True Friendship Is A Promise

Once I Turned Eighteen, I Could Cut Myself Off From Everyone And Finally Get What I Wanted, Which Was To Be On My Own, Once And For All. ~ruby, Pg 38

Call It Crazy, Or Just Chicken Salad. But Within Reason, Or Without It I Was In It Too.

But She Wouldn't. I Knew That Already. My Mother And I Had An Understanding: We Worked Together To Be As Much In Control Of Our Shared World As Possible. I Was Suposed To Be Her Other Half, Carrying My Share Of The Weight. In The Last Few Weeks, I'd Tried To Shed It, And Doing So Sent Everything Off Kilter. So Of Course She Would Pull Me Tighter, Keeping Me In My Place, Because Doing So Meant She Would Always Be Sure, Somehow, Of Her Own.

And So, While The Rest Of The World Went On Unaware, Drinking Their Coffee, Reading The Sports Page, And Picking Up Their Dry Cleaning, I Leaned Forward And Kissed Dexter, Making A Choice That Would Change Everything. Maybe Somewhere There Was A Ripple, A Bit Of Jump, Some Small Shift In The Universe, Barely Noticeable. I Didn’t Feel It Then. I Felt Only Him Kissing Me Back, Easing Me Into The Sunlight As I Lost Myself In The Taste Of Him And Felt The World Go On, Just As It Always Had, All Around Us.

It Was A Basic Plot In Any Number Of Her Books: Girl Strikes Out, Makes Good, Finds Love, Gets Revenge. In That Order. The Making Good And Striking Out Part I Liked. The Rest Would Just Be Bonus.