Suzanne Nelson - Shake It Off

Its over, I moaned as I collapsed into the booth across from my best friend, Leila. Even the sugary aroma wafting from the milkshakes behind the Sip & Shake counterone of the best scents in the entire worldcouldnt cheer me today. My spirits sank even further when I realized that Leila, her thumbs flying over her smartphone screen, hadnt even glanced up. Not that I could blame her. If I had my phone with me, Id be doing the exact same thing right now.

I was still reeling from the fact that Mom and Dad had taken away my phone privileges for the entire summer.

I tried again, louder this time. I said Its. Over.

Huh? Leilas eyes flicked to my face, then back to her screen. Oh. You mean your life? She shrugged. Yeah its over for sure.

Her nonchalant tone made my stomach clench. I wanted her to be as upset as I was. We were about to be separated for the whole summer. But she didnt look very upset. She looked as smilingly pretty and put together as always. Her enviable golden-bronze skinso glowing compared to my own pale complexionshimmered with the blush her parents let her use, and her sunflower-yellow maxi dress (which Id picked out) made her look older and more sophisticated than any other soon-to-be seventh grader I knew.

But, hey, she continued, I ordered your fave, the Purple Pixie Dust. On me as a parting gift.

The Purple Pixie wasnt actually my favorite. All the towering milkshakes at Sip & Shake were amazing, but my favorite was the Heavenly Heath Cheesequake: a dulce de leche milkshake with bits of crumbled Heath bar and caramel cheesecake topping. I didnt correct her, though. Nobody ever corrected Leila Flores. Thanks. I have to drink quickly, though. I can only stay for a little while.

She rolled her eyes. Right. I forgot. The whole forbidden friendship thing.

Not forbidden. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. More like discouraged. My parents didnt know I was meeting Leila here after school. They hadnt exactly told me I wasnt allowed to hang out with her. Theyd said they were worried about her influence on me, and that I was spending all my time with her. Then theyd told me the summer would be a good break from her. Leila, though, had been completely nonplussed when Id confessed their critique to her.

Parents are so pedestrian, shed said. Theyll forget everything by next week. Mine always do.

I had my doubts about that. My dad is a seismologist and my mom is a professor of archaeology. Studying earthquakes and the demise of thousand-year-old civilizations seems to have fine-tuned their parental alert systems. They never forget anything .

So where did you tell the rents you were going this afternoon? Leila asked, her thumb swiping through her Instagram feed. I tried to see what she was liking, but the pics were scrolling by too fast.

To the library to return some books. I shrugged. And I am . As soon as were finished with our shakes.

She laughed. Well, they cant punish you more than they already have. They took away your phone and theyve exiled you for the whole summer. I mean, its not like you cracked your screen on purpose.

I know, I agreed. I set it down on the locker room floor for two seconds and I cringed, remembering the ominous Crunch! when Sheena Jackson had stepped backward, right onto my phone.

And two months away from Chicago? Leila added. Its like theyre stranding you on Mars.

A car honked its horn, and I glanced out the window at the bustling street. Only a few blocks from my familys apartment and our middle school, Sip & Shake was the perfect hangout. I didnt just love the shakes; I loved that I could watch what felt like the entire world pass by outside the windows. Living in the main downtown area of the city, the Loop, felt like being at the center of a glittering galaxy of skyscrapers. Everywhere, there was something to see and do: light and people and beautiful noise. And I was about to lose it all.

I dropped my head into my hands. I wasnt leaving Chicago as punishment for breaking my phone, but that hardly mattered. It felt like the worst kind of punishment all the same. Two months on a farm.

Leilas nose wrinkled, as if the very word summoned the smell of cows and chickens. I still dont understand why your parents couldnt have just taken you to California with them. I mean California or Iowa? She raised her hands palms up and moved them up and down, as if she were a scale weighing the two options. Its a no-brainer.

I know. I sighed. I begged them, but theyre both going to be so busy with work. Dad was doing a hands-on field study of the San Andreas Fault, and Mom had agreed to teach at a summer program at Stanford University. Theyd been waiting until I was old enough to make this trip, and this year theyd decided I was. They thought it would be fun for me to visit the farm instead. I couldnt admit the real reason Mom and Dad were sending me to my aunt and uncles farmespecially not to Leila.

Fun? Leila smirked now. Fun the way purgatory is fun.

What am I going to do in small-town Iowa? I hadnt visited my aunt, uncle, and cousins in years, but I remembered the musty smell of the farmhouse, the sour-milk scent of the creamery, and the flat fields of soybeans and corn that stretched for miles. The nearest town was at least a twenty-minute drive away.

I dont know, Leila said. My parents told me we might be passing through Omaha on a family road trip to Colorado this summer, and that was cringe-worthy enough. Iowas way worse. At least your cousins are out there. What do they do for fun?

I shrugged. Last time I visited, I was seven. We played together. You know, swung on the tire swing. Swam in the creek

Omigod. Theres a tire swing? Is there an outdoor spigot, too, with one of those pump handles? Or better yet, an outhouse? She giggled.

Its not like that, I mumbled, my face heating.

Leila snapped her fingers. Wait. Ive got it. You could learn to knit or crochet whatever. And then create your own fashion line. Call it Farm Chic. Or Manure Maven. Even better!

She bent over laughing, and my stomach lurched. Manure Maven? But within seconds, I was laughing alongside Leila, playing it off as a great joke. Leila just had a sharp sense of humor, that was all. And even if her jokes were sometimes interpreted as digs by other kids at school, it hardly mattered. Because everyonewhether they understood her humor or notappreciated her flawless beauty.

It was her amazing confidence that had made me want to be her friend from the moment she walked into the DeWitt Brayburn school six months ago. Id figured it was a long shot; the most popular girls were soon vying for spots at her lunch table. Id never really cared about popularity before. But then Id been assigned as Leilas peer guide for her first few days at our school. I offered her a couple of my tried-and-true fashion tipslike how to pair one of her dads slouchy sweaters with a chic skirtand before I knew it, she was inviting me to join her at lunch.

Its just until she gets to know people, I explained to my friends Devany and Jane, who Id known since kindergarten.

Jane had been skeptical right from the start, as if she knew it was only a matter of time before Id defect to Leilas lunch table for good. Leila just appreciated my fashion experimentations and obsession with Project Runway more than Dev and Jane did. Most mornings she FaceTimed me so I could choose her outfit and accessories for school. So I evolved away from Dev and Jane, or maybe we outgrew each other, until I was hanging out with Leila all the time, and only waving to the two of them when we passed in the hallways. Then the YouTube disaster had struck in May, and Id barely spoken to them since then.