Monsters and Me

We are sitting at lunch when Gracie jingles the charm on her new bracelet. Which is totally not a big deal. Except then Loralie and Saleen and Abigail do the same. They catch each other’s eyes and laugh. 

I smile because I’m supposed to. It’s not like they’re bragging about having matching bracelets, which their dance coach bought them to celebrate their big win at their latest competition. They’re just being silly. Having fun. Still, I drop my eyes to my lap. 

“What’s wrong, Bailey?” asks Gracie, sounding concerned.

I shake my head. My chin is suddenly trembling, making words impossible. 

Gracie squints at me and her face turns hard, like she just remembered something unpleasant. “Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?” she asks.

The cafeteria is at full roar, so everyone else might miss the sharp tinge to her words. But Gracie and I have been best friends since kindergarten. I know her. I guess that’s all over now. 

The bell rings, but I don’t move. I am trapped in a Gracie-style stare down. “I’m just jealous of your bracelets,” I murmur. “That’s all.” 

“Well, you’re the one who quit dance,” says Gracie as she scoots her chair back from the table.

True, I think. But you’re the one who quit our friendship. 

That night, Parker cracks spaghetti over a pot of bubbling water. Mom and Dad are both working late. I love having quiet nights with my older sister. Especially now, when my thoughts are loud enough to fill the entire house.

As Parker scrolls on her phone, I unspool some neon-pink yarn. I am almost done crocheting my newest little monster. She is supercute, with stubby legs and a single oversized bright-blue eye in the center of her belly. I am about to start on her second horn when Parker sits down beside me. 

“What did Gracie do this time?” she asks, sighing.

My fingers freeze mid-stitch. I often space out when I crochet. I get lost in the rhythm of wrapping and twisting yarn, then counting stitches. 

Did I mumble Gracie’s name without realizing it?

“How did you know?” 

“The sad, droopy look on your face. Gracie tends to bring that out in you these days.”

I plunge my crochet hook straight into my monster’s belly. If Mom and Dad were here, with their gasps of concern and deep looks of worry, I might keep what happened to myself. But Parker is chill. I tell her everything. 

The next morning, I sleep through my alarm. I don’t have time to check Beasts by Bailey before school, so I am confused when Mason claps as I walk past him in the hallway.

“Nailed it,” he says.

“Watch out,” says his friend. “She’s crafty.”

I keep walking, confused. It’s when I hear “There’s Bullying by Bailey” that I finally understand. My online store finally got attention. But I’m not known for selling monsters. I’m known for being a monster.

I duck into the nearest bathroom, tears threatening to burst. A glance in the mirror confirms that my newest monster is not the only one with bloodshot eyes. And a hiccuping gulp from behind a stall door makes it equally clear that I’m not the only one in this bathroom. I spot Gracie’s sneakers underneath the door.

“Gracie?” I ask. “Is that you?” 

“Go away.”

Sure thing, I think. 

But as much as I want to run—no, sprint—away, avoiding Gracie is what got me into this mess. 

“I’m really sorry,” I say. “I messed up. But ever since I stopped dance, you’ve been kind of mean. It feels like you don’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“So? That makes me a monster?”

“No. But it . . . it makes me really sad.” The truth leaves me deflated, like a crochet monster with no stuffing. 

Slowly, the stall door opens. “It makes me sad too,” says Gracie. “You just dropped dance. You never even told me why.”

“It had nothing to do with you,” I explain. “It just wasn’t my thing. I only did it for so long so we could spend time together.”

Gracie nods. “Yeah, it takes up so much time! If I didn’t love it, like deep inside, I’d probably quit too.”

“I’ll take the monster off the store the second I get home,” I say. “I promise.”

“Thanks.” A hint of a smile spreads across her face. “By the way, I think your monsters are really cute. The other ones, I mean.”

“If you ever want me to teach you how to make one, you could come over sometime.”

Gracie nods, a stray tear falling down her cheek. “I’d probably be terrible at it.”

I hand her a paper towel as I say, “The good thing about crochet is you can always take your stitches out and start again.”