The only thing Jane ever seemed to care about was gossip. Who went where? Who did they see? What did they do? It bordered on obsessive, almost consuming. But Jane was also very willing to share her findings, and had a skilled way of prying things out of people. Nobody seemed to be able to resist her, even me, even when I was trying my very hardest to maneuver around her mind games.

“You called me, Sarah?” Jane was never one for formal greetings. 

“Yes, I did.” I leaned forward, elbows on the table, just as my mother would have hated. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

She sat down, mirroring my actions, and gave me her full, undivided attention. Maybe that was her trick. Maybe people just wanted someone to listen to them. I know I did. 

“Did you hear about David and Masie?” I asked, fiddling my thumbs under the table. 

Her ears perked up, and she nodded. “Terrible thing, it was. Me and her _just _went to the mall, you know the one down on Franklin? Everything seemed fine, really. She said David was going to propose, although if you ask me, I think it was a load of bullshit.” 

“Why’s that?” I always liked Sarah. Straight to the point, no dancing around.  

Sarah leaned in, looked around, then whispered, “I always suspected there was someone else.” 

“No!” I gasped. A few people turned their heads. 

“Yes,” she smirked, satisfied with providing information no one else knew. Always craving that look of shock and excitement when she landed the punch. “That far away look in his eyes at last year’s New Years Party, no one else seemed to catch that, did they? That is the look of boredom.”

“But who would have ever gotten bored of Masie?” 

“Sometimes people just hate what they already got. Men especially. If you ask me, the other woman was probably some insecure tramp, decked out in cellulite and last year’s jeans. The other woman is _never _pretty.” 

I looked down at my cellulite, and you guessed it, last year’s jeans, which were already growing too tight on me. I crossed my arms around myself. “How do you know that? Wouldn’t men usually cheat with a prettier woman?”

Sarah snickered, then looked me up and down. “I don’t know, do you think _you’re_ prettier than Masie?”