Whoa. I didn’t think Kaitlyn was that deep. I thought she hated me, like, for fun.

“Does popularity really mean that much to you? Is it worth staying with a guy who abuses you?”

She looks away in the distance, unable to meet my eyes as she murmurs, “It’s not just about that. Without Ryan I’m just . . . I’m just alone.”

I actually feel my heart kind of break. I never thought I would feel bad for Kaitlyn. But here I am. Feeling bad for her and genuinely wanting to help her.

“Hey, listen to me. You are Kaitlyn Anderson. You’re stronger than this. And you’re not alone. You have friends and people who care about you. Leave Ryan and get your shit back together.”

“Oh God. Please don’t tell me you’re about to say that you care about me and that you want to be my friend. Because I’ll tell you right now that will never in a million years happen. Like, ever.”

“Please. I’d have to get hit really hard on the head for that to happen. Come on, let’s get back to my car. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Finally, she turns around and treks back to my car. It’s a small victory, getting her to accept a ride, but I still feel like celebrating.

Before I can say anything else, she grows serious, her voice coming out small, which is such a contrast to her normal personality. “Even if I want to leave Ryan, I can’t.”

We stop in front of my car and I turn to face her. “Why the hell not?”

She sighs, and I see her mental debate over if she should tell me or not.

In the end, she decides to tell me. “He has . . . pictures . . . saved on his phone.”

“Pictures? So what? Who cares if—ohhh.” The meaning of her words sink in, and we’re left staring at each other.

“Yeah,” she says solemnly, then leans on the hood of my car and stares straight ahead as the sun sets around us. “If I leave him, he’ll send them out.”

I move beside her and lean on my car too. “I know it’s not ideal, but would you really prefer to keep getting beaten up over him sending some pictures out?”

“Are you stupid? If those pictures get out, I’m done. Colleges actually screen their applicants, not to mention the social embarrassment. And my parents? Oh my Go—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” I cut her off. “But you can’t just stay with him because of that. How old are you? Seventeen?”

“Yes, but I thought of that angle already. If I report him, there’s a chance I’d get in trouble for distributing child pornography.”

“What? But it’s a picture of yourself?”

She rolls her eyes for what must be the millionth time tonight. “I know, it’s stupid, but that’s the fucking patriarchy for you.”

What do we do in this situation? I can’t just let her run back to Ryan and continue getting hurt. But she clearly has her heart set on staying with him, at least as long as he has pictures of her. We stand there, leaning against the hood of my car, staring at the sunset, two girls who consider themselves enemies, in a comfortable silence, each lost in her own thoughts.