and push open the white door.

  Bree greets me with a kind hug, then I set my belongings on the gray multitoned floor. She sits down on a stack of fluffy pillows and turns on her phone. The bright blue screen illuminates her face, and music emits from the device. Her mother bought it for her as a beginning of school present, hoping to seem like a "cool mom."

  I'm not allowed to have a phone, so after I drop my bags I awkwardly sit on the floor. I grab a soft throw pillow and fiddle with one of the tassels.

"So, have you decided what you want to do for your birthday yet?" I ask, trying to spur up a conversation.

 "Oh, yeah!" Bree clicks her phone off and faces me. "I want to have a luxurious limo trip and explore places. We will drive around the city and look cool. Don't worry, you will totally be invited."

I breathe an inaudible sigh of relief. "Who else do you think is going?"

"Probably my sister, Ava, Simone, McKenna, Taylor, and Nicol. Why?"

  My spirit dims. All the people I hate, and all the people that hate me. Except for her sister, of course.

  "Just wondering. Hey, do you want to watch a movie?" I ask, changing the subject. Sometimes I feel unsure of how to have fun with her anymore since she doesn't like to play games we used to.

  "Yes, I have the perfect one."

  Twenty minutes later, a raucous, terrifying movie is playing. The screeches of terror and cries of ghosts and other evil things sound from the large speaker. I am cuddled up with a long blanket, using it to hide my eyes during jumpscares.

  "Turn it off!" I plead.

  "No, you big baby," Bree grins.

"I don't want to watch it!"

  "Then leave if you are going to be a coward!" She retorts, her voice dripping with venom.

  "Fine!" I shout, darting up and fleeing the room as fast as possible, snatching Bree's phone as I go.

  "No wait-" She starts guiltily, rising from the couch.

  "Stop," I say, stomping away, furious.

  After ten long, dragged out minutes of waiting for my mom to come pick me up, I finally see her familiar black Chevy rolling up to the driveway.

  I sprint out the door, my eyes brimming with tears. My mom drives me home in silence. She tries to ask me about it, but I ignore her, afraid that if I say anything, my voice will crack and tears will pour down my face.

  Once home, I drag my pink back up the main staircase. I stumble into my violet bedroom and flop onto my white flower-printed bedspread. I shove my face into a pillow, thinking. Does Bree hate me?

No, she can't. We have known each other for so long.

  But how has she been treating you? Look at the facts.

  No. It was just one misunderstanding. 

  In a series of many "misunderstandings," a small voice inside me says. I push it out of my mind and fall asleep. 

  When I go to school Monday, I sit at a table near Bree. I try to talk with her and her friends, but I keep getting pushed out of the conversation. They laugh, and I try to laugh along, but it feels hollow. 

  I try to talk again, join the conversation, but Bree's friends purposefully ignore me. The next day when I sit at the table, her friends give each other a disgusted glance and move a table over. Bree reluctantly follows them. I try to stop my tears, burrow my sadness and sense of betrayal deep inside me, and move to a table with some other friends. 

  The rest of the week is a blur. I make small talk with casual friends and focus mainly on schoolwork. I try to avoid Bree as much as I can while she insists on how sorry she is. 

As soon as the weekend arrives, I welcome it giddily. Bree's limo is supposed to pick me up at my house, and I eagerly await their arrival. Maybe tonight I can fix and clear things up with Bree.

  "Sadie, come upstairs, please," my mom calls. I bounce up the stairs and skip into her scarlet bedroom.

  "I have something to tell you," my mom starts, looking sad. "Bree's mom called..." she hesitates. "and said that the limo isn't picking you up. There isn't enough room for you with the other girls. I'm so sorry."

  My heart stops, and my spirit falls through the floor. I stand there in disbelief, then let the salty tears fall down my face. I find myself being more emotional this year than before. But I know why.

  It's because my best friend, or the person I thought was my best friend, hates me.