I want to tell her, but I’m ashamed. I’m also afraid if I tell her what Mom said, she’ll agree and confess she’s realized she deserves a better best friend than me.
Instead, I turn the tables on her.
“Why’d you come home so early?” I murmur, trying to keep any edge from my tone. “Thought you’d be makin’ out with Dallas for most of the night.”
When she doesn’t answer me, my entire body tenses, muscles going stiffer than a board. Dammit, I hate the idea of him touching her. It sucked just watching him hold her hand on the way to the dance. The sight of that alone had me nearly puking in the back seat.
“I did for a little bit,” she finally answers.
Bile rises in my throat, and I work hard to calm the urge to be sick. I don’t say anything; just wait her out.
Because I know Magnolia, and there’s more.
“I just didn’t wanna do too much, you know? I wanted to end the night on a good note. So, we kissed for a while, and that was it.”
I bite the inside of my cheek as I mull over her words. Finally, I ask, “Are you goin’ to see him again?”
It wouldn’t be the end of the world. I mean, Dallas is a million times more decent than Ashton, after all.
No one will ever be good enough for my Magnolia, though. I’ve come to realize that. She’s too special. Too incredible and kind.
“I think so.” She shifts to peer at me, and I look down. Our faces are so close and I wish I could see more, but without the small light on and only the moonlight gleaming through the tiny window, she’s more shadows than anything.
“He was a gentleman tonight?” There’s a steely undertone in my voice, but I don’t care if she notices. There’ll be hell to pay if he was anything less than respectful.
The smile is obvious in her voice. “Yes, Hollis.”
“Good.”
She shifts back, her cheek against my chest, and we lie in comfortable silence for a while. I let my eyes fall closed as her nearness comforts me and helps me shrug off the painful scene from earlier.
“You should set your alarm, Shortcake.”
“I did.” Her voice is sleepy, and her words have a faint slur to them. “Just wanna lie with you a little while longer.”
I release a long, slow exhale. When I whisper, I think it’s more for myself than her. “When you start datin’ and get a boyfriend, you know we won’t be able to do this anymore.”
She doesn’t respond, and I assume she’s fallen asleep.
Until a few long moments pass, and I hear, “Love you, Hollis.”
The combined warmth of the sleeping bag, space heater, and Magnolia curled up against me have lulled me into a relaxed, sleepy state. My lips curve up slightly, and I whisper back, “But not like that.”
Magnolia
JUST SHY OF EIGHTEEN
SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL
“But—”
My mother cuts me off with a sharp, dismissive wave of her hand. “Magnolia Mae, we’ve been over this.” Her eyes narrow and her mouth purses. “No.”
It’s unlike me to rock the boat, but this? This is unacceptable.
Which is why I persist.
“But Hollis is my best friend,” I plead. “There’ll be others from my class, so why is it such a big deal?”
She turns her head to stare up at the ceiling as though asking for divine intervention and mutters, “You’re about to make me lose my religion, young lady.” When her eyes land on me, anger radiates from her perfect-from-a-spa-day pores. “He doesn’t belong here with us.”
Us. Meaning people with money. It’s ridiculous that he lives directly behind us, yet an invisible line separates the wealthier homes from ones like his. An invisible line that seems to dictate who’s allowed to be friends, too, according to my mother.
I’d stupidly thought she’d get over this. That she’d finally realize Hollis isn’t just a boy who lives in a house on the other side of that “line,” but that he’s a good person and that’s what should matter. She’s claimed, time and again, that she’s “allowed” me to keep up the “mismatched friendship” because Roy had suggested it could be seen as an act of charity by others.
Since Dallas is in the picture, it seems she’s had her fill of this sort of “charity.”
“You shouldn’t even bother with him anyhow.” She turns away and busies herself with organizing her purse contents. She’s about to leave to go to a Women’s League tea.
“You have Dallas now.” She slides her purse straps over her arm and straightens. “He’s a nice young man. Comes from a good family.”
Translation: His family has money.
Don’t get me wrong, I like Dallas. A lot. We’re good together. He supported me when I ran for Class President and celebrated my victory, and I did the same for him when he was elected Vice President. We’ve manned a bunch of successful fundraisers for our school. And yes, she’s right about him being a nice young man, but sometimes…I’m not sure he’s what I want.
Heck, there are times I’m not the least bit sure what I want.
But on the nights when a text message comes through and Hollis shows up to help me out of my window, and we sneak away to the treehouse to talk about anything and everything, I know I want that.
I’ve come to terms that Hollis doesn’t see me as a potential girlfriend, especially since I’ve kept him in the “friend zone” for so long. I’m not sure I could ever be brave enough to try for more. Not only that, but I never want to risk ruining our friendship on a whim that we could have more.
But when we’re together, just the two of us, I know that’s what I want with a guy. The easiness. The way we can talk about anything that comes up. The lack of judgment. The understanding. The camaraderie.
I want all of it. I just wish Dallas could be the one to give it to me.
“I need to go. Tell Roy I’ll be home later.” Before I can form a response, she’s already out the door, pulling it shut behind her.
My shoulders slump, and a tiny voice in the recesses of my mind lectures, No slouchin’, young lady. Shoulders back, spine straight, chin up. Balance that invisible book atop your head.
Someday, I hope to permanently get rid of that voice. I amble down the hallway to my room and drape myself across the bed with an inward groan. I stare up at the smooth white ceiling and exhale slowly.
Blindly, I reach for my cell phone that’s lying near the edge of the mattress. I scroll through my text messages, pausing over Dallas’.
Dallas: I can’t wait to give you your present this weekend.
Dallas: Looks like we may finish up earlier than I thought. Good thing since word is they’re backed up just before the back nine. Care to go on a date with your boyfriend tonight?
Dallas is participating in the local golf tournament with his dad. It’s a big deal around here since it’s played on the LPGA course at the country club, and they raise money for a designated charity. Although, to be honest, the bulk of the people I know who take part do it to see and be seen rather than for the good cause.
My thumb hovers over the keys, and I hesitate to type a response. Instead, I back out of those texts and look at Hollis’.