Libby Farthmore sat on the steps leading up to the lobby of her New York City apartment building, enjoying the steady drizzle and endless gray sky. She had a book in her lap, one of the two she was supposed to read over winter break, but, although it was three days into break, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn lay, yet to be opened, on her lap. The rain was just so much more interesting than the too many pages full of boring, repetitive words that lay between the thick, bound covers of a required reading book for the eighth grade. Libby thought the book looked mildly interesting and, though she would never admit it, thought she might have actually read it if it hadn’t been required. What fun was it reading required books?          

“Leebay, you is sure you do not want to come in. Very cold out of side.”          

“I’m fine,” Libby assured László, the kind, gray-haired doorman of her building. László had been the doorman since before Libby could remember. He had moved from Hungary to the New York when he was in his twenties, but still had a thick accent. László was the nicest adult Libby knew. He treated each kid in the building like they were his own.          

Suddenly, Libby heard the intercom buzz and a familiar voice blare out of it from inside the lobby.          “Elizabeth?” it called. “László, is Elizabeth there?”          

“Mo-om,” Libby complained. “I hate it when you call me that!”          

“Yees,” László said cheerfully. “Leebay ees right here, Mees Farthmore.”         

“Libby, you’ve been down there far too long,” Mrs. Farthmore complained. “I don’t want you getting sick. Grandma is coming next week and she’ll want to take you out to museums and such.”          

“But Mom, I like being out here with the rain,” Libby complained. “It helps me, um, get in touch with nature.” “We’re in New York City, Lib,” Libby heard her fifteen-year-old brother, Henry, call. “There is no nature.”          “Leebay, perhaps better go up to apartment now,” László said, smiling. “Would not want to make momma anger. She make deelicious devil’s food cake, no?”          

“Okaay,” Libby agreed reluctantly. “I’ll be right up, Mom,” she said into the intercom.          

“Bye, my Leebay,”  László said, nodding to her and she pressed the button for the twelfth floor.          

“Bye Lás,” Libby said, smiling, as the elevator door opened and she stepped in. “See you in a while.”          “Crocodile,” Libby heard László call as the doors slid shut and she bagan her journey to apartment 12B.            

Kristen Baker picked up the phone in the hallway of her fifteenth floor apartment and dialed her best friend, Libby’s phone number. As she listened to the phone ring in her ears, she wished for the hundredth time that she had a phone in her room, instead of the old, white one in the hall that was nice if you liked twirling your finger around the thick cord but not nice if you wanted some privacy. Usually, Kristen ended up crawling into the hall closet. Luckily, she wasn’t going to be having a top secret conversation. She just needed to ask Libby a quick question. “Hello?” Libby’s mother, Mrs. Farthmore’s voice rang out on the other end. Kristen heard Libby’s five-year-old sister, Jenny, singing in the background.          

“Hi Mrs. Farthmore, could I talk to Libby please?” Kristen asked politely. She had much more phone ettiquite than her twin sister, Sydney, who, when calling her best friend, Alexa, just went, “Is Alexa there?” and sometimes burped loudly.          

“Um, I’m sorry Kristen, Libby isn’t avaliab-” She was interupted by a loud slamming of doors, shuffling of feet, and muffled yelling, before a breathless Libby’s voice came from the other end.          

“I’m here, I’m here,” she gasped for a breath. “Hey, Kris, what’s up?”          

“Hmm…nothing,” Kristen replied, sitting on the cherry wood end table that housed the phone and propping her feet, clad in striped knee socks, against the cream colored wall. “I was just wondering if you wanted to go on a bike ride. Sydney’s at the movies with Alexa, Dad’s at work, and I’m bored.”          

Libby coughed, and it turned into a laugh. “A bike ride? Kristen, it’s pouring! Why don’t we go see a movie like Sydney?”          

“There aren’t any good movies playing,” Kristen explained. “And besides, you love being out in the rain. We could bike to 52nd and Franklin and get hot dogs at Giani’s. He’s better than all the rest.”          

“My mom doesn’t want me being out in the rain,” Libby explained stubbornly. “Besides, I’m a vegetarian.”          Kristen laughed. “Since when, Lib? You had orange chicken at my house last night.”          

“Huh?” Libby asked in mock confusion.          

“The Chinese take-out my dad got us,” Kristen said slowly. “Orange chicken. You ate it.”          

“Oh!” Libby exclaimed. Kristen could practically see her face lighting up. “Oh…right! Haha. Um, uh…that was meat? WHAT?! Since when?”          

“Libby!” Kristen exclaimed in annoyment.          

“Sorry,” Libby giggled. “I just, I dunno. How about we just hang out at your place?”          

“Boring,” Kristen complained.          

“Okay, come over here then,” Libby tried.          

“Fine,” Kristen agreed reluctantly. “But I still think it would be funner to go on a bike ride.”          

“The only reason you want to go on a bike ride is because Blake Huckabee’s house is on the way to Giani’s and you’re hoping maybe he’ll be outside,” Libby informed Kristen.          

Kristen was glad that Libby wasn’t there to see her face turn bright red. “That is so not true. I didn’t even think of that!”          

“Kristen, really,” Libby said. Kristen could picture her rolling her eyes.          

“Well, I’ll be down in a minute, bye!” Kristen said, quickly hanging up. She pulled a faded, Manhattan Volleyball Club sweatshirt over her brightly colored Forever 21 babydoll, dusted off her jean cutoffs, and decided for and then against pulling her new yellow Converse over her striped socks, before locking her front door and padding into the elevator in her sock feet, where she rode down to the twelfth floor and rang the doorbell.          

The door creaked and Kristen heard the sound of the chain lock being undone before Libby’s voice called out, “Jenny, don’t open the door without asking who it is.”          

“Okay,” Jenny’s sweet voice responded. “Who is it?” she squeaked.          

“Me,” Kristen replied, smiling.          

“Oh,” Jenny said, struggling as she pulled the door open. “Libby, it’s okay. It’s only Kristen.”          

“Only Kristen?” Kristen asked, pretending to be deeply hurt. “Only Kristen? What are you talking about, Jenny?” “Sorry Kristen,” Jenny giggled. “You are the most importantest person in my life.”          

“That more like it,” Kristen laughed, scooping Jenny up into a hug.          

Libby rolled her eyes. “You’ve trained her well, Kris,” she said, shaking her head.          

“If you don’t mind,” Jenny said, wiggling out of Kristen’s arms and heading towards the dining room table, where the phone lay silent. “I’m expecting a very important call.”          

“Oh?” Libby asked, tickling her little sister. “From who, may I ask?”          

“Jonathan Hendricks,” Jenny said importantly.          

“A boy?” Kristen teased. “Is he your boyfriend?”          

“Silly,” Jenny giggled, blushing.          

“He is!” Libby exclaimed. “Jonathan and Jenny, sitting in a tree…”          

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Kristen joined in.         

 “Yuck!” Jenny exclaimed. “Yuck, yuck, yuck!”          

“Bye, hon,” Kristen said as she followed Libby to her bedroom. “Have fun with Jonathan.” “Shhh,” Jenny whispered. “Don’t tell. Mommy might be mad.” “Okay,” Kristen whispered back before closing the door to Libby’s bedroom.         
 

Libby had flopped onto her unmade bed. She wore a gray Abercrombie jacket and had changed into pink flannel pajama bottoms. Her dark brown hair hung loosely down her back, and she pushed her overgrown bangs out of her big, blue eyes as she sat up. “So,” she said with a mischievious glint in her eye, as Kristen sank into the purple bean bag chair that was positioned ontop of a heap of clothes in the corner next to Libby’s desk. “Let’s call Blake.” “No!” exclaimed Kristen hurriedly.          

“Why not?” complained Libby. “It’ll be fun.”          

“Nooo,” whined Kristen as Libby reached for her rhinestone encrusted cell phone. Suddenly, the phone rang, blaring No Air by Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown.          

“Saved by the bell,” Kristen muttered with a small laugh.          

“Hello?” Libby said cheerfully, turning the phone on speakerphone.          

“Heey,” said a familiar voice. Kristen rolled her eyes and Libby frowned at her.          

“Hi Frankie,” she said, twriling a lock of hair around her chipped, navy colored fingernails. “What’s up?”          “Nothing much,” Frankie responded. Libby disregarded Kristen, who was making barfing noises, and turned the phone off speakerphone to finish the conversation.          

“I was thinking maybe we could go to mall later,” Frankie continued. “To see a movie or something. That new one that just came out yesterday. It looks good.” Libby laughed, thinking about Kristen’s earlier comment, that there were ‘no good movies playing.’          

“Sure, Frankie,” Libby agreed. “I’ll call you in a bit and we can figure it out, okay?”          

“Great,” Frankie finished. “I’ll talk to you later, Libby. I’ll get the showtimes off the Internet, so call me.”          “Kay,” Libby agreed. “Bye.”          

“Bye,” Frankie said before hanging up.          

“Ugh,” Kristen said the moment Libby put the phone down. “How can you be friends with her? She so, so…arh!” “Kristen, the only reason you don’t like her is because she’s going out with Blake,” Libby exclaimed in frustration. “You don’t even know her!”          

“Well, maybe I don’t need to,” Kristen retorted. “Maybe I can tell just from looking that she’s a rotten, no-good-” “KRISTEN!” Libby cried.          

“Sorry,” Kristen mumbled. “But it’s true.,” she added more quietly.          

Libby’s heart sped up. “Look, Kris, I’m not going to just sit here and let you insult my friend-”          

“Friend?” roared Kristen. “Friend? Frankie isn’t your friend, Libby. She’s just using you to get to Clifton. She wants to steal him away from you and two-time Blake. And everyone knows it but you!”          

“That isn’t true!” Libby was on the verge of tears. “I can’t believe you’d say that, Kristen!”          

“Oh, so now you’re believing Frankie over me?” Kristen exploded. “Frankie, who you’ve known since what? September. Over me, who you’ve known your whole life.”          

“Look, Kris, just because you’re jealous of me and Frankie being friends-”          

“Jealous? So now you’re putting words in my mouth. Who said I was jealous?”          

“Kristen, it’s kind of obvious.”          

“Just because I think-no I know Frankie is using you, doesn’t make me jealous of her. Why would I be jealous of her?”          

“You know what, Kristen, why are we even discussing this?”          

“I don’t know, why are we?”          

“I don’t know!”          

“Well, NEITHER DO I!”          

“FINE!”          

“FINE!”          

“I have things to do, anyway.”          

“Right with Frankie, your new best friend.”          

“Just leave me alone, Kristen.”          

“I will!”          

“Good!”          

“Bye.”          

“Hmph.”          

Libby flopped back onto her bed and watched Kristen slam the door and stop down the hall before going out the front door. What was Kristen’s problem anyway? Making all these accusations and saying such mean things about Frankie. It was clear she was just jealous anyhow. Libby pulled out the latest Teen Vogue and began to flip through it as she waited for Kristen to call and beg for forgiveness. But the next time Libby’s phone rang, it was Frankie, calling with movie times. The two girls agreed to meet at the theater in two hours, when the movie started. And when Libby left for the movie, Kristen still had yet to call.                     

Frankie Sosa sat silently on a vacated bench outside the AMC movie theater at the mall. She pulled out her scratched Verizon Wireless enV, a hand-me-down from her sixteen-year-old sister, Lucy, who went through phones as quickly as Frankie went through shoes, and pretended to text someone, a helpful tactic to avoid looking like a loser when you were alone.          

“Hey,” said a voice. A male voice. Frankie looked up. Clifton Reed stood there, decked out in a striped Hollister polo and just-baggy-enough faded jeans. He smiled shyly at Frankie, his newly, free of braces teeth shining. His warm brown eyes gleamed at her. She loved the way his messy brown locks fell into his eyes, causing him to shake his head like an overgrown puppy.          

“Hi Clifton,” Frankie said, smiling and blushing slightly. She concentrated on meeting his gaze but found she could not.          

“So, what’s up,” Clifton said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight. “Are you waiting for someone? I’m here alone.”          

Say you’re here alone, Frankie commanded herself. Say you’re here alone and maybe you can go see a movie together. But she would never do that to Libby. “I’m, ah, waiting for someone,” Frankie said, her voice cracking.   “Oh?” Clifton raised his eyebrows. Frankie was delighted that he sounded a little dissapointed. “Anyone I know?” he continued.          

“Um,” Frankie delayed her response. She racked her brain on something to say. She couldn’t exactly lie-Libby would be here any minute. “Yeah. Libby.”          

“Oh,” Clifton said. His face seemed to glow at the sound of her name. Frankie sunk down in her seat. How could she have ever thought that Clifton was even a little bit into her. It was obvious he was all about Libby. And she’d just have to live with that. She had Blake, after all. Even if he was “just a friend” to her. 

(dont worry i am adding more to this story right now and i'll post more soon)