Excerpt:

“…and then there was the time I saw Father Pat take you to the tunnel to get more wine,” asserted the fired-up pinto of a girl. Hands on her hips Peggy narrowed her eyes. “I saw your face and your messed up buttons when you came back.”
Paul glanced warily through his long bangs. “I-I-I, didn’t think anyone noticed,” he mumbled.
“Dammit, Paul, do you hear anything I ever say? Sure I noticed,” she shouted to the sky. “And I know I told you that was when I told my mom about being creeped out by Father Pat.”
“Yeah, fat lotta’ good that did. Obviously nobody cares.”
Dead silence.
“Gee, thanks, you jerk,” Peg sighed.
The girl looked up to the heavens, shook out her dark mane and strode back to the log she had been sharing with her friend. She tossed a few more pebbles into Otter Creek, then gently touched Paul’s shoulder.
The ragged teen jerked his shoulder away like her hand was a hot coal.
“I’m sorry to be so harsh, bud. I just wish you could believe that someone does care—I care.”
Paul’s shoulders began to shake beneath his shock of greasy brown hair. Peg knew better than to touch him again, not right now.
Then she declared, but softly, “And it’s also obvious nobody in their right mind can count on parents or teachers or anybody St. Theresa’s to keep us safe.”
Paul exhaled like he was releasing the weight of the world. He knew better than to argue with his only friend. There was a reason she had earned her playground nickname of “Hector Protector.”