Naomi and Posie

Hi, Jelly Beans.
This was not your average game of BeanBoozled.

In the hallway at school, Posie and one of the Connor twins were standing shoulder to shoulder, reading from an orange index card tucked inside a beautiful navy and paisley planner. Naomi’s planner.

Naomi, walking the other way, froze.

Now listen, Jelly Beans—hallway drama hits different when it’s your best friend reading your secrets out loud. Naomi wasn’t just embarrassed—she was as warm and broken like an old box of candy that is squished at the bottom of your bookbag. 

How could Posie do this to me? she thought. How could she do this?

Naomi marched right up to Posie and the twin, eyes locked, spine straight.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I believe you have something that’s mine.”

(Cue the collective gasp from the Jelly Bean gallery.)

Without waiting, she snatched the card from Posie’s hand. It read:

You are kind. You are patient. You are loving. Don’t let the others get you down…

And so on, and so forth.

Naomi exhaled, finally—planner in hand, note safely back in her possession. But her relief was brief. Right there, in the middle of the hallway, stood her childhood best friend.

Her best friend from second grade. Third grade. Fourth. All the grades, really—before things got complicated in fifth, sixth, seventh, and now, eighth.

She used to trust Posie.

But lately, Posie was a mystery flavor—sometimes sweet, sometimes sour, sometimes just… mean.

You see, Naomi and Posie had a weird friendship. The kind you try to unwrap and end up sticky.

It all started back in kindergarten, on a super snowy day.

Posie and her older sister Poppy were playing a game: Ice Sculpture Store.

Naomi, excited and bundled up in her puffy purple coat, marched over to a group of kids and said, “I want to play Ice Sculptures too!”

One kindergartner shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Posie. Posie and Poppy are in charge.”

So Naomi walked right up and asked, all hopeful: “Can I play, Posie?”

Posie shook her head. “We don’t need any more ice sculpture sellers today.”

Ouch.

Naomi was flustered. She’d just been excluded—for the very first time.
And honestly? It tasted like one of those weird buttered popcorn jelly beans you think is going to be bananas.

From that day on, Naomi quietly declared Posie her sworn enemy.

That is… until second grade.

Naomi was sitting on the bench—not quite lonely, but lonely enough—when Posie walked over like nothing had ever happened.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Naomi, straight out of a movie, said, “Yeah. I’m kind of sad no one will play with me today.”

And just like that, they became inseparable. (The kind of best friends who spent every waking moment thinking about what games to play with each other) Until they weren’t.

By third grade, they were fighting about who had the cuter My Little Kangaroo

 By fourth grade, they were on again, off again.
By sixth grade, Posie was with the cool kids.
And by now—well. You saw the hallway.

---

Back to the present.

Naomi held the orange index card close and walked away. She didn’t cry. She didn’t yell.
She just… kept moving.

She never brought it up again.

Because here’s the truth, Jelly Beans: sometimes you don’t get closure. Sometimes people read your affirmations out loud like they’re just words and not tiny pieces of your heart.But Naomi knew she didn’t need to make a scene. Because they’d have to live with what they did. Some friendships fade,  Some people flake. But a Jelly Bean who knows her flavor? She keeps going.