Comeback by Jessica Burkhart Page B

of fat, puffy clouds that threatened to burst open into a downpour at any
     second.
    I loved rainy days—they gave me an excuse to break out my shiny
     apple-red rain boots. I’d done my hair in a French braid this morning to avoid
     looking like a giant puff ball by second period. (Thanks, Mom, for the frizzy hair
     gene!)Khloe, not knowing how to French braid, had asked me to do
     her hair. Gladly, I’d taught her a new EBT (essential beauty trick). Now we both
     sported une tresse française .
    â€œAt least the day’s half over and we’ve got lunch
     next,” I said. “We can ignore Riley and enjoy free time.”
    I pulled open the door to the cafeteria and paused to shake off the
     umbrella. Khloe followed me inside. We got in the lunch line, my stomach growling.
    While we waited, I glanced around and saw something that made me want to
     grab Khloe and drag her out of the cafeteria. Riley sat on a
     lunch table, surrounded by a group of people in our grade. Her voice carried across the
     cafeteria, and everyone was staring at her as if she was telling them the most amazing,
     groundbreaking news in history.
    â€œWhat’re you getting?” I asked Khloe, trying to get her
     attention. But I was too late. Her eyes were narrowed on Riley and her entourage.
    â€œI’m not getting anywhere near
     that,” Khloe said. “I can imagine everything Riley’s saying without
     hearing it. It’s probably the long, epic version of what she wanted to tell us
     last night. Sorry, not interested.”
    I scrunched my nose. “I’m sorry, Khlo. It just shows how
     classless Riley really is. There’s a difference between sharing your experiences
     with someone and braggingabout them. Sooner or later, trust me,
     people will get tired of the me-me-me act.”
    Khloe smiled. Pink princess-cut cubic zirconia earrings—a loan from
     me—sparkled in her ears. “You’re a pretty decent best friend. Know
     that?”
    I shrugged. “You might have said something like that once or
     twice.”
    Lunch was buffet-style today. I gravitated toward the soup and salad bar.
     I filled a bowl with creamed spinach and cheese soup, then threw together a salad.
     Romaine lettuce, cucumbers, blue cheese crumbles, grape tomatoes, a few walnuts, and
     raspberry vinaigrette.
    Looking at the tray caught me off guard for a second. I remembered that
     Mom and Dad had tried unsuccessfully for years to get me to
     eat their fave salad. I’d only tried it when Becca promised I’d like it or
     she’d eat anything of my choosing. As an eleven-year-old, that offer had been
     impossible to pass up. Much to Becca’s delight—her grin said I-was-right-but-I-won’t-rub-it-in-your-face —I loved
     the salad. A slice of strawberry cheesecake and a Sprite and I was set.
    â€œReady?” Khloe asked me. She had a grilled cheese and turkey
     sandwich, a handful of Goldfish, and a strawberry Vitaminwater.
    â€œReady.”
    We started toward our usual table. The caf
     wasn’t too crowded. I liked that Canterwood allowed students to eat lunch at the
     on-campus restaurants twice a week. Khloe said it was a new rule this year. If only
     Riley had chosen today to have pizza at the Slice.
    â€œI want to eat as far away from that as
     possible,” Khloe grumbled.
    â€œI know it’s easier said than done, but put on your poker
     face. Become a character, maybe, who isn’t affected by Riley. If you look upset,
     you’re giving her what she wants.”
    Khloe looked at me. “Go into character. You’re right.”
     She closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. When she opened her eyes, her jaw
     relaxed, and there was a friendly Khloe smiling at me.
    â€œWow. You are seriously a très talented actress,” I said. “I’m trying to look half as nonchalant as
     you do right now.”
    Khloe bumped her arm against