"I can never make this right," I murmur to myself. 

"WHAT?!" Daddy says. He can't hear me over the harsh winds blowing. 

"Nothing! Just thinking out loud!" 

We're going across Holland on our petite, little black bikes. I kept thinking about my fight with Kate, but it was beautiful out, and I had to shake it from my mind. Soaring (not literally) across a lang bridge, I saw a canal intertwined with two others and thought of Kate, Itzel, and I. We crossed over a steep hill,  and saw a perfectly wonderful patch of bright red tulips blowing in the winds. "Oh, how lovely they were," I recalled to mother once we got home, "They swayed to the left and right, every which way." I thought of the red tulips when I checked my phone for alerts on Wattpad. I looked over Mad Nyako (Kate's chapter in her About A Girl One Shots) and cried bitter tears of defeat. I pictured the tulips and they didn't seem so beautiful anymore. I imagined the blood of war between countries. I cried some more. My friends were the countries.