From the Desk of Zoe Washington - Janae Marks Page 0,2

did Marcus mean when he wrote “these letters”? This was the first one I’d ever gotten from him. It didn’t make any sense.

None of this did.

I stared at my striped rug as a million thoughts swirled around my head like cake batter in a mixer.

Should I write him back? What will happen if I do?

I had no idea Marcus thought about me. But what if he was pretending to be nice to me because he wanted something from me? What, though?

Maybe I should throw the letter away.

There was a knock on my bedroom door, which made me jump two feet and almost drop the letter. I clutched the loose-leaf paper in my now-sweating hands.

“Hey, Zoe?” It was Mom.

I tensed up. “One second!” I stuffed the letter back into the envelope and tucked it underneath my purple comforter. I remembered I was still wearing my jacket, so I took it off and threw it over the back of my desk chair.

Then I cracked my bedroom door open.

“Trevor’s here,” Mom said.

Trevor? What’s he doing here?

As if she could hear my thoughts, Mom said, “He wants to give you his birthday present, since he wasn’t at your party.”

There was a reason for that: he wasn’t invited.

“Can you tell him I’m busy?” I whispered.

Mom’s glare made it clear she was not about to do that.

“Please? It’s my birthday, and . . . he’s not my friend anymore.” Not after he made our friendship out to be a total joke.

Mom’s expression softened a little. “When are you going to tell me what happened?”

I shook my head. No way was I telling her anything. She’d probably force me to forgive Trevor, and that was not going to happen.

“You know, as a brand-new twelve-year-old,” Mom said, “you’re old enough to understand how rude it’ll be if you don’t come out and thank him for the gift in person.” She forced my door open wider. “C’mon.”

All I wanted to do was read Marcus’s letter again and figure out what it all meant, and what I should do next.

But first I had to deal with my ex–best friend.

Chapter Three

I trudged behind Mom to the living room, where Dad was talking with Trevor’s mom, Patricia.

Trevor usually celebrated my birthday with me. We were in the same grade and had been neighbors practically our whole lives. Our families shared a two-family home—a baby-blue house with two side-by-side white front doors, a wooden porch, a paved driveway, and a two-car garage.

During the summer, my friends Jasmine and Maya always left town. Maya would go to sleepaway camp in the Catskills, and then on vacation with her parents and younger sister. This year they were going to San Francisco. As for Jasmine, she normally spent the whole summer at her grandparents’ house in Maryland with her twin brother and cousins. But this summer, she was actually moving to Maryland. Her parents decided they wanted to live closer to her grandparents all year round. When I said goodbye to Jasmine at the end of my birthday party, I cried, having no idea when I’d get to see her next.

I’d stay home for the summer, as usual. Mom didn’t believe in spending thousands of dollars for summer activities when I could have fun at home for free. Like always, Grandma would watch me while my parents were at work.

I never really minded being home for the summer, because I’d always had Trevor. We’d come up with our own adventures, like riding our bikes around our neighborhood or making s’mores using the microwave. Last summer we watched all the Marvel movies on Trevor’s dad’s big-screen TV. Sometimes, Trevor would help me bake cookies or brownies. We never got bored when we were with each other.

But this was not going to be like all our other summers. A month earlier, Trevor betrayed me and I hadn’t talked to him since. I had no idea how I’d entertain myself without him, since bike riding and movie marathoning didn’t sound as fun alone. I couldn’t even complain to Mom because she’d tell me to use my imagination, or say that being bored was good for me.

When I walked into the living room, Trevor was standing next to the couch. I narrowed my eyes at his baggy Medford Middle School Basketball T-shirt. He probably wore it over here on purpose, to rub it in my face that he only cared about the team. He was playing that old-school Mario game on his phone again. I recognized the beeps and cheery