Lindsay and Gillian are best friends, both 15. They're walking to school.
Lindsay: I can't tell you.
Lindsay: I'm in shock. I'm out of my mind. I'm going to kill somebody.
Gillian: What are you talking about?
Lindsay: I saw her.
Lindsay: Her. My mother.
Lindsay: Oh God this is so gross. How could she?
Gillian: What? Tell me? I'm in total suspense.
Lindsay: This isn't a movie. This is my life. She has totally messed up my life.
Gillian: I'm just going to sit here and listen until you make some sense. He-llo-o?
Lindsay: My mother was in Starbucks. With a guy. And she was holding his hand. And they were laughing. He was wearing a turtleneck, a black turtleneck. And a backpack.
I can't believe it. A backpack. And he looked about 25. He was good looking. Then he fed her a bite of his croissant. I am so sick. I feel like throwing up.
Gillian: Are you sure it was her?
Lindsay: Down to the patent leather pumps. She is a fashion disaster and there she is with a guy. A guy. She's probably screwing him. I can't deal with this. How could she betray me like this? She's the one who always says I'm boy crazy and I'm spending too much time thinking about guys...and now this. And how she studied and that's why she's so successful, and makes so much money, even more than dad. I feel sorry for my father.
Gillian: Maybe she's having some kind of middle age breakdown. What's it called? Midlife crisis....
Lindsay: I don't care. She's giving me a crisis. She doesn't care about me.
Gillian: Just because she's doing somebody else doesn't mean she doesn't care about you. Maybe it's some kind of sexual problem, with your dad. Maybe your father can't...
Lindsay: Would you please shut up. You're supposed to be my friend. Okay, my best friend. You're supposed to make me feel better.
Gillian: Look I know you love your father, but maybe...
Lindsay: Maybe shut up. My father is a great guy. My father makes time for me. My father takes me out for hot chocolate every weekend and we sit and read the comics together. Probably while Mrs. Slut, CPA, is getting down with Mr. Dirty. What am I going to do?
Gillian: Don't say anything.
Lindsay: Shouldn't my father know?
Gillian: Why hurt him?
Lindsay: It'll hurt him more if he finds out later. Maybe she'll want a divorce. No way I'm going with her. No way.
Gillian: Don't worry about that now.
Lindsay: How will I be able to talk to her? How will I be able to look her in the eye? I can't. Can I sleep at your house tonight?
Gillian: Sure. But you'll have to face her eventually.
Lindsay: Just not now. I'm afraid I'll start crying. I don't want her to see me like that.
Gillian: God if my mother did that. I hate to say this...I don't want to rub it in...but I'm happy my parents are together.
Lindsay: Yeah, I wouldn't be so sure. Let's spy on your mother at lunch. See what she's doing. I wouldn't trust her.
Gillian: No way. She would never be with anybody but my dad.
Lindsay: That's what I thought about my mom. And now look. He's probably the boss's son or something. God. I'm sick. I'm really sick.
Gillian: So tell your dad.
Lindsay: How do I break it to him: dad your wife is screwing a 20 year old? I can't tell him. And what about Jason? He's only eight... if they get divorced, what's he going to do? His whole life will be ruined.
Gillian: Maybe not.
Lindsay: My life is already ruined.
Gillian: C'mon. Lots of kids go through this.
Lindsay: I don't care. I'm not them. I hate her. Oh God, I hate her. What a friggin' phony. A lot she cares about me.