If Lottie thinks I’m going to show up on her doorstep, she is sorely mistaken. I won’t call her, and she’s afraid to call me. I know this ’cause the phone hasn’t rung in two days. Serves her right. She wants to go off with Melissa, fine, but don’t think I’m waiting around. I got lots of stuff to do.
Like right now, in the two days the phone hasn’t rung, I have read three and a half books I got from the bookmobile. I cleaned my room—not shoving everything under my bed like how I usually do it, but actually sorting things out and putting them neat like how Momma likes it. I also pulled weeds from Momma’s flower beds. I thought I’d let Lottie see me outside so she could come over and apologize, but that girl is ashamed enough that she couldn’t find her way over.
I check the kitchen clock. It’s almost three o’clock. My eyes are going to pop out if I read any more, and I’m wearing down a path to the window, where I keep spying on Lottie’s house. I have decided that Lottie’s sentence will be over at three. She has suffered long enough.
Lord, that minute hand creeps slower than a snail. I can barely take the slowness. Sweat trickles down by my ear. I’ve already shut off the fans and closed the windows so I don’t waste any time getting over to Lottie’s. Ten, nine, eight, seven—c’mon, c’mon—five, four, three, two, one. Finally! Three o’clock.
Gladness rushes over me as I dash out the door and over to Lottie’s. I’ll forgive her instantly. I’m not one of those to hold a grudge over someone who’s truly sorry, and I know Lottie will be. We been best friends forever.
I raise my fist and knock on the door. We haven’t driven Mr. Townsend’s old truck around for a while. Today would be a good day for that. I knock again. Then I notice all the windows are sealed and the wood door is shut solid behind the screen. I pound on the door. “Lottie! Lottie!”
I don’t hear even a whisper.
Backing off the porch steps, I look up to the bedroom windows. No sign of anyone. I back up a little more so I can see the whole house.
Nothing.
I have been shut out.
My heart hollows out, then hardens. I bet I know where they are. All laughing and having a good time with Melissa Gold. Lord, how I hate that girl. Marching back to my own porch, I kick up their gravel driveway, sending a spray of stones against their house. I didn’t mean to hit it, but it’s kind of satisfying because now I have hurt them, even if it’s only their house.