Chapter Text
Mel is mad.
“Alright everyone,” Mrs. Wilson announces, “today’s a special day!”
Really mad.
“It’s two of our classmates' birthdays today!”
Mel’s classmates clap, and at the desk behind her, Frank cheers and kicks her chair.
“Ow!”
“Let’s sing Frank and Mel happy birthday!”
Mel frowns as the class sings. It’s her birthday, she’s turning eight! Why does she have to share her birthday with a boy? Especially a boy who kicks her chair and pulls her braid and cheats off her tests.
“Wonderful, class,” Mrs. Wilson says when they finish singing. “Make sure you wish Frank and Mel a happy birthday today!”
Mel’s mad the whole rest of the day. Through recess and lunch and even through the spelling test later that day. And Mel loves spelling tests. She got to spell confetti today and she’s still not happy.
She’s still mad when Frank catches her after school.
“Hey, Mel!” he calls, his backpack swung low on one shoulder as he walks towards her. “I can’t believe we share a birthday that’s so cool.”
“Hmm,” Mel pouts. She doesn’t think it’s cool at all.
“What, you don’t wanna talk to me?” he jokes, arriving next to her.
“Why would I talk to you?” Mel spits out.”We’re not friends.”
Frank frowns. “I thought we were friends?”
“Why would we be friends?” she asks, tightening the straps on her backpack so it sits higher on her shoulders.
“I dunno,” he shrugs.
“My friends don’t kick my chair,” Mel says. “My friends don’t tug on my braid and my friends don’t use me to cheat on tests.”
“You saw that?” he winces.
“Everybody saw that, Frank.” Mel crosses her arms over her chest. “Just because we turned eight on the same day doesn’t mean anything.”
“Well okay.”
A few seconds go by, and Mel wishes her mom would hurry. She doesn’t like Frank, she doesn’t want to be his friend, she doesn’t—
“What if I want to be your friend?”
Mel frowns and looks at Frank. “Then you should ask,” she says. “And stop pulling on my hair. And kicking my chair.”
Frank kicks the ground as he thinks. “Can I still cheat off your tests?”
“No.”
“Hmm.”
A few more seconds goes by. Mel doesn’t know what Frank’s doing. Why does he want to be her friend anyway? It’s not like they play together.
“Then Mel, I would like to be your friend.”
“What?” Mel yells. “Why?”
“Cause you’re nice,” Frank shrugs. “And you’re smart. And I like you.”
“Well I don’t like you.”
Frank takes off his backpack and opens it up. After a second, he pulls out a fruit roll-up and holds it out to her.
“What about now?”
Mel looks at him. She doesn’t like him really, he’s a boy, but she does want a fruit roll-up.
“Fine,” she says, taking the treat from his hands. “And you’ll stop tugging my braid?”
“I’ll stop tugging your braid,” he repeats, nodding his head.
“Then yeah, let’s be friends.”