I swung myself into my chair and waved to my friend Zara. My other friend, Isabelle, plopped into the seat next to me and made a point of not saying hello to Zara. I rolled my eyes, wondering what it was with those two. Isabelle, Zara, and I used to be friends, but last year, back in fourth grade, Isabelle and Zara had fought so bad that they hadn’t spoken to each other since. Well, except when they needed to.

I snapped out of my reverie when Zara turned in her seat and asked me if I wanted to go to the science museum with her on Saturday, ignoring Isabelle. I shrugged and busied myself with tidying my desk, not wanting to leave Isabelle out.

At lunch I sat down in my usual spot. It was Tuesday, so Isabelle sat down next to me. We were in the middle of a discussion about the soccer game we had played in on the weekend, when Zara stalked past, smiling at me and glaring at Isabelle. I sat up straighter. I had let this go too far.

After school, I asked Isabelle to wait on the field in front of the school, then went to get Zara. I sat them both down on the grass and said, “Spill.”

“About what?” asked Zara, unconvincingly.

“You know,” I replied. “About why you two argue.”

“You,” mumbled Isabelle, not meeting my eyes. “We both wanted to be your best friend and we were arguing about who got to spend more time with you.”

I blinked, shocked. Then I pulled myself together. “Alright, shake hands.”

“Wait, what?” they said in unison.

“You know, the thing where you put out your hand and—”

“Yes, we get it,” interrupted Isabelle, reluctantly putting out her hand. Zara took it, and they shook.

We looked at each other for a moment, then fell over laughing, glad the conflict was over.