Kill them with kindness and enthusiasm if you can’t kill them at all.

I’d even gotten her lunch for her, carrying it like a pathetic assistant while she whimpered about her arm. I didn’t even spit in it. I wanted to. (Imagine watching her eat something that came from inside me. Oh, heaven.)

Worse than that, she was blaming me for Lisa’s death. Me? As if. She should be blaming Lisa. No, she should be thanking me—Lisa wore veils.

This was life; shit happens. You either dealt with it and went back to wearing Gucci, or you curled up in a ball and waited to die. Only the strong survived.

We’re considering it suspicious for now. Why didn’t anyone report her missing? She’d been dead for a few days.” A full week, actually. But who was counting?

She was found in her apartment yesterday. Dead.” About time.

I wanted her to say to me that I was perfect, I was everything she wanted in a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing.

I wondered what would shut her up the fastest: smashing her head through the glass window or agreeing with her. I decided to go with the latter. Why ruin her pretty face?

I was desperate for a Sarah win. But the more I craved it, the more annoyed I got. At Sarah, not myself. She would never be satisfied. I glanced at my Instagrammed selfie from the salon. My hair looked good, dammit. What would it take for Sarah Taft to tell me I was perfect?

Jokes were essential. I liked having them with BFFs. Meredith and I had one. We would always point out a boy and say, “That’s who you’re gonna marry.” And then laugh until we cried. She always picked the ugliest ones for me. She was such a bitch.