![]() ![]() When the concrete path succumbed to gravel, I raised the front of my too-long khaki skirt so the hem didn't drag in the dust. She traded Ryan's arm for mine-which, if I was honest, did make me feel a little safer-and without a word, we danced on our tiptoes around the massive cracks in the sidewalk, just like we'd done since the fourth grade. My best friend was tall for a girl, with an explosion of dark freckles centered at her nose and a cap of squiggly red hair that was untamable on chilly days like this one. Sheepishly, I fell into step beside Beth. My face heated as I realized how I must look: not like a conscientious friend who was minding her own business, but like a bitter third wheel who couldn't stand seeing other couples happy. Instead I walked faster, pulling away from our pack. Curfew rounds wouldn't begin for another two hours, and freedom was stolen in moments like these. ![]() It was enough to risk a formal citation for indecency, and they knew better, but I didn't say anything. ![]()
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