In the high school bathroom,
my best friend,
told me about loosing her virginity.
They had sex over the summer break.
He was 17 she was 14.
It was beautiful,
supposedly.
He set up candles.
Really,
I could have cared less
about sex.
I still wasn’t interested
in the whole nightmare.
I was just upset
she waited
a whole year
to tell me about it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I asked.
I watched her
apply her dark
purple lipstick.
“I didn’t think you could
handle it.”
She said, licking her lips.
“What do you mean?”
My pride felt
a little in danger.
I think my voice cracked.
“Well, you know, it’s like,
okay, you know how you are,
you’re just, how do I put this
without hurting your feelings.”
“Just say it.”
I said.
“Well, it’s like,
you’re innocent, and you
just don’t understand
these womanly things.”
She turned back to the mirror
to finish her make-up.
I glared at her.
I bet she really enjoyed telling me that.
I never really liked her.
But,
that was a lie,
just like my lack of
interest in sex.
A Chatoyant Fleck 