“Will you hold my hands?”
Abby grabbed Gretchen’s hands and pulled her onto the floor just as the announcer said it was Free Skate, and suddenly the rink was full of teenagers whizzing past them at warp speed. One boy lifted a girl by the waist in the middle of the floor and they spun around and the DJ turned on the mirror ball and stars were gliding over everything, and the whole world was spinning. Gretchen was flinching as speed demons tore past, so Abby turned around and backskated in front of her, pulling her by both soft, sweaty hands, merging them into the flow. They started skating faster, taking the first turn, then faster, and Gretchen lifted one leg off the floor and pushed, and then the other, and then they were actually skating, and that’s when the drums started and Abby’s heart kicked off and the piano and the guitar started banging and “We Got the Beat” came roaring over the PA. The lights hitting the mirror ball pulsed and they were spinning with the crowd, orbiting around the couple in the center of the floor, and they had the beat.
Freedom people marching on their feet Stallone time just walking in the street They won’t go where they don't know But they’re walking in line
We got the beat!
We got the beat!
Abby had the lyrics 100 percent wrong, but it didn’t matter. She knew, more than she had ever known anything in her entire life, that she and Gretchen were the ones the Go-Go’s were singing about. They had the beat! To anyone else watching, they were two kids going around the rink in a slow circle, taking the corners wide while all the other skaters zoomed past, but that’s not what was happening. For Abby, the world was a Day-Glo Electric Wonderland full of hot pink lights, and neon green lights, and turquoise lights, and magenta lights, and they were flashing on and off with every beat of the music and everyone was dancing and they were flying so fast their skates were barely touching the ground, sliding around corners, picking up speed, and their hearts beat with the drums, and Gretchen had come to Abby’s birthday party because Abby had invited her first and Abby had a real E.T. poster and now they could eat the entire cake all by themselves.
And somehow Gretchen knew exactly what Abby was thinking. She was smiling back at Abby, and Abby didn’t want anyone else at her birthday party now, because her heart was beating in time with the music and they were spinning and Gretchen shouted out loud: “This! Is! Awesome!”
Then Abby skated into Tommy Cox, got tangled up in his legs, and landed on her face, driving her top tooth through her lower lip and spraying a big bib of blood all down her E.T. shirt. Her parents had to drive her to the emergency room, where Abby received three stitches. At some point, Gretchen’s parents retrieved their daughter from the roller rink, and Abby didn’t see her again until homeroom on Monday.
That morning, her face was tighter than a balloon ready to burst. Abby walked into homeroom early, trying not to move her swollen lips, and the first thing she heard was Margaret Middleton.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t come,” Margaret snipped, and Abby saw her looming over Gretchen’s desk. “Everyone was there. They all stayed late. Are you scared of horses?”
Gretchen sat meekly in her chair, head lowered, hair trailing on her desk. Lanie Ott stood by Margaret’s side, helping her berate Gretchen.
“I rode a horse and it took a high jump twice,” Lanie Ott said.
Then the two of them saw Abby standing in the door.
“Ew,” Margaret said. “What happened to your face? It looks like barf.”
Abby was paralyzed by the righteous anger welling up inside her. She had been to the emergency room! And now they were being mean about it? Not knowing what else to do, Abby tried telling the truth.
“Tommy Cox skated into me and I had to get stitches.”
At the mention of Tommy Cox’s name, Lanie Ott opened and closed her mouth uselessly, but Margaret was made of sterner stuff.
“He did not,” she said. And Abby realized that, oh my God, Margaret could just say Abby was a liar and no one would ever believe her. Margaret continued, “It’s not nice to lie and it’s rude to ignore other people’s invitations. You’re rude. You’re both rude.”
That’s when Gretchen snapped her head up.
“Abby’s invitation was first,” she said, eyes blazing. “So you’re the rude one. And she’s not a liar. I saw it.”
“Then you’re both liars,” Margaret said.
Someone was reaching over Abby’s shoulder and knocking on the open door.
“Hey, any of you little dudes know where—aw, hey, sweetness.”
Tommy Cox was standing three inches behind Abby, his curly blond hair tumbling around his face. The top button of his shirt was undone to show a gleaming puka shell necklace, and he was smiling with his impossibly white teeth. Heavy gravity was coming off his body in waves and washing over Abby.
Her heart stopped beating. Everyone’s hearts stopped beating.
“Dang,” he said, furrowing his brow and examining Abby’s lower lip. “Did I do that?”
No one had ever looked so closely at Abby’s face before, let alone the coolest senior at Albemarle Academy. She managed to nod.
“Gnarly,” he said. “Does it hurt?”
“A little?” Abby managed to say.
He looked unhappy, so she changed her mind.
“No biggie,” she squeaked.
Tommy Cox smiled and Abby almost fell down. She had said something that made Tommy Cox smile. It was like having a superpower.
“Coolness,” he said. Then he held out a can of Coke, condensation beading on the surface. “It’s cold. For your face, right?”
Abby hesitated then took the Coke. You weren’t allowed to go to the vending machines until seventh grade, and Tommy Cox had gone to the vending machines for Abby and bought her a Coke.
“Coolness,” she said.
“Excuse me, Mr. Cox,” Mrs. Link said, pushing through the door. “You need to find your way back to the upper school building before you get a demerit.”
Mrs. Link stomped to her desk and threw down her bag. Everyone was still staring at Tommy Cox.
“Sure thing, Mrs. L,” he said. Then he held up a hand. “Gimme some skin, tough chick.”
In slow motion Abby gave him five. His hand was cool and strong and warm and hard but soft. Then he turned to go, took a step, looked back over his shoulder, and winked.
“Stay chill, little Betty,” he said.
Everyone heard it.
Abby turned to Gretchen and smiled and her stitches ripped and her mouth filled with salt. But it was worth it when she turned and saw Margaret Middleton standing there like a dummy with no comeback and nothing to say. They didn’t know it then, but that’s when everything started, right there in Mrs. Link’s homeroom: Abby grinning at Gretchen with big blood-stained teeth, and Gretchen smiling back shyly.
That’s What Friends Are For
Abby took that Coke can home and never opened it. Her lip healed and the stitches came out a week later, leaving an ugly fruit jam scab that Hunter Prioleaux said was VD but that Gretchen never even mentioned.
As her scab was healing, Abby decided there was no way her new friend hadn’t seen E.T. Everyone had seen E.T. And so one day she confronted Gretchen in the cafeteria.
“I haven’t seen E.T.,” Gretchen repeated.
“That’s impossible,” Abby said. “60 Minutes says even the Russians have seen E.T.”
Gretchen stirred her lima beans and then made up her mind about something.
“You promise not to tell anyone?” she asked.
“Okay,” Abby said.
Gretchen leaned in close, the tips of her long blond hair trailing across her Salisbury steak.
“My parents are in the Witness Protection Program,” she whispered. “If I go to the movies, I might get kidnapped.”
Abby was thrilled. Gretchen would be her dangerous friend! Life was finally getting exciting. There was only one problem:
“Then how could you come to my birthday party?” she asked.