Monday, May 18, 2015

Short Stories & Such 18: Best Friends Need your Help

Back in 2012, I wrote a piece on Writer’s Digest with the title’s prompt. I revised some parts. Hope you enjoy!

Best Friends Need your Help

"Hey, we've done something terribly wrong and need your help. We can't talk about it over the phone. Please meet us at the spot where we made our pact back in high school. You know the place."

The call ended just as soon as it started. I didn’t quite understand what my two best friends were up to. It had always been that way since High School. I would be the one who cleaned up their mess, and sometimes, it wasn’t pretty. In a way, I was glad our friendship lasted the way it did. They were the popular ones everybody wanted to hang out with. Growing up allowed me ample opportunities to distance myself from them, especially after what they did at prom night.

Just hearing their shrill voices brought back memories of how they would talk behind the teacher’s back and when confronted, they turned to me so I could bail them out on some lame excuse like, “They were discussing the reasons Hitler considered getting rid of the Jews…” or “They were going over the formula for the assignment…” something like that.

All I knew now was that I had to go help them in any way I could. That’s the awful part. There was always a pull to get them out. Even though, I had nothing to do with that boy’s fall at prom night, I took the blame and they made sure to visit me in prison.  

I grabbed my coat and car keys. I had trouble turning the car ignition and fumbled through my purse for a tissue to clean the blob of bird poop that just happened to fly down on my window. Not to mention I almost drove over the rose garden in my haste.

That old building a few blocks from the school was still standing after all these years. That’s where we made our pact to stay true to each other, love the quarterback Andrew Lacey, and be best friends for ever, ‘til the end.

There it was and there they were, wrapped in their fluffy coats and skinny jeans, wearing knee high boots. Painful was the word for this picture until I got a look at their faces. Their heavy makeup covered the bruises and made them look like porcelain dolls.

“My goodness! What happened?”

“Never mind that. Do you still have it?”

“Have what?”

“You know: the necklace?”

“No. I pawned it last year.”

“You what!?!”

“I sold it. I never did like the thing...”

Their eyes filled with horror. “We can’t trust you.”


“You were supposed to hold on to it forever.”

“It was just a trinket Andrew gave us. It had no sentimental value whatsoever.”

“That’s what you think.”

My two best friends from High School. My two best friends who would stick with me ‘til the end. My two best friends took hold of my arms and dragged me to the edge of the second story building. My two best friends…


If you’re interested in reading the first draft and the comments left, check out March 13, 2012 at

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