Many moons ago, Amy ran into the small dark living room crying.  She wept so hard the green mascara was running down her cheek.

“I hate her! I really really do hate her! She hurt me!”

Her mother never a compassionate woman stood in her red flannel night gown with her glasses on from sewing. “What happened?”

“No, it’s gross! She just let him do it. I was only in the bathroom.”

Her mother stood in shock. She never hugged Amy before. When she would reach up to touch her she would step back. Amy sobbed so hard the tears were no longer green from the mascara. Amy’s face was burning from the inside like fire brushing across it.

“What did she do?”

Amy stopped crying and said, “after the movie, we dropped her off at the burger joint she works at in the city. Then Brad tells me that she let him feel  up her skirt while I was in the bathroom.  I hate her!”

“That’s awful, but don’t say that. Never say that. You don’t hate anyone. She was your friend.”

“Was! Never again! I will never talk to her again. She was my best friend. I loved her. Why would she hurt me like this.  She ruined my life.”

“She didn’t ruin your life. What about Brad?”

“What about him? I love him. I always have since we were thirteen. He said he going to marry me as a virgin. He laughed and called her a slut. She even gave him her number, ‘for a good-time.'”

“This is Brad’s fault too.”

“No! stop saying that. He loves me.  She’s the bitch. She did it. She’s ruined our friendship forever. I guess she thought he would never tell me, but he did. He always tell me about all the sluts.  I’m sick of it.  What’s wrong with girls?”

“He’s going to med school soon. Girls will never see you on his arm. You’re just an object in the way of the life they want.”

“But it hurts.” Amy begins to cry again. “I knew him when he was nothing. He promised me we would marry.”