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keep the guilt at bay.

“If you were in trouble and you didn’t want me to know, who would you call?”

I mull it over for a moment, the guilt doing it’s best to make me acknowledge its presence.

“Hannah,” I spit out, reluctantly.

“If you were scared, who would you call, besides me of course.”

Guilt is winning out. I shrink down in my chair, fingers fiddling with a stand of wind-tangled hair. “Hannah.”

“When you need help solving a problem, big or small, who would you trust to actually help you get it done?”

“Ugh! Hannah, okay?”

“Do I have to keep going?”

“No. I get it. It doesn’t mean that I like her right now, though.” I point out. It’s the truth, I don’t like her right now. I keep my eyes down, not meeting my dad’s eyes, my fingers absently picking at a new tangle.

“I don’t care if you like her or not, you owe her an apology. What on Earth possessed you to think it was okay to use her like that?”

“Because she never does anything wrong!” I can’t contain the words, or my anger any longer. “Stupid Hannah is so fucking perfect, with her perfect mom and her perfect dancing and her perfect never-breaks-the-rules attitude.” My dad looks shocked at my language, but once the words start flowing I couldn’t stop them if I tried.

“It’s not fair! When I told you she was coming on my first date with Tyler, suddenly, just because Little Miss Perfect was coming, you go from the Spanish Inquisition to ‘have fun, sweetie, here’s an extra hour on your curfew while you’re at it.’ Just because she was coming too.” I take a shaky breath, the tears I’ve been fighting spilling over. “I hate her for always being right.”

My dad is silent for several long minutes while I hiccup and try to catch my breath. “Do you think that maybe you started being mad at her years ago, because she didn’t understand how you were feeling about your mom? And in her defense, how could she? You guys were twelve when your mom passed, neither of you knew how to deal with it. She tried to be your friend the best way she knew how and I think you’re mad because she wasn’t exactly the friend you needed.” He pauses expectantly. I glance up to see him looking down at me, making sure I’m paying attention. “Because she couldn’t understand what you needed. And the one thing you really wanted was impossible for anyone to give you. It’s not her fault your mom isn’t here.”

I let my dad’s words soak into my mind. Maybe he’s right.

“Olivia, it’s okay if you never go back to being the best friends you were as kids. I don’t think you can expect to, but you owe her an apology. What you did wasn’t right, even if she’s not your best friend anymore.”

“I ’m serious Olivia, I was worried sick! How could you do that to me? What were you thinking?” I tried to catch her before our next class, but she never even gave me a chance to speak before she started laying into me.

“I got it Hannah, it won’t happen again. Promise.”

“Really?”

“I solemnly swear I will not say I’m with you when I’m not.” I answer sarcastically, hand on my heart. We’re alone in the dressing room at the studio. “Let it go, I have the worst headache,” I add, wincing as she drops her water bottle with a clang.

“Serves you right,” Hannah says, a little nastily, which takes me by surprise. “I’m so mad at you right now. That was a stupid thing to do Olivia. I know you think that being sixteen is all about making dumb decisions, but there’s dumb and then there’s really dumb.”

“Oh my god, Hannah, stop.” I cut her off, my eyes flashing with anger. “What exactly do you think we were doing?” I don’t wait for her answer. “We went to the beach, roasted hot dogs and s’mores. And drank,” her eyes open wide at this and I know I’ve nailed it, that’s exactly what she thought. “We drank fucking soda Hannah, nothing else. That was the entire varsity football and cheer squads, do you really have such a low opinion of not only me, but Tyler and Jack and Hunter that you think we would be on a public beach, where there are cops patrolling every hour, drinking alcohol? Not to mention we all had to drive home again? Wow, some friend you are. I bet you were the one who sent my dad that photo.”

“Then why did you lie about where you were, if you weren’t doing anything wrong?” Hannah huffs, arms crossed over her chest.

“Honestly? Because my dad lets me have a later curfew if I say I’m with you,” I tell her with a shrug. “Like I said, you’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“That’s it? You just wanted a later curfew?” Hannah looks ready to spit fire. “I’m done.” What? Meek and mild, bland banana Hannah is actually standing up for herself? I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so irritated. “Get a new sucker to cover for you.”

“Seriously? You are such a baby. For god’s sake, nothing happened.” Hannah just stands there staring at me. “Whatever. I promise I won’t ask your goody-two-shoes ass for help again.” She grabs her shoes and stalks out the room without a word.

Whatever. I know I’m supposed to be apologizing, but Hannah’s accusations are making that really hard right now.

Our next class is so tense that you could slice the sweaty air with a knife. The more I focus on being mad at Hannah, the better I dance. I attack each step with an energy I haven’t been able to muster for the last two weeks. It feels so good to throw my legs up in the air, to swing my arms wide, to turn as fast as I can and crack my hips and shoulders from side to side

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