Eighteen
Melissa had agreed to be a part of the old school event. Not just to turn up, but to help organise.
“You’ve got time,” others had told her when they read her bio. “Not like your bosom buddy Zelda.”
“She’s a real success,” said Melissa, taking the implications on board and deciding that this was a once-off. Her old classmates liked a certain amount of success only and enjoyed stepping on those who were down. This had been true when she and her friends had been the brightest among them, and it was no different now. As a public good, she let the other ex-students walk all over her. She did not, however, tell Hal.
“I’ll be glad it’s over,” she said to him. “And I promise I’m not going to help with organising again. What I’m going to do is use this lunch.”
“Use it?”
“To move on.
