As life sometimes dictates, something else very sudden and unexpected happened on the last day of school: Alex told us that she would be switching to a private school next year.

"My mom thinks it's for the best," she confides to us. "The moms gossip, and she just keeps looking at me like I've changed or something. Like I'm a bad kid now. I just want to make her happy."

It was true that gossip had been spreading already among the students as well. The boy guilty of the sexual harassment had just as many friends as Alex had and I could see it becoming a problem in middle school.

Still, we were sad she was leaving, or at least, I was. I wasn't sure what Sally thought of it as she announced that Sal, Melanie and I would be having a group meeting rescheduled for the first weekend of summer break.

I convince my mom to let me go, and as soon as I ring the bell to Sally's door, it swings open ominously.

"The others are already downstairs," Sally says in a foreboding voice from behind the opened door.

I proceed cautiously to the basement as Sally follows closely in my footsteps.

Sal and Melanie both look up at me very seriously from the couch as I walk into the room.

"I asked them to come earlier because we weren't sure how you'd react," Sally explains, sitting down next to me.

I swallow, nervous now about what I've been set up for. 

"How I'd react to what?" I finally ask.

Sally, Melanie and Sal all exchange looks. Sal must have drawn the short straw in their non-verbal conversation because she says: "we've decided to kick Mary out of the group and we want to know if you're on board or not."

The statement leaves little room for argument and I look between them helplessly, wondering how this could have happened right under my nose.

Sure, Eva had warned me, but I had told her to forget about it, hadn't I? That it would all be fine? Well, it certainly wasn't fine.

I desperately wonder if asking them to all just get along would help, but this seems a little elementary so I instead ask the only question I feel there is left to ask: "why?"

"Kennith," Melanie answers as if on cue, as if anticipating this question. Her watery eyes drill into me, deceiving innocence turned into cold cunning. "Mary had no right to go after him after you and Sal laid claim to him."

I can't believe my ears. Kennith wasn't the property of anyone, he was just a boy. Mary's boyfriend.

"It's girl-code," Sally explains as if sensing I don't fully understand.

This makes me angry and I blurt: "Are we really fighting over a boy right now?"

"No," Sal says calmly, and I wonder how long they're going to keep switching between them as if passing of the buck. "We aren't fighting. You are."

It becomes very clear to me then that I'm either "on board" with the plan or I'm out of the group completely.

After a short silence during which I resolve to the situation a bit, Melanie continues as if rehearsed: "now we have to talk about Eva."

Catching on to where this is going I say sadly, "Eva would never agree to kick Mary out of the group."

Sally smiles understandingly as though happy the conversation is going as she anticipated. "Go on," she presses.

I sigh, the anger having gone from me quickly and been replaced with reluctant complacency. "She was going to confront you at lunch on Tuesday, but she didn't get the chance."

"Confront Sally about what?" Sal asks with mock outrage on her face.

"Well?" Melanie urges.

Now, you, the reader, might understand what I was referring to earlier when I mentioned bitchy pubescent girls.

Just so you don't think I'm a complete moron when I tell you what happens next, I'll inform you that while I may have been bad at kickball, I tied first place in the physical fitness long distance running exam three years in a row with a boy in my age group. I scored second place in the school spelling bee two years in a row. I made it to regional in the science fair. Mary, Eva and I performed an Evanescence song together for the talent show in Fourth Grade along with our friend Sarah; we called our band Black Ivy. I played the main part in our Sixth Grade Shakespeare play.

This might give you the false impression that I wasn't as fucked up socially back then as I am now, in this instance. But, believe me, I was. Those days were just easier than these ones.

My superpower being what it is, I've dealt with a certain level of anxiety my whole life, and sometimes I do goofy things to cope with this information overload, like fixate on something away from the source of the anxiety. But this situation holds a social burden I don't think I can run away from. And none of my previous accomplishments could prepare me for the overwhelming feeling of peer pressure I feel now.

I look all three of them in the eye, something I rarely do, and I say some things about Eva that are unkind. I don't come to her or Mary's rescue, like they would have done for me, but I talk meanly behind their backs.

Eva calls me on my mom's cell the next day. Not only does she know she's out of The Group, but bold Sal's told her what I said. 

I realize I've lost maybe the most important friend of all: my best friend. And I learn that words hurt, even the ones spoken behind closed doors.