Be Real, Macy Weaver: Chapters 1–12

It wasn’t easy dodging through fifth graders in short-sleeved tees, high-top fades, and dingy house-key necklaces, but Macy made it work.

Macy’s anxious feelings usually made her shrink down further—and shy away more—until weeks, and months, and whole school years went by without finding that one kid to get close to.

Whenever they walked together, Macy galloped a bit, to prove how much she, too, was obsessed with horses.

Twice, she thought she might throw up listening to all that harmonious giggling over silly jokes ahead of her.

She slid off her shoes, leaving them on the floor of the foyer so that she could step onto the plushy cream living room carpet without her mom screwing her face up or pulling out her phone to calculate out loud how much steam cleaning the carpet would cost if she tracked in the slightest bit of outside dirt.

She uploaded the picture to InstaSlam and captioned it: “It is with a heavy heart that I announce the friendship breakup of Josie Miller and Macy Weaver. The split was amicable. Please respect our privacy at this time.”

There were no broken hearts or captions of loss and regret.
Instead, something much more devastating caught Macy’s eye.

A new bio splashed across Josie’s profile in a swirly custom font: The Three Js: Josie, Jalaya, and Jazmin. BFFs FOREVA!

And then there was a new photo...a wide-angle shot of the three friends practically sitting on top of each other, laughing hysterically and eating spoonfuls of frozen yogurt with gummy-bear toppings at the sweetFrog down at the Towne Center.

Macy didn’t know if she necessarily thought South Carolina was boring.

User Not Found flashed under a profile box showcasing a lifeless gray avatar.

The next morning was the official first day of summer vacation. Freedom was in the air. Dirty sneakers with frayed laces. Cutoffs. Accidental Popsicle stains on skin.

He walked into the kitchen, wiped his brow, and said, “Turkey sandwiches—for dinner?”
Mom glared at him and shoved a paper plate into his hands. “You could eat nothing at all.”

Mom beckoned for Macy and her dad to grab their plates and follow her into the living room.

Macy bristled at the word friends.

But—but—there’s a big difference between attending a college anyone can get into, and going away to a big, prestigious college like University of Maryland.

Macy rarely heard her father yell—usually her parents kept their bickering at a lukewarm temperature.

Her dad’s SUV suddenly lurched forward, sending Macy’s sip of juice down the wrong pipe.

A college campus isn’t exactly appropriate for an eleven-year-old anyway.

“Ugh. This place is ugly,” she said, making Macy sorry she’d griped about the size of the apartment.

Macy grabbed the rickety machine with both arms and lugged it into the living room.

“Is that a vintage Singer you have in your arms? Ooo-wee, had one like it myself back in the day.”

But now the moment was here—the first time her mom would be gone for more than an overnight trip—and the reality of having a gap where a mother should be jolted Macy in a way she hadn’t expected.

Ms. Levi sauntered over to the tree and wrapped her arms around the trunk.

While Macy’s classmates stepped closer to the tree, checking out its pointy leaves, rough bark, and gnarly roots growing out the ground, she hung back—thinking of all the words she would have to learn to truly fit in here.

Nothing else is quite like this mighty plant. It is living, breathing, and separated from the normal. It is not expected. This tree is the true definition of an anomaly.

Each curl on the nape of her neck had been clearly brushed to perfection, except for two purple curls that had managed to wrangle themselves free.

Reluctantly, the rest of their classmates paired off.

“The plaintiff’s sweater checks out—it’s real cashmere for sure.”

Macy’s hands went clammy as she pushed the orangey-pink sleeve back on her arm, past her elbow.

“Well—if you ever change your mind—I’m available, pro bono.”
Brynn raised an eyebrow at her friend. “You’ve never offered me any pro bono services.”
Grace shrugged. “We’re besties. Everything’s pro bono for you.”

Brynn looked wistfully at Macy’s sweater. “I would wear cashmere big or small.”

But Grace looked skeptical. “Are you kidding right now? Like, is this some sort of prank?”

Macy tried her best to look humble. She had to play this right. “It’s true—honest. How do you think I can afford designer clothes and trips around the world?”

Macy watched Grace mull over her answer.