Then he said it.
“Nancy.”
“Wait,” I said slowly, my stomach twisting. “Nancy who?”
“From high school. You know her.”
Oh, I knew her. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The room felt too small.
“She’s amazing,” my brother continued, oblivious. “We met a couple years ago through mutual friends, and I swear, it was like—instant connection. She’s sweet, she’s funny, she—”
“She bullied me.”
Silence.
“She made my life miserable,” I said, my voice sharp. “You never saw it because she was nice to you. But to me?” I swallowed. “She was awful.”
He hesitated. “I mean… I guess kids can be mean sometimes, but that was forever ago. People change.”
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