“You seem pretty good to me,” I said. She looked down, and pink crawled into her cheeks in blotches. It occurred to me that it might be the first time I had ever told her she was good at anything. She couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth dragging upward. It was obvious for me to want to go back in time and undo the big wrongs, but in that moment I would have settled for changing the small ones. I wished we could go back to being eight years old, just so I could be nicer to Linda, just so I could tell her she was good at handstands, a good best friend.
