"Want to tell me why? I'm a good twenty years older than you. I'm the one who should be cynical, not you." Debra handed her one of the hand-woven fans bigger than their heads.
They were alone on the rooftop, which was the only reason why Meg felt free enough to confide her thoughts to her.
"Just bad experiences, I guess. Or I know enough people who have had bad experiences. My prof calls them the 'pretty people.' The ones who have it all -- looks, education, social position, wealth, opportunities. The prettiest faces cover the ugliest minds and hearts, seems like. Even if they don't intend to be that way, if they're high enough on the social ladder, they have everyone telling them they can do anything they want, take anything they want, it's their right, and nobody has any right to tell them no. Even if it means hurting someone. I know there are lots of people in this world who are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside, but you don't see that many of them, and they sure don't get the good press. Or else the press is out to dig up all the dirt they can find, because they're so sure it's all a false mask. And if they can't find real dirt, they'll just spread rumors until everyone hates someone who didn't do anything wrong."
"Who do you know who was hurt like that?" Debra asked quietly, after a few moments of silence, allowing Meg's words to fade into the quiet and the gathering shadows. The children two stories below them sounded far away, their laughter and chatter even more alien than usual.
"Oh… you hear things. All the injustice in the world."
"Is that why you're down here? To help make up for the injustice in the world?""Why not?"