No one came. I watched sadly as this little girl sat alone, crying at a table set for thirty. Her mother was angrily yelling at people on the phone, but it didn't change that the kid would never forget it. There was nothing I could do but bring out the pizza and the cake that I've been trying my hardest to keep my tears from falling onto. It seemed like the final kick to this kid, to bring out a shit ton of food that no one but her was going to eat. I wanted to do something nice for her, so I grabbed my coat and asked someone to cover for me.

The gas station across the street had cards, which I knew well since I was the shitty friend buying a card on the way to a party and scribbling something sentimental into it. I bought one of the nicer, five-dollar ones and raced back to the store. I looked out the window to see the girl still crying and her mother still cursing. It broke my heart. I stole a purple pen and wrote in pretty letters, I hope your day gets better, kid. One day things will all get better. and slipped it into an envelope along with $20. I licked the envelope and brought it out, along with one small hot fudge sundae. The little girl didn't even notice me until I was standing before her, lightly grazing her arm with the card to avoid human contact.

She looked and I could see her sad brown eyes. Realizing that this kid's self-worth had been kicked down further made me wish I had had more money or could go find every kid that didn't come and slap them for not being better friends.

"Here you go," I said softly. "I'm sorry."

She took the card with confusion. She opened it and was reading it when her mother noticed me, and came running forward.

"Fuck are you doing around my kid?" she screamed.

"I-- I was just--"

"Get away from my kid, you fucking creep!"

The woman began to swing at me, and I retreated into the kitchen. I saw her call over my manager, screaming angrily and pointing at me. She noticed her daughter, whose crying had stalled as she read my card, and snatched the card away. The woman yelled more, waving the card at my manaager and cursing. The money fell, and she grabbed it, put it into her bra, and resumed yelling. I saw the girl walk off, and watched her calmly walk out of the party place. I was going to follow her but my manager came in screaming. He reamed me for about five minutes before we heard the scream that made the whole building race outside.

The little girl was in the street bleeding out. Her mother was screaming, and when she saw me, she raced over to attack me. I barely felt her blows as I watched the little girl get medical treatment from complete strangers while other people called for help. Her mother was still hitting me as if I had stolen her man.

"You killed my baby! You killed my baby!" she was screaming with every blow.

Her hits didn't hurt as bad as seeing the little girl struggling for her life. Her mother's lack of concern only angered me more. Eventually, I pushed her aside, effectively knocking her down. She looked angrily at me, but I didn't care anymore. I knew that I wasn't to blame, but her words had hit me hard. I walked past both her and my manager, retreated into the kitchen's refrigerator, and began to bawl.