A tense silence falls over us for a long while, but is broken by her irrepressible curiosity. She asks me, "who?" sullenly, her wide eyes looking up at me, silently pleading with my conscience. I contemplate telling her outright, imagine the words spilling from my mouth, and the devastation on her beautiful, sad face as she discovers once more that she does care who the girl was: that the girl was her best friend.
"How..."
I decide, perhaps deludedly, that if I told her, I'd have some sort of power over them both... "It was me."
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