ALL MY REAL FRIENDS ARE FAKE

When old loyalties get in the way of a new love, who can you trust?

Sneak Peak 

Chapter 1

Beret’s pinky finger curled around mine, then she wiped the tears from my cheeks. I hugged her fiercely in front of the rented U-Haul van, wondering if I could do anything to make her stay. One last plea. But no, it wouldn’t matter. Everything was packed, and her parents were waiting to go. 

“Don’t worry, Blair. We’ll talk every night,” Beret said, grabbing my shoulders. “It’ll be our long-distance romance, best friends' style.” She pulled me in, squeezed me one more time. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to trust that I wouldn’t lose my best friend.

When she released me from our last hug, I etched the image of her wild blonde hair and beautiful brown freckles in my mind. As she climbed into the backseat of the U-Haul, I couldn’t help but notice that her eyes sparkled with excitement while mine were red and puffy from crying. Would she miss me at all in her new town? Her new life? She’d fit in perfectly in Nashville, a city filled with musicians and artists. But I needed her here, more than she needed me.

“Soul mates!” she called out the window and laughed as her dad pulled away from the curb and her mom turned up the music, eyes on the road ahead. 

Panic rose in my chest. I sank deeper into my oversized hoodie, feeling chilled despite the warm September morning, bracing myself against the sudden, stark fear of starting high school without her. I pulled out my phone before the silence she left behind settled into my bones.

BLAIR: i cant walk through those doors tomorrow w/o u

BERET: don’t worry youll be fine!!!

            But I knew it wouldn’t be fine. Growing up, being friends with Beret was like hanging out with the sun. Everyone turned toward it. Everyone loved its shine. For ten years, I didn’t have to worry about who I would have lunch with, who I would study with after school, who would look for me in the hallways, and who would lead the way through the murky, confusing maze of adolescence. It was always Beret. She was everything. And now she was gone.

BERET: you can visit me soon

BERET: minnesota girls take over nashville

BERET: bring your cowgirl boots

Trying to force my tears to stop falling, I turned to see my mom watching from the kitchen window. I trudged inside, and she wrapped me in a gentle hug, careful not to wrinkle her perfectly pressed blazer and cream silk blouse. After letting go, she looked into my eyes and said, “Don’t worry, honey. You’ll make new friends.”

Her words made me feel like a child, and I glared at her.

“Oh, Blair.” She tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and I pulled away from the touch. “Look, I know high school can be daunting, but it’s time you branch out on your own. This might be a good thing.”

A good thing? I wanted to scream in her face. Tell her that she was insane, that she was cruel, and didn’t understand anything!

But the scream stayed stuck in my throat, frozen and afraid, just like the rest of me. I swallowed it down along with the ugly truth—without Beret, I was nobody.

I had no one.

My mom gave me one last squeeze on my arm as if that could make me feel better. Then she left for work, and I floated away. My body moved without my full awareness, up to her closet, to her prized possessions, and searched for something to fill the gaping wound.

The small space smelled of expensive leather bags and designer clothes. My mom’s Chanel perfume. My hands shook as I sifted through the seemingly bottomless bowls of rings and pins. There were layers of golden necklaces, and rows of earrings and gems. I released them all until only one small pendant on a thin chain entwined my fingers like a stubborn vine. When I slipped it into the back pocket of my jeans, relief flooded my limbs.

The hazy fog I had been wading through began to lift, and I made my way out to the hallway. Pausing to lean against the wall, trying to make the world, suddenly tilted, shift upright again. With the jewelry in my pocket weighing me down, my mom’s words repeated in my mind—it’s time you branch out on your own. But being on my own meant being alone. And I had no clue how to do that.

I slid down the wall, slumping on the carpet like a rag doll, and cried.