Janice gave a giggle. She sipped her Margarita, thoughtful. She smirked, “So, you are calling me poor, I guess”.
Belinda’s face fell. “No girl, I didn’t mean it this way…”
Janice winked at her. “Gotcha! Of course, I know what you mean. I know we don’t really fit into that school, and there is no way I could ever dream of affording the fees. But I sort of bullied Melissa into preparing at least one school year early, she spent the whole summer studying, and then the test… I wonder if it’s all my fault…”, mumbled Janice, this last sentence mostly to herself.
Belinda frowned. “What do you mean?”, she asked, reaching out to hold Janice’s hand.
Janice sat still, closing her fingers around Belinda’s soft warm hand.