“You came. Don’t you remember you came that night? You’ve been a friend to me, Rhoda. I think you’re the best friend I have on this campus.” She kept on patting my arm, looking down as if she couldn’t stand to meet my eyes. Couldn’t bear to think it might not be true that I liked her as much as she liked me. How lonely her life must have been in those years, I think now. “I might not be coming back next semester,” she said. “My dad may put me in a school in Washington, D.C., so I can be near him. Or he might send me to England or something. He came down to see about me last week. He’s really busy but he still has time to worry about me.”

“I bet he loves you to death.” I turned my hand over and began to pat her. “Thanks again for saving me. Thanks for staying up so late.”

“I guess I better go. Sheffield’s down there with Mrs. Clark. I guess she wants to get to bed.”

“Goodnight, May Garth. You call me tomorrow, will you? Call and see how I’m doing.”

“Sure. Maybe you can go somewhere with us tomorrow. If you’re feeling better.”

“I might. Go on then. Save your cousin.” She moved her hand from under mine and stood up. Stood all the way up to her full height. Then she stooped and left the room.

When she was gone I turned off my lamp and lay for a long time looking out the window at the moonlight. I didn’t deserve to have a friend. I was always turning into a Judas. Always denying people that I loved. I denied Charles William all the time. I was always half ashamed to be with him, half afraid it might injure me when people found out what he did. Now I had denied May Garth. I had told Stanley two or three times that I barely knew her and didn’t like her. Yes, three times, just like Peter. Then in the end she saved me. It was disgusting. I just pretended to be wonderful. I wasn’t wonderful. I had killed a boy in a car wreck. I had killed Patricia Morgan’s only living son. That’s what came of making friends with me. I’ll do better, I decided. I’ll change the way I am. The next time a friend needs me, I’ll be there. The next time something scares me, like things Charles William does, I’ll face it down. I won’t be a coward to my friends. I won’t be a Judas. And I won’t tell on Stanley Mabry although I should. What a terrible dopey jerk he is. What a sloppy mess and he sure better pay me for my suit.