She’s been crying.
Her turquoise eyes shining.
She pulls me into the corner of the hallway,
asks why I didn’t tell her.
My insides shrink,
all I can think to say is I didn’t know how.
She asks did I think she couldn’t handle it,
that she wouldn’t understand or be helpful?
I shake my head no, that’s not it.
But I don’t say anything
except I’m sorry.
We stand in strained silence,
then the Yearbook advisor
taps me on the shoulder.