Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

She looked at them, their eyes curious—even
hungry.
Bridget had seen too many movies. She hadn’t imagined
her encounter with Eric would be . . . personal. She
thought it would be a jaunt. An adventure to brag to her
friends about. She expected to feel powerful. In the end
she didn’t. She felt like she’d scrubbed her heart with
SOS pads.
“Come on,” Ollie pressed. “Tell us.”
“Bridget?” It was Diana.
Bridget’s voice was buried deep this morning rather
than sharp on her tongue. “N-Nothing,” she managed.
“Nothing happened.”
Bridget could see Ollie reappraising the ghosty look in
her eyes. So it wasn’t sex; it was disappointment.
Diana’s eyes said she was unsure. Her intuition was
telling her something else. But she wasn’t distrustful. She
waited until the others were drifting away. She touched
Bridget’s shoulder. “You okay, Bee?”
Her kindness made Bridget want to cry. She couldn’t
talk about this. Nor could she look at Diana if she
wanted to keep it to herself. “I’m tired today,” she told
her sleeping bag.
“Do you want me to bring you something from breakfast?”
“No, I’ll come in a few minutes,” she answered.
She was glad when they were all gone. She curled
back up and fell asleep.
Later, Sherrie, one of the camp staffers, came to check
on her. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked Bridget.
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