Gabriela what's wrong?" I sat in the end of my daughter's bed and patiently waited for her to repeat the list if atrocities committed by Angela Eliot.
"Nothing."
I had seen my daughter wear this affronted look often enough to recognize it readily, and I felt a weary sigh work it's way through me. hell hath no fury like a sixth grader done wrong by her closet friend.
"I don't ever want to see Angela again."
"But sweetheart, she's your best friend."
"was my best friend, Gabriela announced theatrically. she crossed her arms over her chest with all the pimp of a queen who had made her stament and expected unquestioning acquiesce.
with mountains frustration, I folded my hands in my lap and waited, knowing better than to try and reason with Gabriela when she was in this mood. give minutes
