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Amanda squirmed in the wooden chair. Her butt was numb, and she hoped she wouldn't have to sit here much longer.
Each moment she sat in the dingy gray office increased the chance of someone recognizing her.
What if her mother found out she was here?
What would she tell her?
Amanda had no idea. She couldn't tell Mother the truth. She'd promised Debbie she wouldn't tell a soul.
When the door creaked open, her heart pounded. She quickly turned in her chair and raised an outdated magazine to cover her face.
Peeking under the magazine, she watched as a pair of shoes walked across the stained carpet and stopped in front of the nurse's desk.
Butterflies danced in her stomach as she strained to hear the newcomer's voice. When she finally heard the unfamiliar voice, her breath escaped in a relieved sigh.
Once again, she asked herself how she'd let Debbie talk her into coming here. Then she remembered Debbie sobbing on her shoulder and begging her to help, repeatedly crying, "I NEED YOU TO COME WITH ME. I can't do this alone. You're my best friend."
And because they were best friends, Amanda had agreed to come to the clinic with Debbie. Resigned to waiting a bit longer, she settled back in the uncomfortable chair and prayed that Debbie would be all right.
End
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