It was the subtle things that gave it away.

Like when she pushed the door wide open so that she didn’t feel bad when I had to stop it from closing in my face.

And the way she walked a full staircase ahead of me on the way to the third floor.

The way she was in the apartment before I’d reached the landing.

I wasn’t walking slowly. I was the one who grew up with the six-foot-tall little sister. I’d learned to walk as fast as some people jog. But tonight she was sure to stay a good distance behind me.

She’s mad at me, I thought numbly, sniffling from my cold leftover from yesterday. I hated when people were mad at me. Especially when I didn’t do anything wrong.

Well, maybe I did do something. I thought back to the car ride home.

Anne, Reyna, and I saw a movie that night. It was a special treat because Anne was usually broke; and since she was the only one of us with a car, Reyna and I were stuck hanging out around campus for weeks on end. But Anne was excited when I got back from class that day, and she asked if I could pay for her movie ticket if Reyna would pay for her gas.

Why not?

The movie was great, a mind-boggling spectacular packed with beautiful cinematography. On the ride home afterwards, we talked about the weird plot and what it possibly could have meant.

There is nothing better than finding hidden meaning in a piece of art. That’s why I chose to be an English major to begin with.

It was almost midnight, and the movie made my mind sort of blissfully switch off so that I was on cruise control, ready to pass out in bed when we got back. Thinking about what would make the night complete, I, of course, concluded that we needed cookies.

“We should get cookies. I still have money leftover.”

Anne nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I could tell you were hungry by the way you snatched the popcorn from my hands when the film was over.”

I giggled lazily and shrugged in the backseat.

“I thought you were going to get my fingers!” Anne continued, encouraged by my giggling.

It kind of annoyed me. I seemed to be annoyed easier with some people than with others. Anne was good as annoying me.

“Okay, no cookies,” I said, holding a casual tone. “We should get home anyway, early classes tomorrow.” It would be taken as a joke, but it made me feel better so that I wouldn’t get too grouchy.

“I didn’t want any of your damn cookies,” Anne continued. Reyna laughed with her. Reyna was closer to Anne than I was; they’d been friends since high school while I’d only met Anne in community college and decided to live with her when we both went off to Wayne State. Because of this, being with them was kind of like being a distant third wheel: someone for Anne to irk to look cool in front of Reyna.

Not that they were bad people or anything. In fact, it was probably just me being annoyed.

I didn’t reply to Anne, so she went on a rant about my chocolate cravings to Reyna while I stared out the window and hummed a tune. I was still in a pleasant mood, just under annoyed now since I was looking forward to the cookies.

We pulled into a Wal-Mart parking lot, and Anne drove all the way around the outside edge of the lot like she always did, circling the spaces like a vulture looking for a good kill. After she went down a lane by the left entrance, and pointed out that the groceries were at the other entrance.

She veered right, while justifying her actions with something like, “but we always end up paying at the other end…”

I hadn’t quite heard her, so I asked, “When have we ended up praying?”

Reyna laughed and looked back at me, annunciating the word, “PAY-ing.:”

Great. Another reason for them to make fun of me.

I repeated, “Paying,” and acted the cute ditzy blonde, but this time Anne hadn’t quite heard me.

“I said paying,” she told me loudly, beginning to pull into a spot. “Now do you want your cookies or not?”

I scoffed and replayed my last reaction in a very sarcastic, but smiling tone. “Oh no. We’ve got to get home.”

“Fine.” To my surprise, Anne pulled through the spot and out of the parking lot. No one said anything. Reyna was probably surprised, too, because Anne didn’t usually act like that. She made fun and said mean things but it was always in jest, never in anger.

The fact that I’d made her angry made my stomach boil, and I wished someone would speak. I wouldn’t, because I’d been silent most of the car ride.

Reyna reminded Anne to drop her off at her apartment. They chatted for a couple of minutes, then there was more silence.

I said goodbye to Reyna when she got out of the car, and warned Anne about the bike rack when she was backing out into the road. She’d already seen them. That may have made things worse.

Then came the swinging doors, the quick steps up the stairs and retreating into the apartment. When I got in the door, I used the bathroom, and she was in the bedroom when I came out.

Has she gone to bed? I asked. She’s never retired without saying goodnight, or at least letting me know what she was doing.

Anne came out a few minutes later, used the bathroom, then went back into the bedroom. I looked at the closed door and thought to myself, She’s mad at me.

I hate when people are mad at me.

I don’t think that I did anything wrong. We only bickered as we always have.

I mostly hate it because it makes me feel so damn guilty. Why couldn’t I have just been nicer? Why did I have to be so annoyed by Anne’s taunting? Is it really her who annoys me, or is it my own problem? Too much doubt and guilt swarmed me, made me itch with it.

Makes me write in my stupid diary.

Makes me write stories about it. As if that would help.