Pinkie's P.O.V
If we felt bad before we feel a thousand times worse now. I never imagined Dashie had gone through so much. I feel my shoulders slump with guilt. The others have matching postures to me. Dash's eyes are set on the floor, silent after telling us what happened. She's gone whiter than the vanilla frosting on cupcakes, whiter than snow falling on mountains. Now I understand why she didn't want to tell us. It's completely horrible...I wouldn't want anyone to know either. Not even my closest friends. And...after all that...we shut her out. Guilt overspills, threatening to choke me. It's impossible not to as I was the one who's party she missed, leading to us ignoring her.
She chews on her nails, something my aunt does when stressed. They're already pretty short so it's not a great idea. It'll just make them sore. Again though I can hardly blame her. Idea! I'll give her dessert. Sugar releases a hormone which gives you a quick burst of happiness and well being. I know a lot about desserts. Besides desserts spelled backwards is stressed. I head down to the shop quickly and buy a tub of cookie dough icecream.
"Here!" I say, putting in front of Dash, a spoon on top. "You're eating all of it...you've lost a lot of weight."
"But Pinkie..." she protests.
"But nothing." I reply.
"Fine." she murmurs. She eats a small mouthful then another and another. Soon she's finished the whole tub.
"Good call Pinkie." she says, giving me a small smile. I feel happy, glad I got a hint of the old Dashie back.
Hopefully it lasts.