Page 67 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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I don’t think straight under pressure.

My two main adult role models,

Mum and Granny, don’t either.

Vass pulls a small packet of tissues

from their pocket, and there’s only one left.

I think of all the tears they must’ve cried

alone

and with Theía Estélla.

They dab their face dry.

“I thought my mum would blame me.”

“It’s not your fault, Vass,” I say gently.

“I know, but it’s not like I’m a virgin.”

“That’s beside the point,” I say too angrily.

I catch myself: I’m angry with the wrong person.

“He had no right to do that to you, Vass.

No one has the right to make you do anything,

regardless of what you’ve done before.”

“I know,” says Vass.

They hang their head and begin to cry again.

My whole body shudders involuntarily

the moment Vass isn’t looking at me.

It’s like I’ve been holding that shudder in.

I don’t want Vass to see

that I feel sick to my stomach,

that I fantasized about having sex with Adonis

at night when I zoomed in on that photo of him.

I feel guilty, disgusted, and confused.

As their best friend,

I wish there was more I could do to support them,

besides listen and reassure them

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