The is sky blue but sometimes pink. The sky was deep navy with a sprinkle of stars when my best friend, Grace, told me she had slept with the boyfriend of another girl who went to our school. We were both 17 and liked to think we had our lives sorta figured out.
It was around ten in the evening and we were lounging around in her room. Grace’s parents often traveled and left her by herself. The overhead light was on, washing everything in the room in soft white lighting. The lighting made the blue flowers on her bed appear sweet and the gray on her walls appear gentle.
Grace’s eyes were on the floor as she told me the story, of how they were grouped together for a project and it went one from there. A tiny, almost barely noticeable smile was tugging on her pale pink lips. She seemed to be slightly happy that she might have just ruined a relationship.
“So…you two…did…the deed that isn’t supposed to be done till marriage?” I squeaked out. Grace nodded, pink filling her pale cheeks.
“Was it good?” I asked. Grace didn’t say anything as a quiet buss filled the room. Neither of us knew what to say.
“Did you study for the math test on Friday?” Grace finally asked. I raised my eyebrows. She was advoiding the subject because from what I knew, Grace hated math with a burning passion.
“Why did you do it?” I finally said. “This is something pretty low and call me name if you want, but I would have never suspected you as the sleeping with another girl’s boyfriend type of girl. There has to be a reason! The Grace I know and love would never do something like this. Was it a last moment decision? A moment of weakness? Why didn’t you tell me first? I thought I was your best friend.”
“Have you ever noticed how no one cares for a weed?” Graced asked in a calm voice. “They just let the weed sit and grow and grow until it finally makes itself noticed…only to be shot down by a single stream of poison from a hand above. Then the once strong weed is tossed aside because it is dead and of no used. The only reason the weed was there was that it could be tossed aside. The only way for the weed not to be tossed aside is to disappear and come back even stronger.” I didn’t understand what she was saying, but she had an almost heartbroken  expression on her face.
Later that night, as Grace slept silently, I looked at the moon. Glowing, round and bright, I took note of myself. I am very independent, but I hate being alone. Glancing at the stack of papers on Grace’s desk, I wrinkled my nose; I will forever dislike math.
The next morning, Grace was nowhere to be found and the only thing she had left behind was a sheet of paper with a weed drawn on it.