“The lights might have dimmed, but I blinked at that moment so I didn’t notice. I also didn’t notice her love, probably because she never showed or told me.”

“I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t think he’d ever really notice me, and in the end, he didn’t.”

“I can provide a witness who didn’t see me at the scene of the crime. That witness can also prove they didn’t see me anywhere else either, thus showing that I didn’t exist at that moment in time.”

“So why haven’t you called?” I ask her now.She looks uncomfortable. “I told you,” she says, twirling the end of her braid around her finger. “School stuff.”“Bullshit.” She looks at me and opens her mouth, probably to lie again. But then she changes her mind. “I didn’t know what to say.” Her voice catches, so I know she’s telling the truth. “And besides, you didn’t call me, either.” “Because you didn’t call me!” Doesn’t she know that the person who got kicked out of school (me) doesn’t have to call the one who didn’t(her)? She should have called to check up on me, to see how I was doing. She should have come over with lemonades and ice cream, keeping me company, helping me nurse my broken heart. That’s what best friends do. It’s so common it’s cliché.”

“As many times as I told her she was beautiful, I know that she never believed me. As many times as I said it didn’t matter, I knew that to her it did.”

“That Sindy. She was so damn smart. But I never told her that. I also never told her that I loved her, or that I loved the two little stretch marks she got from carrying Vera. Or that I loved that freckle on her forehead. I never told her that I loved her lasagna or that I thought her views on politics were clever. I just kept my mouth shut because I thought that made me safe.”