Addicted (ongoing)

Five

Weaving through the crowded cafeteria, I make my way to the same table that Ethan and I have shared every day since freshman year. Mike is there, too, and so is Chase. Judging by the zealous arm-swinging and animated facial expressions, Chase is giving highlights of the dodgeball game. Ethan and Mike turn to me with something like newfound respect as I settle into a chair.

"I can't believe I missed that," Ethan says, poking me in the ribs.

"Showing off for the new guy?" Mike adds, eyes flicking to Chase.

"Chalk it up to luck," I say.

Ethan laughs. "More like a fierce competitive streak." I stick my tongue out at him.

"Luck or not," Chase says, "it was an awesome move."

Just then, Ruthie Gordon-Pelletier, practically in tears, slumps into the seat next to me.

"I am so glad to see you," she says. She casts a glance at the boys, whose attention is now on her, and pushes our bags together to form a barrier.

"I am completely mortified," she says in a whisper.

"What's wrong, Ruthie?" Mike taunts, peeking over the barrier. "Start your period in the middle of class?"

"Shut up, Mike." I swat at him and push our bags closer together before turning to Ruthie. "What happened?"

"This happened," she says. She shoves a folded piece of paper into my hands.

I unfold the paper in question and give it a quick once-over. "I see we're getting our tests back today."

"I'm sure you got an A, as usual." Her face crumples. "My mom is going to freak when she sees this."

"You got a B, Ruthie. This is actually very good. The test wasn't easy."

"Have you met my mother?" Ruthie says, her voice pitching up as she levels her gaze at me.

Madame Jeanne Pelletier, French-born and reigning autocrat of the Gordon-Pelletier household. I had met her terrifying mother plenty of times.

"You're right," I say. "She's going to freak."

Ruthie closes her eyes and moans. "She's threatening to send me to my grandparents' home for the summer. She says my grammar is horrendous and my accent unbearable."

I pat her on the back, although I don't feel too sorry for her. "I can think of worse punishments than being sent to Paris for an entire summer."

Ruthie pales. "I can't go! My grandparents are even worse than my mother. They're terrible people, Ali. Terrible!"

"I can tutor you," I say. After all, I'm reasonably sure Ruthie's been working up to that all along.

Ruthie sits up straighter. "Really? I would pay you, of course."

I wave away the offer. "You're not paying me, Ruthie. We're friends. It's no big deal. I'll have to look at my work schedule, but I'm sure I can help you out a few days a week."

Ruthie throws her arms around my neck and squeezes so hard it feels like my eyes are going to pop out of my head. "You're a lifesaver! I seriously don't know what I would do without you."

"Seriously, don't worry about it. I'll text you later to set something up."

"Thank you!" Ruthie stands and grabs her bag, looking a lot better already.

"Aw, man. Don't go, Ruthie. I was hoping you girls would start making out," Mike says.

"You're such a pain in the you-know-what," says Ruthie, narrowing her eyes at him.