Best Friends...Forever? Read Online Free Page A

all. Go sit."
    We sat in the bright yellow dining room. Grandma had ham, sausage, mashed potatoes, rolls, cucumber salad, regular salad, some weird-looking dish with beets in it, scalloped potatoes, and rye bread on the table. Now that was what I called "yummers town."
    "Oh, it smells amazing," Dad said, taking some sausage.
    We filled our plates, and for every spoonful I took, Grandma somehow managed to sneak an extra helping onto my plate. Everything tasted delicious. The potatoes were so creamy and had this amazing savory flavor to them. She would never tell us what any of her "secret ingredients" were, but man, nothing tasted like my grandma's mashed potatoes. I felt like I was going to explode when I was done.
    "Ready for dessert?" Grandma asked.
    "Can we have a breather first, Ma?" Mom asked.
    "Okay, well, I'll clear the table."
    Grandpa started to get up to help, but I said I'd do it. I followed Grandma into the kitchen while my parents and he talked about the weather.
    "Glad to see you still have your appetite," Grandma said. "I worry about you modeling."
    I shrugged. "I don't work much," I said.
    She asked how school was, and I told her what she wanted to hear. "Um, Grandma? Do you still make potato pancakes?"
    "I sure do. We had some the other night. I have leftovers. Do you want some?"
    If I hadn't been about to burst, I probably would have said yes.
    "Maybe later, but…are they hard to make?"
    "For your mother, apparently," she said. "Well, you have to grate the potato, and I don't want you to scrape your hand off, but I might be able to teach you an easier way to make them. Maybe next time you visit?"
    I nodded.
    "Missing my cooking?"
    "Yeah, and this…friend of mine loves them," I said.
    "Friend? As in a boy ?"
    How did she know that? I nodded.
    "Well, maybe next time we'll work on those, but you spend more time on your studies and less time on the boys, okay?" she said. Did all grandmothers have a thing about not wanting their granddaughters to date?
    After dessert, we opened presents. I only had one thing to unwrap. Grandma told me she got me money and a gift card so we wouldn't have to struggle with a lot of extra stuff on the train ride home. I was excited; the gift card was for a bookstore. That gave me fifty dollars to spend on books. The present was a blue school sweater. I didn't like being reminded of school, but at least it was a pretty light shade of blue, considering that my Hillcrest school uniform colors made me look like a dead goldfish on a good day.
    We watched a Christmas movie, and I talked to Grandpa about school. Dad said we had to head back, but I wanted to stay. Mom said next time we came to town, we could make it a longer visit. She had a project at work, which meant we couldn't spend as much time in Chicago this holiday. I bit my lip wondering if that "project" had anything to do with the possible move she was telling me about on the train. We couldn't move with things finally feeling settled for me — well, more settled anyway — at school with my friends. Plus I had modeling work in Grand Rapids, and there was Vladi, too. I finally felt like I belonged, and she wanted me to leave all that behind?
    I didn't say much on the ride back to the apartment.
    Mom touched my shoulder. "I know you wanted to stay, but next time. Promise."
    I shrugged. "You always say, 'next time.' It seems like we're always rushing home or Dad's rushing back here."
    "I know, but we have to leave tomorrow, and I want to make sure we have plenty of time to get ready."
    "I hardly got to see the downtown all decorated for Christmas," I said.
    "We did cut it short yesterday," Dad said.
    Mom glanced at her watch. "I guess there's still time for us to hit a store if you want to see how Maxie's decorated the tree this year…"
    "Yes! I heard this year it's a toy theme," I said.
    We headed to Maxie's department store, but everyone in all of Illinois had the same idea. There was a group of people pushing