My worst best friend

When fat Sally was still the little chubby Sallietje, she already excelled in squalor. The kind of child you immediately hate, who pulls other children by the hair and knocks them over on the playground. The kind who deliberately hits the ball at your head in tennis, and then viciously shouts 'sorry!'. Who would rather be right than have friends. None of us say what we really think about her. At least not to her puffed-up face. My worst best friend is about mild Michelle, lesbian Nikki, perfect Helena, fat Sally and myself. We share everything, especially a lot of secrets (which we of course tell others). As soon as I suspect that I will have to share my own husband with one of them, a few things are said out loud for the first time.