The Friendship Bracelet
Thank you for purchasing this eBook.
At Sourcebooks we believe one thing:
BOOKS CHANGE LIVES.
We would love to invite you to receive exclusive rewards. Sign up now for VIP savings, bonus content, early access to new ideas we're developing, and sneak peeks at our hottest titles!
Happy reading!
SIGN UP NOW!
Copyright © 2017 by Arlene Stewart
Cover and internal design © 2017 by Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover design by Ellen Duda
Cover image © Gillian Vann/Stocksy
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
Fax: (630) 961-2168
www.sourcebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
How to Make Your Own Friendship Bracelet
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
For Lee and Jana, my two funny Katonah girls. Love you both!
Chapter 1
“Paris!” exclaimed Olivia Jones. “You’re moving to Paris!”
Boom! Her entire summer went up in flames.
Worse: her whole life fell apart.
Because without Alex—without popular, funny Alex LeBrun—how was Olivia ever going to survive the ordeal of middle school? The tallest-shyest-klutziest-kid-in-sixth-grade ordeal?
Suddenly, Olivia’s long, thin legs felt wobbly, and she slumped down on her bed like a newborn colt, her face totally colorless, her hands shaking. Sensing her distress, Sullivan, her two-year-old golden retriever, leaped up beside her.
Alex looked down at Olivia and felt helpless. She knew Olivia’s reaction would be bad, but she hadn’t thought it would be this bad. “Please, please, Ollie, please don’t go crazy,” she pleaded over and over.
Olivia was unable to do anything but sit still. She couldn’t believe that up until a minute ago she had actually thought this was going to be a great day. Who doesn’t love the first day of summer vacation?
But now, instead of her days being filled with fun, her heart was filled with a dread she had never known before. Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks and strands of her long, blond hair stuck to her face.
“Oh, Ollie, don’t cry!” said Alex, pushing in beside Sullivan. “Maman made us promise not to tell anyone until Papa’s transfer was official. Keeping this from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Honestly!”
Alex rubbed her friend’s back and looked around Olivia’s light-blue bedroom. Dozens of photos illustrated their inseparable-BFF story: every birthday, every Christmas, every Fourth of July, every Halloween since the first day of preschool to last night’s moving-up ceremony from Village Elementary, when Alex won the math prize and Olivia the English.
Her gaze fell on Olivia’s desk, and that was when she almost lost it. The two identical purple-and-white friendship bracelets they’d been making for each other were laying there side by side…unfinished.
“When do you have to go?” Olivia finally asked, her lip quivering.
“In a couple of weeks,” Alex replied. “Papa’s office has arranged un appartement for us while we look for something permanent.”
“Permanent!” cried Olivia, her worst fears confirmed. Alex was moving from New York to Paris—only three thousand miles away or more!
Fresh tears flowed down her cheeks and fell onto her Camp Monroe T-shirt, one from last summer. It felt so tight now. Why hadn’t she realized it wouldn’t fit? She had grown six inches in the past year! Maybe she really was a giraffe or one of the other horrible names creepy Ethan Fleckman kept calling her.
There was a gentle knock at the door. Olivia’s mother slowly opened it and looked in at the sad scene.
“Oh, Mom, it’s all right,” said Olivia, wiping her face on the shirt. “Alex just told me their family is moving to Paris in two weeks. That’s all.”
“Yes, Ollie, I know,” said her mother softly. “Alex’s mother already called me.”
“What? Everybody knew but me?” cried Olivia, feeling like a total freak. “I’ve got to get out of here!” She jumped up, brushed past her mother, and thundered down the staircase with Sullivan fast at her heels.
“Where are you going?” shouted her mother over the bannister.
“I don’t know. Anywhere. To Katonah Cupcakes!”
“Wait for me!” cried Alex, grabbing their shoulder bags.
Chapter 2
“It’s Always Time for a Cupcake—Open Saturdays at 10:00” said the hand-lettered sign propped on a cake plate in the storefront of Katonah Cupcakes.
Olivia peered inside. A big clock by the register said 9:15. It was way too early, but before they could even think about someplace else to go, Alex’s phone rang.
“It’s my mother. I have to take it,” she said to Olivia. “Oui, Maman?” she answered. Holding her hand over the phone, she explained in a whisper, “Maman is making us speak French all the time now. Oui, Maman?”
Olivia nodded. Over the years, she’d picked up a lot of French from Alex’s family.
“I have to go home and help Maman figure out what to take with us and what to donate to the hospital thrift shop,” Alex said, hanging up. “Come over later?”
Olivia hesitated.
“Come on, Ollie. We have to find a way to make it better!” Alex insisted.
“OK. I’ll text you.”
“Got to go. Bye,” said Alex, hurrying away.
Rigid as a stop sign, Olivia stood on the street corner, watching her BFF disappear down the block.
“Beep, beep! Out of the way, Beanpole!” Ethan Fleckman’s booming voice startled her.
She twisted around and jumped out of the way of his flying skateboard. “Ethan, you almost ran into me!” she cried.
“Nah. I was totally in control,” replied the sturdy boy with the thick, black hair and dark eyes that Olivia always imagined had come from some distant Asian ancestor. She couldn’t help checking out his outfit. Wasn’t there something weird about wearing a New York Rangers practice shirt and helmet with flip-flops?
“Hey, what time does your mother’s shop open?” he said. “I need my new threads, Beanie.”
Maybe I should call him some names too, Olivia thought. I could think of some good ones… But instead she said, “Ten o’clock, as usual.” Her mom taught her to always be polite to Katonah Crafts customers, even exasperating ones like Ethan, a major friendship-bracelet guru who practically lived there.
“Cool,” replied Ethan. “So where’s your Siamese twin?”
“If you mean Alex…she’s home.”
“Cool.” Ethan laughed and coasted off.
Olivia shook her head, crossed Bedford Road to the Parkway, and walked slowly down the block to her house. Like most of the houses in the village, it was a big, old-fashioned Victorian built well over one hundred years ago with a wide, wraparound front porch, shutters, and lots of bay windows.
Olivia’s mom was in the front garden picking roses. “What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing!” muttered Olivia as she walked up the steps and flung open the front door. “I’m going to my room. I need to be alone.”
“Well, take Sullivan with you,” her mother called after her and then cut off a big thorn on a beautiful yellow rose.
Chapter 3
“Call Me Maybe” woke Olivia at seven the next morning. It was Alex. “I’m on packing duty, and Maman is cracking the whip until we’re done,” she said breathlessly. “But listen, Ollie, Papa wants to teach us how to Skype. Your dad said OK. Can you come over at eleven?”
After a noticeable pause Olivia asked, “Will your papa be teaching us in French—en français?”
“Very funny,” Alex replied. “Come on, Ollie.”
“OK…”
“Good!”
“Don’t you mean d’accord?” said Olivia, clicking off. She reached under the bed for her slippers, getting them on her feet a second before Sullivan tried to steal them.
“Oh, was that Alex?” asked her mother, walking by with a coffee mug.
“Yes,” replied Olivia.
“And?”
“And I’m going over there at eleven.”
“You are? That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” said her mother.
Olivia stood up. “Um,” she said, dashing out of the room, “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Use ours. I just got some new shampoo,” shouted her mom.
In the bathroom, a note was taped on the mirror. “Look in my dresser—there’s a surprise for you. XXXOOO, Mom.” Guess Mom knew I was headed this way, thought Olivia.
As she stepped into the shower, a calmness poured over her like a silky coating of bodywash. The sharp needles of water felt extra-invigorating, and her mom’s new shampoo wasn’t bad either. Revived, Olivia dried off and remembered the note: “Look in my dresser.”
She pretty much knew everything her mother owned. She had realized at a young age that complete access to all your parents’ things was one of the perks of being an only child.
Pulling out the top three drawers, she quickly discovered nothing unusual. Before she could reach the bottom drawer, Sullivan came prancing in with her old tennis shoe in his mouth.
“Hey, give that to me.” Olivia laughed, wrestling away the shoe. She leaned over to open the last drawer.
Right on top was a gift bag with a card that said “Ollie.” What is this? She reached for it. It was way too light for a new phone, although that would have been cool. Still puzzled, she plowed through a mound of tissue paper.
“Ooh,” she said, taking out a pair of black, patterned tights. They were the ones she had seen at the mall…the ones her mom thought were too “mature” for her. Guess Mom got them yesterday—to make me feel better, Olivia quickly realized.
Spotting a pencil on top of the dresser, Olivia scribbled “Thanks! Love you!” on the note and then added a heart.
Without warning, Sullivan started to bark. Right away, Olivia realized what he wanted—the tissue paper. It was his true passion. Sheet by sheet, Olivia threw the paper high in the air and watched as he jumped to snag each one. This never gets old, she thought with a smile.
With Sullivan happily shredding, Olivia leaned down to close the drawer but then noticed something unfamiliar—what looked to be a small leather pouch tucked in a back corner. When she picked it up, she could see that the leather was faded and cracked.
“Where did this come from, Sully?” she asked in a puzzled voice, plopping on her parents’ bed. “Jeez, this knot is so tight.”
Finally, she said with satisfaction, pulling the bag open, “There!”
Coiled inside was a well-worn friendship bracelet in shades of sky blue and white. Olivia examined the arrow pattern, a fairly simple one she had used a lot when her mom was teaching her the basics.
“We’re home!” Olivia’s dad boomed from downstairs.
Sullivan jumped from the bed and raced out with bits of tissue paper hanging from his mouth.
Better put this back, thought Olivia, slipping the pouch into the dresser drawer. Straightening up, she asked herself, Was I supposed to find this? How come I’ve never seen it until now? Before anyone could come looking for her, she grabbed her new tights and ran back to her room.
At first she reached for her cutoffs and tank top but then stopped. No, I’m not going to dress like old Olivia, she decided. Instead, she pulled out her best shorts and a brand-new Alexander Hamilton Middle School T-shirt in white and purple, her new school colors.
Then, standing before her mirror, she brushed her long hair up into a ponytail. I’m not going to be nothing, she told her image. I don’t care how tall I get—or what Ethan Fleckman thinks.
Chapter 4
The next morning started with breakfast burritos, one dish Olivia’s dad totally crushed.
“Seriously yummy, Dad,” she said, trying to get her plate into the dishwasher without Sullivan licking it. “Stop, Sullivan, I have to go.” In her haste, she stepped into his water bowl. Great—now her tennis sneakers were soaked.
“I’ll wipe it up. You just go,” said Olivia’s dad, shooting her a thumbs-up as she headed to the mudroom for her bike helmet and tennis racquet. Lessons started at nine o’clock, and Olivia liked to be early.
As she pedaled up to the town park, a light mist covering the hilltop reminded her of an old nursery rhyme: “One misty, moisty morning, when cloudy was the weather, I chanced to meet an old man clothed all in leather.” But as she approached the courts, the mist lifted and she could see a few teenage girls but no old men. Most were texting, but then she noticed a couple who were weaving friendship bracelets fastened with safety pins to their cutoffs.
That reminds me, she thought, I have to follow up on that mysterious friendship bracelet in Mom’s drawer. And maybe I have time to make a special going-away one for Alex. One in pink, her favorite color.
“Hey, Olivia!” a cheerful voice interrupted her thoughts.
She looked over to see Mu Mu Lin, a girl she had bumped into every now and then at Alex’s house, when Mu Mu was taking French lessons from her BFF’s mother.
“Bummer about Alex’s family moving away,” Mu Mu said, brushing back her long, straight, black hair. “Mom is making me go to a new French tutor, tout de suite, although she keeps saying there’s nobody like Madame LeBrun.”
“Oh, hi, Mu Mu,” replied Olivia. “Ar
e you here for the tennis lesson?”
“I wish. My dopey brother left his phone on the court yesterday. Can you believe it? I have to go to the office and pick it up. Mom’s in the car. Gotta go before she freaks out—again! See you in camp?”
“Town camp? Great,” said Olivia, waving good-bye. Mu Mu had graduated from Meadowlark Elementary, a different school than Village Elementary, but this fall, they’d both be in Alexander Hamilton Middle School. Well, at least I have one friendly person in my new class, she thought.
Ten minutes later, a whistle blew.
“Advanced beginners, line up!” yelled Mr. Ocampo, the summer athletics director.
Olivia walked over to the court and was puzzled that the older girls she’d seen earlier were actually in her group. Then, the instructor trotted onto the court—a tall, good-looking teenager with Prince Harry–red hair and freckles. Mystery solved, thought Olivia, laughing to herself.
“This is Tatum Donnelly, and he’ll be your instructor,” announced Mr. Ocampo, checking off names on a clipboard.
“Can you believe he’s only a junior?” one excited girl whispered to a friend behind Olivia.
After thirty minutes of serving and volleying with the older girls, Olivia was feeling pumped. She had more than held her own against them. Tatum blew his whistle and called the group together at the net.
“So, Olivia, you already have a strong serve. How old are you again? Fifteen?” he asked.
Fifteen! Olivia thought she’d seriously fry under the harsh glare from his fan club. She just smiled—she wasn’t going to say she was eleven in front of this crew.
After the first game, Tatum paired her with a tallish boy Olivia had never seen before.
The first thing she noticed, besides his height, was the adorable way his sun-bleached curls framed his tanned face. He seemed to be about her age and was wearing baggy, white cargo shorts and a tank top that said “Endless Summer.”
“Surfer Dude” she instantly named him in her mind.
As he chased her serves, his body moved well, and he even smiled at her when she scored against him.