"Just—leave me the fuck alone, alright?" Sadie hisses, jostling you off as she stalks to the bathroom, swallowing back the tears burning her eyes as she flings yoghurt off her mom’s dress.

You can hear the girls who did it—friends, they're supposed to be—erupt into a fit of shocked giggles and cajoling. They're easy to ignore, though, as you keep close on Sadie's heels, stepping into the bathroom behind her.

You're supposed to be her best friend. You're supposed to be there for her.