Lola McAffrey's Great Disappearing Act

That BFF Magic

After dinner, I started my homework. It wasn't even a reluctant choice—Cori wasn't texting me as she normally does. I didn't want to be the first to text, so I kept the lines of communication open, but silent. I tried to keep my concentration on my history reading, but with Cori not herself and Aunt Liv watching some bad reality TV that seemed to draw me in as much as I loathed it, I couldn't get past a couple of pages.

By nine-thirty, I couldn't handle it anymore. I picked up my phone and sent a very casual text.

I wrote some detailed notes for Day 1 of our experiment. Sorry I didn't have them done sooner.

I waited for a response. It took a few minutes, but finally she got back to me.

Thanks. Sorry I flipped out. I wasn't mad at you.

An opening! I had to word my response carefully so that I appeared caring without appearing nosy.

I know. You could never stay mad at me for long! Were you mad at your tennis coach?

I figured that the tennis coach would be the easiest to throw under the bus. Cori actually liked the guy a lot, so I already knew what her answer would be.

No. I'm not really mad at anyone. Just myself, maybe.

I could feel my heart sink. My best friend was going through something, and I couldn't be close enough to help her work through it. It sounded like she was just being hard on herself again, but when she had done that in the past, she never ended up this moody and distant.

Chesterville Starbucks. This Friday. 6PM. Let's get some of that BFF magic going.

I hoped she would take the rest of the week to forgive herself or anyone else on planet earth for making her feel this way. Then we could get our drinks and be back to normal.

Drinks. That's when I remembered it was my week to bring the coffee, but I couldn't because of the stupid project. I immediately dialed the one person who could turn Cori's Tuesday around. "Hey Mom? I need you to help me."