The Best Friend by R.L. Stine

too.
    â€œWhat are you doing this vacation?” Becka asked Cari, trying to force her mind off Honey.
    â€œOh, Reva Dalby invited me to go skiing with her and her dad,” Cari answered, smiling. “They go skiing every Christmas, just about. I can’t wait. I’ve never been to Aspen. It should be really awesome at Christmastime.”
    They stopped outside Cari’s homeroom. “What are you doing?” Cari asked.
    â€œNot much,” Becka said. “We always stay around home. We have a million relatives to visit. And you know Trish is having a big party Saturday.”
    The second bell rang.
    â€œYeah. I’m sorry I have to miss it. Bye. Have a good one!” Cari cried, ducking into the classroom. And then she added, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
    Becka dashed across the hall to her homeroom, tossed her backpack to the floor, and slid into her seat.
    Is it just my imagination? she wondered. Or is everyone staring at me?
    Did Honey tell everyone in the room that I had a breakdown?
    She turned to look at Honey in the seat beside her. It was still a shock, a horrible shock, to see Honey’s short auburn hair, an exact copy of Becka’s haircut.
    She’s wearing my silky blue top, Becka realized angrily. And she has my parrot pin on the collar.
    Honey had a book open in her lap. She closed it and smiled at Becka.
    â€œHow are you feeling, Becka? You look so pale.”
    â€œNot so great,” Becka muttered, frowning.
    â€œI told you before we left your house you should’ve stayed home,” Honey scolded. “I would’ve brought you all your homework. I would have taken care of everything for you. Everything.”
    What am I going to do about her? Becka asked herself miserably.
    The question had become an obsession, an endless refrain.
    What am I going to do?
    â€œWhat am I going to do, Trish?” Becka asked. It came out sounding more like a plea than a question.
    Trish shivered and zipped her wool parka up to the collar. She stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and picked up her pace to keep up with Becka, her boots sinking into the soft ground.
    It was lunch period. But Becka didn’t have any appetite. After much pleading, she persuaded a reluctant Trish to go for a walk behind the school.
    It was a cold, gray day, heavy clouds hovering low. The air was wet. It smelled as if it might start to snow any minute.
    â€œYou shouldn’t be walking around outside. You’re sick,” Trish scolded.
    â€œI had to get out,” Becka told her. “I just couldn’t bear the idea of sitting in the lunchroom, trying to choke down a sandwich with Honey staring across the table at me.”
    They followed the walkway that led behind thestadium. The football field was silent and empty. One of the goalposts had been knocked over in a strong wind a few weeks before.
    â€œHoney is ruining my life,” Becka moaned. “What am I going to do?”
    â€œWhy don’t we murder her?” Trish suggested.

chapter

15
    B ecka stopped and gaped at Trish.
    Trish laughed.
    â€œOh, Trish,” Becka cried, shaking her head. “Honey has me so messed up, I actually believed you. I thought you were serious.”
    â€œNo, it was a joke,” Trish said, pulling her green wool cap down lower over her head, pushing her red curls inside it. “You really are in bad shape, Becka.”
    They had circled the stadium. Behind them stretched Shadyside Park, wintry and bare, dark, leafless trees shivering in the wind. They turned away from the park and, with the wind at their backs, began to make their way slowly toward the student parking lot.
    â€œI can’t believe I let you talk me out of lunch. I’m starving!” Trish complained.
    â€œYou’re not being very helpful,” Becka said. “I mean, about Honey.”
    â€œAnd I’m freezing,” Trish continued, ignoring Becka. “This cold air is