Lily is my best friend, and we ALWAYS share EVERYTHING.  

Until today, when Lily showed up in Mrs. Finkie’s class with a box of twenty-four, of the pointiest, prettiest, most pristine crayons.  

“Wow,” I said.

Lily beamed a smile almost as dazzling as the crayons. “Aren’t they beautiful?” 

“Ohhh yes,” I said, my head filling with colorful possibilities. “What are you going to draw?” I asked, my fingers twitching. “I think I’ll draw...”

SNAP. Lily shut the lid of the crayon box. 

SWOOSH. She swooped the box into her lap. “I don’t think I’ll share THESE crayons.” She looked to the front of the classroom. “Mrs. Finkie has bins of crayons YOU can use.”

My heart sank. The crayons in the bins weren’t pointy or pristine. They were broken and dull. I thought I might cry. But then I got mad. “But we ALWAYS share EVERYTHING!” I reminded her.

“Not everything,” Lily said. “Not always.”

“Yes, we do. We’re best friends.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I dare you to name something that we don’t share.”

Lily put a finger to her chin and tapped. 

I could see her brain whirring. But I knew I had her. Because we always share everything.

She pressed her lips tight. “Hmm.” Then her eyes got wide. “There IS something we don’t share.”

“Impossible,” I said.

Lily sat up straight.  “Gum.”

I frowned. “Gum? But I gave you a zesty, minty stick from my new pack yesterday.”

Lily leaned closer. “Yes, but we don’t share gum that we’ve already chewed.” 

I wrinkled my nose. 

“And, we don’t share drinks we’ve already sipped.”

I bit my lip.

“We don’t share a toothbrush at a sleepover,” Lily said. “And ever since Cody got lice, we don’t share hats or helmets.”

I drooped. 

“Also, we’ve never, ever shared our baby brothers.”

I slumped. “You’re right,” I admitted. “We don’t always share everything.”

Lily smiled triumphantly and slapped her crayons back on the desk. 

“So...” I said, reaching into my lap. “I guess I don’t have to share the last two sheets of glitter paper.”

Lily stared at the sparkly paper. She fingered her pointiest crayons. Then she flung her arm around my shoulders. “Nina, you’re my best friend. And like you said, we share EVERYTHING.”

I shook my head. “Not everything.”

Lily drooped.

“But glitter paper and crayons are perfect for sharing,” I said.