The BFF Bucket List

  For my mom—

  my BFF from the moment we met

  • CHAPTER ONE •

  Ella

  PISTACHIO ICE CREAM.

  It’s all that stands between two best friends and flavor number forty-seven on the big board at Three Scoops. We’ve worked our entire eighth grade year for this. One more to go, and then summer can officially begin with our mission accomplished.

  Rule #1: You cannot choose a flavor that’s been crossed off the list.

  Rule #2: You must share with your BFF. (Kill two flavors with one spoon!)

  Rule #3: Totally gross = bring home to unsuspecting little brother

  Skyler sits across the booth from me, plastic spoon in hand. “You go first, Ella,” she says.

  Sure, easy for her to say. She had praline crunch.

  “I can’t do it.” I shift in my chair, scooting away from the green glop in my bowl. “There’s a reason we picked forty-six other flavors before this one. Well, technically forty-five for me.” It drove me crazy to have to skip a flavor, but key lime pie wouldn’t have been worth the allergic reaction.

  “That was a medical pass. But you’re not getting out of this one,” says Skyler.

  I wait for us to go back and forth, me giving reasons why I shouldn’t and hearing why I absolutely have to eat it. I wait for her face to scrunch up, and for her to comment about how awful this is. Instead, Skyler reaches across the table and jabs her spoon into the ice cream.

  “Let’s get this over with,” she says, shoving a bigger-than-required spoonful into her mouth. She swallows quickly and motions toward me. “Your turn.”

  Wait, what? We’re supposed to find a million reasons to drag this out until we’re one minute away from missing our curfew.

  Skyler’s phone beeps, and she looks down at the screen.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Well, we might need to leave early,” says Skyler.

  “Early? Why? Do we have other plans?” I ask, squeezing all three questions into about one point five seconds.

  Skyler leans forward on the table and motions for me to do the same. We’re almost forehead to forehead in prime whisper position.

  “What do you think about doing something different tonight?” she asks. “You know, not our usual hanging out at one of our houses.”

  It’s like we’re in spy mode. “Like what?” I whisper as if she’s going to suggest an international covert operation.

  “Like a scary movie,” says Skyler.

  I jolt back and sit upright. “We don’t like scary movies.”

  Skyler leans her head against the soft cushion of the booth. “You don’t like scary movies, Ella. So I never suggest them. But I’d like to try something new for a change.”

  “Oh,” I say, my shoulders slumping.

  “Brooke’s mom said she could have some friends over for a movie night, and we’re invited,” says Skyler. I wait to see if she’s finished because I’m pretty sure she’s not. “And I want to go.”

  Brooke seems nice enough, although I don’t know her very well since we’ve only been in one class together. But scary movies, with the possibility of spiders and blood and people jumping out from behind trees? No. Thank. You.

  “And I don’t want to go,” I say.

  Just like that, instead of undercover spies on a secret mission, we’re Wild West cowboys in a tense standoff. There’s a baby crying, a couple snuggled into a booth in the corner, and a group of older teenagers laughing hysterically. And then there’s me and Skyler, sitting silently.

  “Maybe I should just go and we can meet up tomorrow?” says Skyler. She turns on her puppy-dog eyes, silently begging me to let her off the hook. But I know she’ll stay if I ask her to.

  “We were supposed to celebrate,” I say. “We can finally order our favorite flavors again.”

  Her eyes are pleading, and oh my pistachio, I really don’t want to be a jerk about this. It’s my best friend duty to give her a pass, right?

  “Have fun,” I finally say. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

  “Of course,” says Skyler. “Like I could ever go more than a day without you.”

  We laugh that one-ha kind of laugh where you don’t even need the rest.

  “You’re the best, Ella.” Skyler hops out of the booth and leans down to give me a hug. She’s out the door and back on her phone in no time at all.

  I poke my spoon at the pistachio ice cream and prepare to finish the mission solo. My taste buds fight me every step of the way, but I manage to swallow it anyway. Let’s just say I would have preferred one called Alligator Chunk Surprise.

  I text my mom to come pick me up early. And, because why not, I take another bite.

  • • •

  I’m used to waiting for Skyler because she’s always twelve minutes late. Always. I don’t think she means to be, but I notice these things. Twelve minutes. Exactly.

  “Honey, Skyler’s here,” Mom yells up the stairs. A few second later, there’s a quick thump, thump, thump of footsteps on the wooden stairs. I scoot over on the bed to make room for what I know is coming. Skyler belly flops on the mattress, face-planting into the lacy throw pillow. For someone who is so proud of being a free spirit, she’s insanely predictable.

  Skyler flips over and stares up at the ceiling. “I met a really cute boy, Ella.”

  Here we go again. Whenever Skyler mentions a “really cute boy,” I know she’s already head over heels.

  “Okay, okay, but give me a minute.” I walk over to my bookshelf and pick up one of the memory boxes we’ve been keeping since kindergarten. It’s full of photos and trinkets—we’ll definitely need a new one for high school.

  I sit down at my desk ready to add to the collection. “What do you have for me?”

  She pulls a penny out of her pocket.

  I reach over and grab it, inspecting the shiny copper coating in the sunlight that’s gleaming through the window. “Should I even ask what this has to do with the mystery boy?”

  Skyler sits up and sighs. “We all went to The Donut last night after the movie. He was in line.”

  The Donut is the neighborhood hangout when we’re not at Three Scoops. The building is actually shaped like a doughnut that’s lying flat and people always give directions based on our town’s famous landmark.

  “Head north and turn left at The Donut.”

  “Keep going until you see The Donut. Can’t miss it.”

  No, seriously, you can’t.

  “He didn’t even realize he dropped the penny,” Skyler continues, “and I had to act like I was adjusting my flip-flop in order to get it without looking like a complete tool.”

  “So does ‘the one’ have a name?” I ask as I glue-stick the back of the penny and start a new page.

  “I have no idea,” says Skyler. “But I overheard him talking about Jefferson High and freshman year. Maybe he went to Adams Middle?”

  Two middle schools filter into Jefferson High. Ours is Washington Middle, and Adams is on the other side of town. Next year will be full of new faces.

  Skyler can’t wait.

  I can’t eat enough Starbursts—my favorite candy—to calm myself down whenever I think about it.

  Without waiting for an answer, Skyler changes the subject. “So, Brooke’s going to the bowling alley later. She says some kids from Adams will be there too. We should totally go.”

  Bowling with Skyler would be great—I can never get her to go—but it won’t be just me and Skyler. “Will we know anyone?” I ask.

  “You know Brooke,” Skyler points out. “And I’m sure kids from school will show up.”

  I add a pleading to my voice. “Can’t we stay here and hang out? I’d rather it was just us.”
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  Skyler crosses her legs at the ankles and fiddles with one of her chunky rings. “It’s summer, Ella. We can hang out here anytime, but everyone’s going out tonight.”

  My mind is spinning with how to respond, and I’m way too aware of my breathing. Why is this so incredibly awkward right now?

  “Come with me?” asks Skyler, getting up. She’s made her decision.

  I turn from side to side in my wheelie desk chair. “I think I’m gonna stay home.”

  We sit without talking for what is most certainly forever, but when I check the clock, only a minute has passed.

  “I’ll try not to stay late so I can text you when I get home, okay?” says Skyler.

  “Sure.” I swing my chair back to the desk and smooth the penny down onto the paper. “Let me know if Penny Boy is there.”

  Skyler tousles my brown curls on the way out the door, and the smell of today’s conditioner choice floats through the air. “Ooh, peach,” she says. “Who needs a calendar when I have your hair-care routine to tell me what day it is?”

  She laughs and we wave like we always do—as if we’re princesses—but for some reason it feels like a bigger good-bye than usual.

  • CHAPTER TWO •

  Skyler

  I’VE NEVER FELT WEIRD LEAVING Ella’s house. Like, ever. I hate this feeling.

  What doesn’t sound fun about hanging out at a bowling alley with a bunch of friends? I mean, yeah, I don’t bowl, but the hanging out part and the friends part? I’m all over that.

  It’s crowded when I get here, so I scan the sea of people for someone I know. And there’s Travis, my next door neighbor who’s supersweet but also slightly annoying. I mean the boy is 200 percent Gorgeous with a capital G, but he has no filter when it comes to social skills and uses the phrase “cray cray” like he earns a dollar every time he says it. And once he has your attention, he won’t stop talking. He cornered me yesterday when I went to get the mail. I said I had to go to the bathroom and never came back.

  I try to duck behind a pillar, but my swiftness needs some major work. “Major Work,” I say with a salute but then quickly realize Ella isn’t here to appreciate the joke.

  “Did you just salute me?” Travis pokes his head around the pillar. Without the bathroom excuse, I’m out of ideas in my getaway box. “That’s cray cray.”

  “Nope, just brushing hair out of my face.” I push another strand off my forehead as if that makes my case. “How’s it going, Travis?”

  He stares at me for way too long, and I can’t tell if there’s really something in that brain of his or if he’s off in space somewhere. “That was a long trip to the bathroom yesterday,” he says. “I waited for like an hour. Everything okay?”

  This kid’s tone is impossible to read. Is he actually concerned or is he making me own up to ditching him?

  “Everything’s good. Sorry, I had some things to do in the house.” I don’t elaborate. To my left, I catch a glimpse of Brooke and couldn’t be more relieved. “Oh, there’s my friend. I gotta go. Nice chatting with you.” I sprint over to Brooke, grab her by the arm, and guide her out of Travis’s field of view.

  “What’s that about?” she asks. “That boy is adorable. I wish he’d been in more of my classes in middle school. Maybe next year.”

  “Trust me, don’t judge a book by its cover,” I say.

  Brooke shakes her head at me. “Where’s Ella?”

  “Oh, um, she couldn’t come out tonight.” Feeling guilty, I reach in my pocket for my phone to text Ella. “Hang on a sec,” I say. But that’s when he appears across the room. I grab Brooke by the shoulders and turn her in the other direction. “Oh my god, it’s Penny Boy.”

  And he’s smiling at me.

  Ella! Penny Boy is HERE. What do I do?

  I don’t know how long I can wait for her reply. I’m crouched behind the end of the counter like a four-year-old playing hide-and-seek.

  “Excuse me, Miss. Your shoes?” The cashier holds a pair of size six bowling shoes out for me.

  I reach my hand up and grab them, throwing a five-dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks. Keep the change.”

  “Um, it’s six-dollars and fifty cents for the shoes and the game,” he says.

  “Six fifty? For these shoes?” Brooke has insisted I join in, so I have no choice.

  I pay up and scoot over to a table out of the way to put on the shoes. My phone beeps with a text from Ella.

  The Queen of Flirting is asking ME for advice? lol. Go say hi. Flip your hair or something.

  But I’m terrified to talk to him.

  As I hit send, I’m sure she’s wondering if it’s really me. I’ve never been afraid to talk to anyone before.

  Maybe Brooke has an idea? Gotta go. Watching movie with little bro.

  I wait for an lol or a smiley face, but they don’t come.

  Ella’s right. I am the Queen of Flirting. I can totally do this. I stand up tall in my disgustingly red-and-tan mosaic shoes, convincing myself that the cute summer dress and my long, shiny locks will take the focus off the not-so-fashionable footwear. I take long strides to the lane where Brooke is waiting for me.

  The place is packed. Bowling teams with embroidered jerseys line the alleyways and crowds of middle schoolers and high schoolers fill in the rest. I focus on Brooke and make it my goal simply to get to her. Penny Boy probably won’t even notice me in all this chaos.

  This isn’t so hard, I think to myself.

  But then it happens. In one huge whirlwind.

  Penny Boy is in my sight.

  He waves.

  I attempt to wave back, but before I can lift my hand in the air . . . I slip on the freshly shined floor.

  My legs come out from under me.

  I land. With a thud.

  On my butt.

  “Oh my god, Skyler, are you okay?” Brooke is standing over me, holding out her hand.

  Ouch. Ouch. Ouch!

  I grab onto her with one hand and use the other to shield my face. “Please tell me Penny Boy did not see that. Seriously, lie to me if you have to.”

  She squeezes her lips together and doesn’t say a word. A group of kids has gathered around me, and the sound of bowling balls dropping is now practically nonexistent.

  “Okay, okay, go back to your games, people,” says Brooke’s friend Quinn, her voice echoing through the place. “Nothing to see here.” Her face is turned toward the crowd, not me, but I can see her messy, brown bob from behind as she ushers people away.

  Quinn pulls me up and helps me to a colorful, plastic, very uncomfortable seat. The instant I sit, a bolt of pain shoots up from my tailbone.

  Ouch. Ouch. Triple ouch!

  I know without a doubt that while he is “Penny Boy” to me, I am most certainly “That girl who fell on her butt” to him.

  Wait until Ella hears about this.

  • CHAPTER THREE •

  Ella

  THE MOVIE MY LITTLE BROTHER, Nicholas, picked out last night had me nodding off way before a decent bedtime. He had to wake me up and poke me up the stairs into bed when it was over. Yes, poke. He takes his lightsaber duties a little too seriously.

  “Cut it out, young Padawan,” I remember saying in a groggy voice.

  “To the dungeon, Princess Leia.” Poke, poke, poke.

  I didn’t mention that the dungeon wouldn’t be upstairs.

  I wake up to the sound of a typewriter going off from my cell phone. A text from Skyler.

  Too late last night to message you, but OMG. Wait until you hear this.

  I’m sure she has a great story. Bowling was probably superamazingly fun last night. And I missed it. All the things Skyler is excited about form a list in my head. Because that’s how I always think—in lists and rules.

  1. Have an amazing summer

  2. Hang out with friends

  3. Meet cute boys

  4. Go to high school

  5. Take new classes but don’t try too hard

  6. Meet cute bo
ys

  They’re all different from what I’d put on my list, except number one—have an amazing summer. And I wonder how that’s possible when my BFF and I don’t ever want to do the same things anymore. Mine goes something like this:

  1. Have an amazing summer with Skyler

  2. Watch (non-scary!) movies

  3. Look at cute boys from across the room, but never actually do anything about it

  4. Avoid thinking about high school for as long as possible

  5. Panic about new classes and work my butt off to make the honor roll

  6. Get 100 percent embarrassed when a boy talks to me. (IF a boy ever talks to me)

  I sigh and remember I need to respond to Skyler’s text.

  Want to come over and tell me about it?

  She answers with a capital letter shout and a total of four exclamation points.

  YES!! Be there by ten!!

  I take that all as a good sign. But still, the energy has drained from my body as I imagine all the ways she’ll be moving on without me this summer and especially in high school.

  Unless . . . I rewrite those lists.

  I jump out of bed and head to my desk, pulling out a notebook and pen from the drawer.

  Yes, yes, yes, this is the answer to saving our friendship from high-school-tear-apart disaster, which I refuse to let happen. What would I ever do without Skyler?

  We’ll have that amazing summer, doing all the things we’ve always wanted to. Plus crazy things. Things I’d never in a million years do without Skyler by my side. And I promise myself I’ll include the “Seriously, Ella, we have to do this someday” things only Skyler would put on there. Because if it means holding on to our friendship, I’m so in.

  I type “best friend summer bucket list” in the search box on my computer screen and get over thirteen million results. Thirteen million. The idea that other friends all over the world are doing the same thing makes me smile. I read through the first ten links and make mental notes of what I’m sure will be Skyler’s favorites (skipping the no-way-José-am-I-doing-that choices). I even start a Pinterest board of ideas.

  When I have the perfect challenges picked out, I open the notebook and across the top in big, bold letters, I write,