She blinked once and looked out the window. Was he for real? Was he fooling with her? That - friends wouldn't discuss problems and worries with each other? What kind of 'friends' did he have, that he wouldn't see them as the people you would talk to, especially about problems? Maybe that explosion of his on New Year's Eve wasn't just about him with too much alcohol: maybe Justin was so badly knotted up, locked down, that it was just an explosion. Maybe he was slightly unbalanced because of all of this repression, who knew. Mr. Nice Guy at school with this meltdown on the journals. He just had the excuse of the beer, didn't he, who would know.
But she knew. She walked past him into the hallway and looked at him, feeling stung though she forced herself to look placid. "It not be bragging to say that you be confused and upset, Justin," she informed him quietly, her shoulders square. "To talk about 'personal issues.' That not be bragging, no. That be friendship. Or something simple - like human decency, reaching out to someone who be like minded, maybe."
Sighing, she took a few steps down the hall and then stopped. "I be sorry then, my apologies, I thought you might feel like me. I be sorry for 'bragging.' Good night," she added, blinking again as to clear away his words and turning away.
She had been so hopeful, hadn't she.
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