“You can’t leave! Unless you’d like to swim all the way back to Tahiti,” Diane said, crossing her hands over her thin chest. “This was a week’s excursion, Blaire! You promised!”

“You promised a lot of things, too,” Blaire reminded her. “I don’t even know why I was friends with you in the first place! We’re worlds apart.”

“You’re right about that,” Diane answered, holding her head high. “You care more about Itchypolians -“

“Ethiopians, you dope.”

“Whatever! You care more about them than me,” Diane continued.

“Yeah, I care more about them than you,” Blaire said quietly, letting her hands hang limp. “You have everything you ever wanted – you’re rich, you’ve got a trophy husband who’s the head of a bank, and yet you do nothing to help those around you!”

“So you’re saying I should spend all my money on people who are going to die anyway?”

Blaire’s frame became rigid with fury. “If you’d shut your arrogant mouth and actually work your ass off, once in a while, maybe those people wouldn’t die.”