Almost Identical #1 by Lin Oliver Page A

whooshed open.
    â€œI have to go, Sammie,” she said quietly. “And you know what? I was wrong about you. I thought you were nice. I thought we could be friends. But I don’t want to be friends with someone who doesn’t think I’m good enough for her.”
    â€œAlicia, wait—”
    â€œYou’d better go,” she said as the door shut. “Your
real
friends are waiting.”
    Alicia disappeared onto the bus, and as I turned around, I saw Lauren running up. She was waving a Starbucks card at me.
    â€œI still have money left on my gift card,” she said. “Come on. Frappuccino’s on me.”
    I wasn’t thirsty. In fact, I wanted to barf.

The Apology
    Chapter 9
    The next morning, I was waiting at the bus stop at seven thirty, but Alicia wasn’t on the seven-thirty bus. She wasn’t on the seven forty-five bus, either. I had hoped to catch her before school—to talk to her, to explain the truth behind what had happened. I had tried calling her the night before, but when her father, Candido, answered, he said she wasn’t feeling well and had gone to bed. I figured she must have really been sick because Alicia wasn’t on the eight o’clock bus, either.
    In homeroom, I asked Sara if she had talked to Alicia.
    â€œYeah, we talked on the phone a lot last night,” she said.
    â€œAbout me?”
    â€œAbout friends. You tell me, Sammie. Are you her friend?”
    â€œI want to be.”
    â€œThen I have a suggestion for you,” Sara said. “Try acting like one.”
    Wow. That was harsh. These Truth Tellers don’t mess around.
    I went through the day at school feeling lousy. You know how when you’re mad at yourself, everything seems to go wrong? Well, that’s how the whole day went. My bra strap broke after PE, and I had to hold it together with this huge, old safety pin which came undone in the middle of Spanish. I got back my history test, and I missed getting a B by half a point because I said the king of England during the American Revolution was George II. (Big deal, so it was George III. That’s close enough for me.) And at lunch, Charlie talked to Jared the whole time and left me sitting at the table listening to Jillian’s in-depth discussion of whether Ashley on
Real Teens
looked better as a blonde or a brunette. (Oh, and in case you’re dying to know, brunette won.) Going into English, I dropped my backpack, which was unzipped, and all my pens fell out on the floor. Bernard of the drumsticks didn’t even stop to help me pick them up. Sure, it was possible that he just didn’t see them. But it was also possible that all the Truth Tellers were sticking up for Alicia and thought I deserved to get all my ballpoints trampled.
    After school, Charlie was waiting for me at my locker.
    â€œI’m not going home right away,” I told her. “There’s something I have to do.”
    â€œDad’s waiting for us. We have practice.”
    â€œI have to skip today.”
    â€œSammie, we have a tournament this Sunday. Dad will freak out if you’re not there.”
    â€œCan you cover for me, just this once?” I begged. “I’ll let you borrow any of my clothes you want.”
    â€œI do that, anyway,” she pointed out.
    â€œPlease, Charlie. This is important.”
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œTo Alicia’s.”
    â€œYou don’t even know where she lives.”
    â€œI got her address from Sara. Tell Dad I’ll be home by six. And I’ll practice like a lunatic the rest of the week, I swear.”
    I think Charlie would have continued arguing with me, but just then, Lauren came up and asked her if she wanted to go to the gym with her to sign up for cheerleader tryouts.
    â€œOf course I do,” Charlie said, a big smile breaking across her face. “But afterward, I have to go to the club to practice.”
    â€œPerfect,”