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F o u r t e e n
"I'm bad friend."
"The worse."
We're out, finally together for the longest time, and I have already recounted all these events on her. I have been babbling none stop for more than thirty minutes, telling her how it felt from the very first moment with him to the little thing with me sitting on his lap. I needed this; I needed her to be there for me as I had been for me and her silly drama.
"What was her name again?"
"Sherry," I said while batting my eyes in the same ridiculous way I had seen her do.
"Her name is stupid."
"She's stupid."
"I'm drunk." I sighed and leaned back against the wall.
"Me too!" She started clapping and laughing like I had told her the best joke in the world.
It was one in the morning, and we were heavily intoxicated, to the point of being crossed-eyed and unable to stand up straight. There was a party, a few blocks down from we had walked from at least one hour ago. I screamed under the l
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