Gina finally wears me down—she has no idea that I'm still a little bothered that she joined theater and Layla's group without talking to me about any of it—so I meet her Sunday for lunch at the mall. Mom needs to get some new sweaters she said, so I keep my cell phone handy and agree with text her if Gina and I leave the food court at all.

We meet inside the entrance to the food court, where the mall sign reads, "Welcome to Riverside Mall."

"Remember to text me if you leave this area," Mom reminds me. "Hi Gina."

"Hey there Miss M," Gina replies, but Mom doesn't wait long enough to really hear her before she's on her way to whatever sweater stores she's planning to visit.

Gina looks back at me and sort of breathes into a smile. "So... Sbarro?"

"Sure," I say. It's one of the few places in this food court that has any vegetarian options. I order a huge slice of plain cheese and Gina orders her usual huge slice of supreme.

Once we have our food, I follow Gina's mermaid green hair, pulled out of her face with a long purple sash. She picks a table and plops her tray down, so I do the same.

"Are you getting a drink?" she asks, sitting down in the chair that faces the entrance. She has this weird thing where she only sits in the spot where she can see people entering and exiting the room. After all these years, I still don't know if it's a curiosity thing, an insecurity thing, or a power thing.

"Yeah," I say. She doesn't stand up to join me, but I'm still standing; so I offer, "Want me to get you something?"

"Oh, thanks, yeah," she says, pushing her cup across the table towards me. She picks up her phone from the table and starts scrolling through some app. Probably Instagram. She's obsessed. My suspicions are confirmed when she takes a picture of her pizza. Nothing is real unless it's on the internet, right?

She can't even see my subtle eye roll as I grab our cups and head over to the drink station.

"Coke Zero," she calls after me.

"Okay," I say.

I don't want to make a big deal of it, especially not in public, but I'm not happy. Why am I always the one who has to do things? With Gina, it's always been the same. I am always the one who has to do the work. It's always my house that we have to hang out at. It's always me that has to do her favors. It's always me who has to change her schedule to accommodate for Gina, and the second it's inconvenient for me, she's mad I couldn't completely rearrange my life around her. I'm so sick of it.

A voice in my head, the voice that remembers how long Gina and I have been friends and how much we've been through together, asks, "But isn't that what she tried to fix by joining theater?"

I fill her cup and decide to give her a chance to make up for it, but I'm still not going to let all of this slide.

"Dylan already liked my photo," she says when I sit down. She's still fixed on her phone. I set her drink down in front of her, and she immediately lifts it to take a sip. "When is he going to accept that we're over?" she asks herself? Me? Her phone? I don't know. "I bet he wants to ask me to the Snow Ball. I wouldn't be surprised if he shows up now that he knows I'm here."

"So, what did you want to talk about today?"

She sets her phone down and looks up at me with raised eye brows. "I just wanted to hang out. I haven't seen you in forever."

I fake a laugh. "We hung out last weekend."

"Yeah, but that was a whole week ago. We don't go a whole week without hanging out. I was so pumped to be in your theater class now, and it feels like... I don't know, like you weren't happy to see me there?"

I adjust in my seat. I've got to be honest with her. "I wish you would have told me you were coming in."

"So you weren't happy? Wow, Janie. What the hell?"

"Gina, stop, it's not like that."

"No, it is. I completely changed my schedule to finally have a class with you, like we talked about last quarter."

"You changed your elective."

"That should have been enough for you. That's enough of a hassle to begin with. I have no idea what's going on in theater. You guys are all performing your little scenes this week, and I'll just be sitting there doing nothing. That's not what I want to do."

"I mean, you wanted a blow off class."

She sits back in her seat and glares at me for a few seconds. "Are you just, like, finding new friends now and you don't need me?"

"No, that's not it. It's just that Patti and Layla are competing for this one script, and when I came in, my group was so happy, because that meant they could use it. But now that you're in the class, Layla could take it. It's stressing my group out."

I hear what Gina's argument is going to be, even before she says it.

"Let me get this straight." Oh boy. "You are mad at me, because my presence in your new class is making your new friends upset. So they're emotions are more important than mine, even though you've known me since you were little and have only known them for a few weeks. It's all this new guy, isn't it? It's all about that tall, slender man looking weirdo Thatcher, isn't it?"

The people around us are either blatantly watching us or peeking over at us every now and then. The slender man comment makes one younger boy chuckle to himself. It's embarrassing—not just because Gina is raising her voice at me in public, but because I value her opinion, and now I know just how ugly she sees Thatcher. I always saw that he had an unconventional look with his height, I always saw that he was sort of plain, but now that I've gotten to know him, I've seen a sweetness in his appearance. He is comforting and warm and kind, and all those qualities come out in his smile. When I look at him, I can't see the person I used to see. Now I see his whole self.

But Gina sees what everyone else still sees.

Should I be embarrassed that I like him?

"Keep it down," I whisper.

"No, you know what?" she starts, standing from her seat. "Layla did approach me, and I agreed to be in their group once the stupid ten-minute scenes are done. I was going to ask you what you thought about that and give you a chance to add me to your group, but now I won't. You only have yourself to blame for any 'stress' your group feels about me, which makes sense, because none of this would have ever been an issue if you had just stayed in sewing with me."

My cheeks heat with embarrassment, and tears boil up in my eyes. Gina grabs her coat and purse, leaving her entire tray on the table.

"Be ready to find a different play or whatever for your group, because now that I'm in Layla's group, I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure we get it. Whatever it is. In the meantime, you can feel free to find a way to apologize to me."

She swings her coat onto her shoulders and storms out of the food court. She can't drive yet either, so she heads toward the shops, probably to angrily buy new accessories while she waits for one of her parents to come. Either way, she leaves me alone, crying, and humiliated in the middle of the food court.

The kid who snickered at the slender man comment earlier avoids my eye contact at all costs. I take a few pathetic bites of pizza to try to distract myself, but Gina really hurt my feelings. Like, deep down, not sure where to go next with our friendship kind of hurt.

What hurts more, though, is the sneaking suspicion that she's right. Is this all my fault? Would Patti have her prized scene if I had just never been placed into theater? I know that it's a good thing my dyslexia was diagnosed, but... could I have just tried harder and not been pulled out of sewing and just continued my existence as it was?

I take out my phone and text my mom. "I'm ready to go now."

Three little dots show up on the screen, and then: "Already? I barely tried anything on. Do you and Gina want to hang out and shop?"

"No. She's mad at me. She ran off."

"She left you alone??"

"Yeah."

My mom sends the angry face emoji. "I'm on my way. Just have to pay. DO NOT MOVE."

"I won't. Sorry."

"Not your fault." Then she sends another angry face emoji. My mom has never liked Gina much, because she's always seen how pushy she can be. This will not help Gina's case with Mom if we ever make up.

I wipe my eyes and open my messenger app. I click on my handsome slender man, and type.

"My friend Gina just declared war. She's with Layla's group and they're out for the one act."

I don't mention any of the other things Gina said.

The little blue check mark is replaced by his weird profile picture, which I now know is from Starship Troopers. I see that he's typing a response.

"Tell her to bring it on," he writes.

I smile. I'm not excited to see Gina tomorrow in theater, or to perform the ten-minute scene in front of everyone, but I am excited to see Thatcher, no matter what anyone else thinks about that.

  ☆ ☆☆ Author's Note☆☆☆ 

So, what do you think? Who was in the wrong here? Gina or Janie?

I can see the points in both arguments, but I feel like both girls handled it poorly. What are your thoughts on this fight?

Let me know in the comments, and let me know what you think of the story so far, too!