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“Why didn’t you write to him?”
“Because of what we talked about. I like him, Carla. A lot. Too much.”
The look on her face says is that all? “Do you really want to lose the only friend you’ve
ever had over a little bit of heartache?”
I’ve read many, many books involving heartache. Not one has ever described it as little.
Soul-shattering and world-destroying, yes. Little, no.
She leans back against the couch. “You don’t know this yet, but this will pass. It’s just
the newness and hormones.”
Maybe she’s right. I want her to be right so I can talk to him again.
She leans forward and winks at me. “That, and he’s cute.”
“He is pretty cute, right?” I giggle.
“Honey, I didn’t think they made them like that anymore!”
I’m laughing, too, and imagining a factory with little Ollys coming off an assembly line.
How would they ever keep them still enough to package and mail?
“Go!” She slaps my knee. “You have enough things to be afraid of. Love can’t kill you.”