The Things We Do To Our Friends

by Heather Darwent

I was a bubble of nervous energy, and I could have screamed out loud, right there in the middle of the street, but I held it in.

I understood it well. I’d been on the other side, and I’d been somewhat clingy myself, so I wasn’t entirely unsympathetic. But the sympathy wasn’t enough. However much I tried to be nice and easy and rational, Ashley made my skin crawl,

“Shut the fuck up, you moron.” She enunciated every word, speaking with a confidence I’d never seen in anyone our age before, and stared in a way I adored, so much steely disdain. He looked quite shocked and he laughed a little uneasily.

They were who I was supposed to meet, but there was no sense in pushing it,

Tabitha and her group were opting out of being young, which was fine by me.

It was the simple delight of spending time with people I felt such a strong pull toward, of learning more about them and watching the way they spoke to each other—I inhaled the details.