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“Dahlia,” Temmy says carefully. “Do you think a fourteen-year-old should be wearing browns and grays all the time?”

I look up, up, up, where the white stone meets the blue sky. Hashem, I think, please let it all be easier. High school, classes, teachers

We don’t need each other anymore, and without that, the friendship doesn’t hold much weight

Why does it feel so good to get things down in writing? And how have I not known about this sooner? 

Of course, I’d never admit this to anyone. I sound like a crazy person, or at least very unteenagery

“I hear what you’re saying,” I say and suddenly it’s desperately important that Debbi believes me