my toothbrush back down. “Wash your hands.”
“I was going to.”
“And brush your teeth.” Before Kitty can open her mouth, I say, “Don’t say you were going to,
because I know you weren’t.”
Kitty will do anything to get out of brushing her teeth.
We can’t just let this tree house go without a proper send-off. It wouldn’t be right. We always said
we’d come back. I will have a party, and it will be themed. Genevieve would sneer at that, how
babyish—but it’s not like I’m inviting her, so who cares what she thinks. It will just be Peter, Chris,
Trevor, and... John. I’ll have to invite John. As friends, just friends.
What did we eat that summer? Cheez Doodles. Melty ice cream sandwiches—the chocolate wafer
would stick to our fingers. Lukewarm Hawaiian Punch flowed freely. Capri Suns when we could get
them. John always had a double-decker peanut butter and jelly sandwich with him in a ziplock bag
that his mother packed. I’ll be sure to have all of those snacks for the party.
What else? Trevor had portable speakers he used to carry around. His dad was big into Southern
rock, and that summer Trevor played “Sweet Home Alabama” so much that Peter threw his speakers
out of the tree house and Trevor wouldn’t speak to him for days. Trevor Pike had brown hair that
curled when it was wet, and he was chubby in the way that middle school boys are (in the cheeks,
around the middle) right before they have a big growth spurt and everything sort of evens out. He was
always hungry and hanging around other people’s cupboards. He’d have to go pee, and he’d come
back with a Popsicle or a banana, or cheese crackers, whatever he could scam. Trevor was Peter’s
number three. It went John and Peter and then Trevor. They don’t hang out so much anymore. Trevor’s
more friends with the track guys. We don’t have any classes together; I’m in all honors and APs and
Trevor was never that into school or grades. He was fun, though.
I remember the day Genevieve showed up at my house crying, saying she was moving. Not far,
she’d still go to school with us, but she wouldn’t be able to ride her bike or walk over anymore. Peter
was sad; he comforted her, put his arms around her. I remember thinking how grown-up they seemed
in that moment, like real teenagers in love. And then Chris and Gen had a fight about something, a
bigger fight than usual; I don’t even remember what it was about. I think something with their parents.
Whenever their parents weren’t getting along, things trickled down to them like trash floating down a
river.
Gen moved away, and we were still friends, and then, around the time of the eighth grade dance,
she dropped me. I guess there was no place for me in her life anymore. I thought Genevieve was
someone I would know forever. Those people in your life that you just always know, no matter what.
But it’s not that way. Here we are, three years later, and we’re worse than strangers. I know she took
that video; I know she sent it to Anonybitch. How could I forgive that?