I can't hear her, and I can barely see her in the dim auditorium, but the fury in her eyes is clear to me even across the room. I'm almost glad I can't hear the words she's mouthing. I'm not sure I'd want to. It shouldn't be this way, but I guess I deserve it, in a twisted sort of way. I turn my head to face the ceiling, where the walls stretch out into a metal web of acoustic architecture. The tears well up in my eyes, until they spill over, caressing my cheeks, leaving gentle streaks across my face.
I told her secret.
No, I admitted the truth of her secret to those who already knew.
I told her secret.
I told her secret to protect her.
I told her secret.
I told her secret to her best friends.
I told her secret.
She should have been the one to tell.
Even since she decided to leave the high school, things changed. There were promises. Pinkie promises. We promised not to grow apart. We promised not to replace our friends.
We've been replaced. We are no longer.
Later in rehearsal, I stumble over to another. A friend. Without speaking, the tears start again and I lean my head on his shoulder. He steps away. He steps away and stares at me as I stumble and fall. He walks away. And I'm alone.
