A Good Kind of Trouble

Chapter 2
Triangle Friends
We have a break right after second period, and it’s the first time of the day when I can meet up with Isabella and Julia. When we got our schedules on Maze Day, we couldn’t believe out of six classes we didn’t have one together. How is that even possible? I’m only in pre-algebra, but I’m pretty sure the odds of that have got to be crazy high.
Only getting to see my friends at break and lunch is the worst.
Some people think it’s weird I have two best friends. “But who’s your favorite?” they’ll ask.      Who could pick between pizza and spaghetti? They’re both the best.
We make a great triangle. And three is actually a magic number. I learned that from the Schoolhouse Rock! DVDs.

We are alike in everything that matters. We call ourselves the United Nations, because Isabella is Puerto Rican and Julia is Japanese American, and then there’s me-and yes, we know Black isn’t a nation, but we also know we are united.
We’ve been friends since forever, but super best friends since third grade, when we got partnered for a group project. Each group was assigned a place in the world and then had to give a presentation like we were tour guides. We got Hawaii, and Momma bought fake palm trees and coconuts from Dollar Tree, and Isabella’s mom, who’s a graphic designer, helped us make travel brochures. Isabella painted an amazing poster of a Hawaiian beach at sunset. Julia was really excited because she has a lot of family living in Hawaii. She brought in a whole bunch of shell necklaces and postcards and even a bottle full of sand from a Hawaiian beach.
We’ve been united ever since.
Every day at break, we meet behind the row of extra classrooms next to the multipurpose room. Even though the buildings are called portables, I don’t think they ever get moved once they’re set down.
Isabella is already there, claiming our spot, right under the huge magnolia tree. But there’s no sign of Julia yet. Isabella’s T-shirt is a swirl of peach and rose with a hint of pale blue. It looks like a dawn sky. It is beautiful, and I’m immediately jealous.
“That is the cutest top, Is,” I say. “When did you get it?”
Isabella looks down at herself as if she can’t remember what she’s wearing. “It’s just tie-dye.” She stretches the material out, examining the colors. “I was trying for a sort of ombré thing. It didn’t work exactly.”
“You made it?” I am as close to squealing as I get.