"I knew that would be horrible" Catherine complained when she and Brent got back from the party. "I just knew it."

"What are you talking about?" Brent asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought you were having a great time! I saw you talking to people, drinking, dancing even, once. And I'm pretty sure a few of Hannah's friends were flirting with you."

"I was stressed out the whole time!" Catherine exclaimed. "Didn't you notice? I was constantly worrying about who was I going to talk to next, and what was I going to do, and were people there looking at me? Like Rona, god, when I saw her I almost flipped out!"

"Oh come on!" Brent laughed, trying to reassure her. "Rona? I mean, I know you two never really got on, but what were expecting her to do? Come and hit you or something?"

"Talk about me" Catherine hissed. "I know she does. I know she used to. I can just feel it sometimes, all those people judging me, talking about me behind my back."

"They don't! They never do!"

"I only feel it when I'm around your friends. Never any other time. Oh, come on Brent, I told you I didn't want to go! Look!" Catherine held out her hand: it was shaking. "Your friends make me feel like I'm fucking crazy. I hate it."

"Heeey . . ." Brent slowly, carefully wrapped her in his arms, and rocked her gently side-to-side. "What do you want me to say?" he cooed. "They don't talk about you. They don't judge you. They never do."

"Can we just - please - not go to another party with your friends? Not for a while?" Catherine pleaded.

"But - they're my friends, Catherine!"

"Brent, please. Not forever, just for a little while."

Brent held her. She was shaking like a cat that had been caught in the cold.