The Big Argument

The Argument

Tess and Mira had been best friends since kindergarten. They sat together at lunch. They played together at recess. They had sleepovers where they stayed up way too late whispering about everything and nothing. They even had a secret handshake that involved two claps, a wiggle, and a very serious salute.

So when they decided to build a fort in Tess's backyard one Saturday afternoon, it should have been the easiest thing in the world.

It was not.

"We should build it by the fence," said Tess, pointing to the far corner of the yard where the old wooden fence met the big oak tree. "It's shady over there, and we can use the fence as one of the walls. That way we only have to build three walls instead of four."

"But the ground is all bumpy over there," said Mira. "And there are roots sticking up everywhere. We should build it in the middle of the yard where it's flat."

"In the middle?" said Tess. "There's no shade in the middle! We'll roast like hot dogs."

"We can put a sheet over the top," said Mira.

"A sheet isn't shade. A sheet is just... a warm hat for a fort."

"A warm hat for a—" Mira put her hands on her hips. "That doesn't even make sense, Tess."

"It makes perfect sense."

They stared at each other.

"Fine," said Mira. "Let's just start and figure it out."

But figuring it out was the problem. Tess dragged the big cardboard box toward the fence. Mira dragged it back toward the middle of the yard. Tess pulled. Mira pulled. The box ripped right down the side.

They both looked at the torn cardboard.

"Great," said Tess.

"That was YOUR fault," said Mira.

"MY fault? You were the one pulling it the wrong way!"

"There IS no wrong way! I was pulling it the RIGHT way!"

Tess felt her face get hot. Not from the sun. From the inside. "You always think your way is the right way."

Mira's eyes went wide. "I do NOT."

"You do! Like when we played restaurant last week, you said we HAD to use the blue plates."

"Because the blue plates looked like REAL restaurant plates!"

"And when we made up that dance, you changed my part without even asking!"

Mira opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. "Well— well, YOU always want to be the one who decides everything first! You already picked where the fort should go before I even said anything!"

"Because it was OBVIOUS!"

"It was NOT obvious! You just decided it was obvious because YOU thought of it!"

Tess felt a stinging in her eyes, which made her even madder because she did NOT want to cry during an argument. She turned around and sat down hard on the back porch steps. Mira sat down on the grass about ten feet away, facing the other direction.

The yard got very quiet.

A bird sang in the oak tree. It sounded way too cheerful.

Tess picked at a splinter on the step. She replayed the argument in her head, practicing all the things she should have said. I'm right. I'm right. I'm definitely right.

But then another thought crept in, small and unwelcome, like a sock sliding down inside your shoe.

The ground by the fence WAS bumpy. She'd tripped on those roots at least twice this summer.

Tess shoved the thought away. But it came back.

Over on the grass, Mira was pulling up tiny clovers, one by one. She was thinking about how Tess always wanted to use the fence for stuff — they'd hung a target on it for their ball-throwing game, and leaned their bikes against it, and now the fort. It was always the fence, the fence, the fence.

But then Mira thought about the shade. She looked at the middle of the yard, where the sun was beating down on the grass so hard it looked almost white. A sheet probably WOULD get hot. She pictured sitting inside a fort that felt like the inside of a warm hat and almost— ALMOST— smiled.

She did not smile. She was still mad.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Tess's mom came to the back door. "Everything okay out here?"

"FINE," said Tess.

"Mm-hm," said her mom, and went back inside.

More minutes. A cloud shaped like a mitten drifted by. Then one shaped like a mitten that had been stretched out. Then just regular clouds.

Tess looked over her shoulder. Mira was braiding three long pieces of grass together. Tess watched her for a moment. Mira's braids were always perfect. Tess could never get the third strand to cooperate.

"I don't ALWAYS think my way is the right way," Mira said quietly, not looking up from her grass braid.

Tess turned around a little more. "Well... I don't always want to decide everything first."

Silence.

"But... sometimes I do," Tess admitted.

Mira looked up. "And sometimes I do think my way is the right way."

They looked at each other. This was the part that was hard — harder than the yelling, actually. The yelling had been easy. This part felt like trying to walk across a balance beam.

"The fence IS a good wall," said Mira. "I actually did think that. I just didn't like that you picked it without asking what I thought."

Tess's stomach unclenched a tiny bit. "The flat ground IS better for sitting. I just didn't want to say that because... then it would seem like your idea was better."

"What if we—" Mira started.

"What?" said Tess.

Mira pointed to the spot where the shade from the oak tree reached across the yard, halfway between the fence and the middle. "What about THERE? It's shady because of the tree, and the ground is pretty flat, and we could still lean one side against the tree trunk."

Tess looked at the spot. It was... actually perfect. How had neither of them seen it before?

She knew how. They'd been too busy holding on tight to their own ideas, like trying to keep a balloon from flying away.

Tess stood up and walked to the spot. She pressed her foot against the ground. Flat. She looked up. Shady. She looked at the thick trunk of the oak tree. Sturdy.

"Yeah," she said. "This is good."

Mira got up and walked over. They stood next to each other, looking at their new fort spot.

"Sorry I said you always think your way is the right way," said Tess.

"Sorry I changed your dance part without asking," said Mira.

"...It actually was better the way you changed it."

"I know," said Mira.

Tess shoved her gently. Mira shoved her back. And then they were both laughing — not big laughing, just the quiet kind that leaks out when you're relieved and a little tired and glad the hard part is over.

They taped the ripped cardboard box back together with the entire roll of tape from the kitchen drawer. They leaned it against the oak tree. They draped an old tablecloth over the top and weighed it down with rocks. It wasn't the best fort in the world. One side sagged. You had to duck VERY low to get through the door. And a beetle had already moved in.

But they sat inside it together, eating apple slices that Tess's mom brought out, and it felt like the best place on earth.

"Next time we argue," said Tess, "let's do it faster. That took the whole afternoon."

"Deal," said Mira.

They did their secret handshake — two claps, a wiggle, and a very serious salute — and then they started planning what color to paint the walls, which they immediately disagreed about, but this time they were both smiling when they did it.