with Mom the next morning so she drives me to school, because I don’t want to have to sit with Faith on the bus. I know I’m going to have to see Faith sooner or later, but I would rather it be later, because I hate arguments, especially with her, even though I know I’ve got every right to be mad. Unfortunately, she catches up with me in gym while I’m puffing my way around the track practicing for the god-awful physical fitness test.
“Abs, wait up,” Faith calls, jogging just behind me.
If my legs and lungs would allow, I’d quite happily leave Faith in my dust, but if I’m not the world’s worst runner, then I’m pretty darned close. In kindergarten I came last in the potato sack
and
the egg-and-spoon races, and things have pretty much gone downhill for me on the athletic front ever since.
When she finally jogs up alongside me, I stare straight ahead like I don’t see her.
“Abby, I know you’re mad at me and … I’m sorry,” Faith pants. “The only reason I spoke to my dad was … because I was worried about you. It really freaked me out when you … fainted. You looked like you were … dead, lying there.”
I stop jogging and stare at her. “But I … was …
fine
.” I gasp, trying to catch my breath. “You could
see
… I was perfectly okay … afterward. And you
promised … you promised
not to tell …
anyone
!”
I start running again, as fast as I can, reinvigorated by a burst of anger. But I hear Faith’s footsteps pounding behind me.
“Abs, I know … I promised … and I’m … sorry,” she pants as she comes up alongside me again. “I just wanted … to ask my dad … if you’d really … be okay … ’cause he’s a doctor … I didn’t know he’d call your mom … honest.”
I slow down to my regular snail-paced jogging speed, my breath coming in heaves from the effort of sprinting. Faith’s face is flushed and sweat beads her forehead. Her eyes plead with me to forgive her, and it looks like she means what she says. But then Luke’s words come back me:
Guess u can’t trust her anymore … People change
. If it wasn’t for Faith nagging me to go to those stupid auditions, I wouldn’t have been there in the first place. And why had Faith been all over me to go? Because she has a new friend, Grace, and drama is
Grace’s
thing.
“Whatever,” I pant.
Faith gives me the “let’s hug and make up” look, but I’m not having any of it. Things have changed between us, and maybe I’ll forgive, but I’m not going to forget.
We finish the lap and walk to the locker room together.
“They’re posting the audition results later,” Faith says. “I’m really nervous.”
“Well, I’m pretty confident I didn’t get a part — unless they were casting a dead body.”
Faith giggles, assuming that everything is back to normal between us.
“Well, I hope you’ll be on stage crew or makeup or something. You’ve
got
to be involved in the play somehow, even if you aren’t acting.”
I don’t say anything, because I’m not up for one of Faith’s full-frontal persuasion barrages. Maybe if I’m lucky, Faith won’t get apart and then she’ll give up on this whole drama business. But then I feel guilty for wishing that, because it’s obvious Faith really wants to be in the play, and even though I’m still mad at her, I can’t find it in me to want her to be crushed.
“Gracie and I are meeting right after school to go look at the casting results together. You wanna come?”
I’d rather jam forks in my eyes
.
“Uh, sorry, I can’t. I have a project I have to work on tonight.”
“Already? Wow. That sucks!”
“Yeah. I really lucked out, didn’t I?”
“Well, keep your fingers and toes crossed for me,” Faith says as we go our separate ways. “I’ll call you tonight to let you know what happened.”
“Okay,” I say. “Well, good luck.”
“Don’t say good luck! It’s bad luck to say good luck in the theater! You’re supposed to say
Marguerite Henry, Bonnie Shields