Olivia releases my hand and skips ahead of me, singing, “I can’t wait till fiesta! Fiesta! Fiesta!” When I was her age, I must have felt the same way. I must have.

Sorry

Auntie Bernadette oversleeps on Wednesday and we are fifteen minutes late for school. Walking into class late will be bad enough, but I run into Mrs. Johnson on the way.

I stare down at the sidewalk and hope she doesn’t see me, but Mrs. Johnson stops when I pass her.

“Isabel.” Her voice is soft and when I turn, I notice her face is, too. “Is there anything bothering you?”

I try to swallow the lump in my throat. “No. I’m … I’m sorry about Mary Kelly. I didn’t … mean—”

Mrs. Johnson puts her hand on my arm. “Of course not. Don’t get me wrong, I hope it doesn’t happen again, but I feel like I got to know you a little the other night. Mary Kelly must have said something terribly hurtful to cause you to do that.”

Mrs. Johnson waits. She must want me to tell her what Mary Kelly said, but I look away. I feel like I got to know Mrs. Johnson the other night, too, and I wouldn’t hurt her for a million dollars.

“Isabel, would you do me a favor?”

Anything, I think. Anything to get rid of this miserable guilt hanging around my neck like a heavy chain.

“Would you ask Mary Kelly to the fiesta this weekend?”

Anything but that.

Surprises

Mrs. Johnson says Mary Kelly will say yes. “Just you watch. I know she values your friendship. And anyway, if you let what happened fester, it will become worse than it really is.”

Mrs. Johnson may have been right about Mary Kelly breaking up with Mike, but she’s wrong about this.

“Isabel, I know that it’s none of my business, but did you talk to anyone after your mother died?”

“What do you mean?”

“A counselor or a therapist?”

I hug my books close to my chest. “Mrs. Johnson, I’m late for school. I need to hurry.” I walk away quickly but add, “I promise to ask Mary Kelly.”

All morning, Mary Kelly ignores me, never looking my way. Even Tonya and Delia act differently toward me, giving short answers to my questions. I want to forget my promise to Mrs. Johnson and make new friends. But after a quick look around, I realize these are the only people I want to be my friends.

At lunch I race past a few girls in order to get in line right behind Mary Kelly. I blurt the question out so fast that it sounds like, “Would you like golden mustard this weekend?”

“What?” she asks with a funny scowl.

I repeat the words slower. “Would you like to go to the Malesso fiesta this weekend?” Then I hold my breath.

“Maybe,” Mary Kelly says. “If I’m not busy.”

I’m so shocked, it takes me a moment to notice the cafeteria lady holding out my carton of chocolate milk.