And I think of all the times I sat in squirming silence, terrified I would say or do the wrong thing, terrified the dorky, lanky, horseback-riding loser inside me would rise up and swallow the new me, like a snake feasting on something.
This explains a lot, except why she really changed. It's normal for interest in hobbies and pastimes to wane; normally we hang onto things longer than we need to. But she deliberately stopped doing these things because she wanted to be friends with one particular person. It almost defies logic.
