As I clanged the huge knocker, I thought I saw the hideous flowered curtains move, just a little. Like someone was peeking out. But no one answered the door. I knocked again. And again.

Rhonda doesn’t know who she’s dealing with, I thought as I kept knocking. Rafe could’ve told her—I don’t give up that easily.

“GO AWAY!” Rhonda shouted from the other side of the door.

“No!” I knocked again, then rang the doorbell three times in a row just to be annoying.

Rhonda opened the door a crack but left on the security chain, like I was a burglar or a church lady she wanted to avoid. “WE AREN’T EVEN FRIENDS,” she announced.

“Don’t be dumb. Of course we are.”

“WE ARE?” Rhonda looked so hopeful. Her whole face lit up.

“Of course you’re my friend.” I swallowed. “Rhonda… I’m sorry I said that to Missy. The truth is—you’re my best friend at HVMS.” I knew it was true the minute I said it. Rhonda was sort of weird, and sort of annoying, and—frankly—a style disaster. But she was also unique. And brave. And kind.

I thought about Missy and felt embarrassed. How could I ever have cared what she thought?

Rhonda blinked, and I could see the sparkle of tears on her upper lashes. She pulled off the security chain and opened the door, but she didn’t invite me inside. “WHY DID YOU TELL MISSY WE WEREN’T FRIENDS?”

“Because… I’m an idiot,” I confessed. “Rhonda, I’m really, really sorry.”

Rhonda didn’t say anything. She just pulled me into a hug.

I’d never been that close to Rhonda before, and I was surprised by her pretty fabric-softener smell and her strong, soft arms. “You’re squishing me,” I told her.

Then we pulled apart, and we both laughed like we were a little embarrassed. Rhonda swiped at her eyes, and I saw that the tears were gone. “BEST FRIENDS!” she said brightly.

“Okay, but—” I bit my lip. “Rhonda, maybe you could… try not to follow me around so much?”

“SURE, GEORGIA! NO FOLLOWING!” She thought that over for a moment. “BUT WE CAN STILL HANG OUT ALL THE TIME, RIGHT?”

I sighed. I guess it was too much to hope that Rhonda would suddenly turn normal. But that was okay.

Who’s normal?

Missy?

Right. I’d take Rhonda any day.

Smacked Down

That evening, I sat perched on my favorite stool at Swifty’s as Mom darted back and forth like a dragonfly behind me. The diner was jammed with the usual supper crowd, but the noise didn’t bother me. I was reading The Invention of Hugo Cabret and drinking a (gasp!) chocolate milk shake, which Mom let me have after someone sent it back, insisting that he’d meant to order strawberry. I should have been happy.

But how could I be? Missy and her family were in the corner booth again.