Harlee

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"Harlee! Let's get a move on; can we?" Mom's voice called to me from downstairs.

I would have acknowledged her, but at the moment, I was concentrating on something else.

Staring down at my phone screen in frustration, I continuously reloaded my text message inbox, hoping for a reply to appear.

I'm not sure why I thought staring at the message would make a response get to me any faster or at all for that matter, but I hoped it would.

I needed James to respond.

It had been two weeks since we had talked or texted, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Every message I had sent the past two weeks had been in reply to the text James sent me, telling me he was ending our friendship.

We can no longer be friends, was all that he had written.

I sent him a series of texts asking why or if it was a prank, but to no avail. He never said anything back, and I'm not sure why that particular day I expected him to. He'd ignored all of my calls, all of my messages, and had even begun to avoid me at school.

Our friendship was really over.

My eyes glanced out the window at James' bedroom window that was directly across from mine.

The summer James and I had first met also ended up being the summer that we became next-door neighbors. James and his family moved out of their apartment in the Metropolitan area of our town Winnington, and into the house next door to mine. James had been homeschooled until fourth-grade, and in his first year of public school, we had been in separate homeroom classes.

Hence, why I had no idea he existed until Fairington. He was off on his own and low-key until he met me. After we became neighbors, James and I played outside in my yard or his all of the time. We'd run through sprinklers in the summer and jump into leaf piles in autumn.

And every night when it was time to go inside, we'd both go to our bedroom windows to keep talking to one another.

But instead of verbally talking, we'd write each other messages on small whiteboards with markers to communicate. We'd write one another a message then hold it to face the window, so the other could see. He and I could have just simply texted, but we liked our tradition better. Some nights we would text too, but most nights, it was writing to each other. There were also nights where we'd wanted to hear each other's voices, so we'd open up the windows. Then, one of us would give the other a call, so we wouldn't have to yell at each other, and we'd sit there talking on the phone but still eye to eye. Video chat would have been just as effective, but neither of us was allowed to use it back when we were ten.

I smiled at the memories. Then I set my phone down in defeat and stared at the ceiling above me. I tried ignoring the longing emotion of missing my best friend and tried for the thousandth time to figure out what could have gone wrong.

My mind slowly flashed back to the days that led up to James sending me the text. Everything had mostly seemed to be normal.

James and Harlee besties for life. There were a few instances where James' behavior was out of the ordinary, but I didn't question it.

I knew James and I were just growing up, and I'd been told that came with many changes.

But I hadn't known a change like this was part of the bargain.

If I had known, I'd have braced myself.

Braced myself to lose my very best friend in the entire world for a reason I still didn't even know why.

"Harlee Yasmine Ramirez!" I heard my mom yell again, her voice seeming to be closer.

I quickly shot up from my bed and gathered my school items.

The drama with James would have to wait until later. I hurried out of my room and raced down the steps. At the bottom of them stood my mother holding her purse in her hand.

I gave her a rueful smile.

"Hey, good morning," I greeted sweetly.

"Good morning, Harlee," she said back, raising an eyebrow in agitation.

I could understand her frustration with me.

I was tardy nearly every morning.

Usually, it was because when I woke up, I'd sit on my bed talking to James for so long I'd have hardly any time to get ready.

But that was back when James and I still talked every morning.

Now, I just sat on my bed, feeling sad at the fact we weren't.

She wasn't able to leave for work until I left for school. Well, I guess she could have, but her motherly instincts wouldn't let her. Most mornings, my father left for work way before I was awake, so he could get an early start on his long drive to Town Centre where his office was. So I appreciated her decision to wait for my departure; it would feel lonely to have to leave the house with no one to send me off each morning.

"Farrah Harrington is at the door," she said. "And you're going to make yourself and her late for school."

I nodded and turned to leave but then stopped in my tracks. I spun back around to face her, asking, "Who's at the door?"

"Farrah," she said back simply.

I glanced at the front door momentarily before saying, "I told you if she comes to the door this early, tell her I'm not here. Why can't I ever rely on you for this?"

Mom's eyes flashed in amusement at me. I could tell she was trying to hold back a laugh.

"And why don't you like walking to school with Farrah?" She tilted her head at me.

"Because I already go to school with her. I can only handle her in small doses."

"Ah." She nodded understandingly. "And what would you like me to say when she rings the doorbell next time?"

"I don't know. Make up an excuse; tell her I'm dead or something."

This time she didn't hold back; she laughed at my remark and asked, "Dead, huh? That's a good one, but how do you think she'll react when she sees you show up alive and well the same day at school?"

"I could just say I'm a ghost." I glanced toward the door again in reluctance.

"Come on, Harlee. Is she really that bad?" she asked, sounding more amused than curious.

"Yes and no. Some days, she's actually a lot of fun. Others, she's a lot of...annoying, I guess."

The amusement disappeared from her eyes, and she shook her head at me. "Okay, enough; this girl clearly is trying to be your friend, so why not give her a chance. Okay?"

"Okay," I said, defeated.

"And if she really does turn out to be that bad, then we'll use the dead thing as plan B," she said, her smile returning.

I smiled back and hugged her.

"Now go; you're making me late as always," she commanded.

"Sorry, see you after school, Mom," I said in farewell.

I opened the front door and saw Farrah standing down at the sidewalk, waiting for me. She had her blonde curls up in a high ponytail and was wearing a black sundress that perfectly contrasted with her ivory complexion. Her face was focused on her phone, and for a second, I almost considered making a run for it.

But when she heard me close the door and looked up at me, I knew my chance at an escape plan was gone.

"Hey," she said in a bored tone once I reached her.

"Hey," I said back.

We started towards the school, and I tried to figure out what kind of mood she was in. If it was a good one, we could just have a regular conversation. A bad one?

Well, I'd have to put up with her melodramatics and try to calm her down. Her next words immediately gave me my answer.

"I'm having SUCH an annoying morning," she complained.

I closed my eyes in irritation before responding, "And why is that?"

"Amy is driving me mad again," she vented. "I adore her, but she is such a handful. She's always bratty when I make new friends."

I nodded my head.

Now this, I could agree with. Ever since Farrah and I had started hanging out, her best friend, Amy Tristan, had made it her mission in life to get rid of me. She had never spoken a kind word to me and seemed to have a knack for pointing out my flaws.

On the days when Farrah got on my nerves too, it was fine. I could just stay away from them both. But the days when Farrah and I actually had fun together, it aggravated me.

I'd never done anything to Amy.

My being friends with Farrah was not a good enough reason for her to despise me.

But I'd reasoned some people will dislike you simply because of who you are (or who they are) and there is nothing you can do about it.

Farrah and Amy were both a lot to deal with anyway.

A best friend match made in heaven, I supposed.

Farrah continued her rant, explaining how she had a new friend named Hyland, who was in eighth grade. She went on and on about how Amy ignored or was rude to Hyland every time the three of them hung out.

"It's like she's so clingy to me. She acts like I'm her goddess or something; like she is the only person that can be friends with me," Farrah complained then hesitated a moment. "Well, maybe goddess is a bit of an exaggeration, but still," she started again. "This morning, I didn't even reply to her text messages, 'cause she just needs to get a life and stop obsessing over me so much."

I took in a breath, trying to block her out without being obvious about it. This was one reason why I couldn't take too much of Farrah.

She was nice but so gossipy.

If she talked this badly about her "best friend" to me, then what was she saying behind my back to other people?

And I just couldn't stand the feeling of being caught up in girl drama. The way Farrah and Amy acted sometimes was the reason I had always found it easier to just be friends with guys.

Girls always seem to be fighting with one another about something.

That and some of their utter shallowness was just too much for me.

Even more reason to miss my best friend, I thought to myself irritably.

"Harlee? Harlee." Farrah's voice brought me out of my thoughts.

I glanced over at her and realized we were standing in front of our school.

Well, that was a short walk, I thought, Maybe, I ought to try blocking out when she's like this more often.

"Oh, we're here," was all I said.

"Yeah, we are, but you didn't answer my question," she said with impatience in her tone.

"What question?" I asked.

Farrah stomped her foot in annoyance at me.

"The question I just asked; were you even listening to me?"

"Honestly, no," I admitted, not wanting to lie. "I'm just really confused about what's happening with James is all."

Farrah nodded and then placed her hands on my shoulders.

"Try not to think about it too much, Harlee." She stopped for a second. It seemed she was trying to find some sage words to comfort me with. She finally came up with something and said, "Remember, at the end of the day, he's just a boy."

I didn't know what to say to that nor how that was supposed to be helpful, so I just nodded my head.

"Good," she said. "I really need you to forget about him for a second. Because I have a lot going on, and you need to be there for me. If you're really my friend, you'll listen to me. Anyway, the question I asked was, what should I do about Amy?"

I looked at her silently for a second. I couldn't help but notice how little concern she seemed to have for my emotions and how easily she brushed them off.

But I didn't voice my agitation; I just said, "I don't know, Farrah; I've never really had close girlfriends before."

Farrah didn't like that response. "Well, that's a lot of help," she said sarcastically.

"I'm not a friendship counselor; deal with it." I shrugged, hoping I'd make her angry enough to just storm away from me, so I could be left alone.

Sadly, she didn't.

She gave me a look of helplessness which I suppose was her way of getting me to feel sorry for her.

It worked; I felt bad.

So I gave her the best advice I could think of.

"Just try to stop giving in to her. Don't let her wear you down. Stand up to her or something, okay?" I said, feeling a little bad about how I was treating her that morning. Farrah was a bother, but I didn't like seeing her sad. She had her bad moments, but she had gone out of her way to become my friend when James abandoned me. I could at least try to be a little kinder to her.

"Okay," she nodded slowly. Her sky-blue eyes looked up at me with their usual confidence.

"Yeah, I agree, Harlee Darling," she grinned, using one of her nicknames for me. "I should stand up to her. You're right."

"I always am," I said with a giggle, and she laughed.

We walked towards the school building in step as Farrah finally switched topics. She began talking about how excited she was for summer vacation, but once again, I didn't really hear her.

My attention was now focused on the person that had arrived at school shortly after we had.

It was James.

He was walking up to the middle school alongside Evan.

I wondered if they'd been behind us the entire time, but then I saw Evan's mom drive away in her SUV.

I felt a little betrayed by the development.

James and I had always walked to school together.

But again, that was before...before everything changed.