I've been Chloe's best friend since third grade, so I think I know her better than anyone. That's why I knew something was wrong the moment she started hanging out with Madison.
Madison is one of those people who's nice to your face but talks about you the second you leave. I've seen her do it. Well, I haven't actually SEEN her do it to Chloe, but I know she does it to everyone, so why would Chloe be different?
When I tried to warn Chloe, she got annoyed. "You don't even know Madison," she said. "You've never had a real conversation with her."
That's not the point. I can tell what kind of person someone is. It's like a sixth sense. And Madison gives me a bad feeling. Chloe used to trust my instincts, but lately she's been different. More secretive. She and Madison have these inside jokes I don't understand.
Last week, I overheard Madison tell Chloe she should try out for the volleyball team. That's MY sport. Chloe's never been interested in volleyball. Now suddenly she wants to try out? It's obvious Madison is trying to take her away from me.
I confronted Chloe after school. "You're choosing Madison over me," I said. She looked at me like I was crazy. "I'm not choosing anyone," she said. "I just want to try something new. I can have more than one friend."
That's exactly what someone would say when they're about to ditch their real best friend. I know Chloe. Better than she knows herself, sometimes.
The hiring manager's office smelled like coffee and decisions. At seventeen, Marcus had never done a real job interview before, but he'd practiced his answers until they were perfect. He sat up straight, made eye contact, and smiled - just like the videos said.
"Tell me about yourself," Ms. Chen said.
Marcus launched into his prepared response about responsibility and work ethic. Halfway through, he noticed Ms. Chen's eyes drift to her computer screen. She's checking her email, he realized. I'm boring her.
He stumbled over his next words. Her face remained neutral - was that good or bad? He couldn't tell. When she asked about his weaknesses, he gave the answer he'd read online: "I'm a perfectionist." She wrote something down. What was she writing? He tried to read her expression, but she was impossible to decode.
After fifteen minutes that felt like hours, Ms. Chen stood. "Thank you for coming in, Marcus. We'll be in touch."
That was it? No feedback, no indication either way? As he walked to his car, Marcus replayed every moment. The email glance - she was already rejecting him. The neutral expression - she thought he was unremarkable. The quick ending - she couldn't wait to get rid of him.
He texted his mom: "Bombed it. She hated me."
Three days later, the phone rang. "Marcus? This is Ms. Chen. I'd like to offer you the position. I was impressed by your poise and preparation."
Evan's Account:
The championship game came down to the final play. I had the ball. The defender was in my face, but I saw the opening. I took the shot - nothing but net. The crowd exploded. My teammates rushed the court. I had won us the game.
Coach pulled me aside afterward. "Nice shot, but remember - there's no 'I' in team." I nodded, but honestly? Without my shot, there was no trophy. Sometimes one player makes the difference.
Mia's Account (Evan's teammate):
Everyone remembers Evan's final shot, but they forget what made it possible. There were four seconds left. I set the screen that freed Evan from his defender. Jordan made the inbound pass that got him the ball. DeShawn had fouled out keeping us in the game earlier.
Evan took the shot. Evan got the interviews. But twenty plays led to that moment, and Evan made one of them.
I don't blame him for enjoying the attention. I just wish someone would notice that basketball isn't played by individuals. It's played by teams.