Another Secret

She walked down the dim road, arm wrapped around the girl whom she was best of friends with.
Her friend held her waist, and they laughed about nothing as the last light shut its eyes.
As they walked, they spoke about the future.  They spoke about the past.
And in a moment, the light from both of their eyes became solemn, and the girl let her arm drop off of her friends shoulders.
She tied her long curly red hair up into a bun, looking at her friend's deep brown eyes.
"Is it okay, that I don't tell you everything Sammy?"
Sammy brushed her black hair away from her face, letting the brisk air lick her cheeks pink.
After a few minutes, she nodded once.  "I hope you don't tell me everything.  Because if you did, you wouldn't have anything that was truly yours."
The red haired girl felt a wave of sadness slam into her gut, and she decided to simply sit on the cold cement sidewalk.
"I don't feel like anything is truly mine anyways."  She sighed.
Sammy sat down across from her, bringing her gaze to her friend's.  "You do.  It may not seem like it, but you do.  All the feelings you get when you see the boy you fancy?  That's yours.  The inhaling of icy air when you run?  Yours.  And the way you smile when you remember something that made you happy?  Absolutely yours.  Cris, you have so much that's yours."
Cris allowed doubt to cloud her eyes.
"It just seems that whatever I want doesn't matter.  A tattoo?  My mom promised it a year ago, it never happened and now she's getting one.  My friend got one before me when I have been wanting one for seven years."  She punched the ground, "Seven years, Sam."  Her hands clenched into fists.
Sammy fiddled her hands, unknowing what to say.
"Your hair is unique."  Sam ran her hand through Cris's icy red hair, pulling it out of the bun.
"It does nothing anymore."  She brushed away her hand.
"Your eyes are stunning."  Sammy was sounding exasperated now.
"They make me look placid."  Cris snapped back.
Sammy stood up, ruffling her own hair.  "Your clothes are so different and beautiful compared to others."
Cris stood up too, crossing her arms.  "That doesn't mean anything.  Everything I wear is baggy and black.  I look like a murderer, but I can't wear other clothes that girls wear! Like crop tops, or skirts or dresses or shit like that!"  Tears were pooling in her pale blue eyes now.
Sammy screamed now, shoving her friend's shoulders, "Well I can't tell you things you want to hear until you feel better, because you won't Cris!  People can tell you you're beautiful, it doesn't make a difference!  People can tell you you're talented in art, it won't help you feel better!  I can't do that for you!  I can't help, even though I wish I could!  Do you think I like seeing you so sad that you can't hold conversations well?  That you can't eat in front of people without feeling fat?  That you can't stop comparing yourself to other people?  I can't help that!"  Sammy was sobbing now, "I can't help that."
Sammy hugged Cris tightly, crying into her shoulder.
Cris didn't speak.
Sammy whispered in her ear, "That's what you need to do.  Somehow.  Remember the little things that are yours.  That make you happy.  That will help.  You can help you."
They were silent for a long time.  Letting the cool air wrap around them.
Letting them give themselves each another moment that was truly theirs.