"Okay, but get this, she named her baby Summer Rain," Amy whined.
"I don't know why it bothers you so much, I mean, celebrities name their kids stupid stuff all the time," I shrugged as I filed my nails, "Ask that girl named Apple."
"True. I would never name my kid anything stupid like that."
I rolled my eyes, "Pfft, in a few years you'll probably have a kid named Indie Pendant."
"Ha-ha, you're so hilarious," she said in a monotone voice.
"Anyway, I had a really good dream last night. I'm, like, still on a dream high," I laughed.
"What about?"
"So Matty Healy was my drug dealer, and Adam was a Jedi, and Michael showed up at some point and kissed Matty? I don't know. It was really odd, but I liked it," I rambled.
"Michael kissed Matty? I totally ship it," Amy giggled.
Michael suddenly appeared in my room, loose sweats hanging on his hips, and a snap back on his head.
"Who'd I kiss?" he asked, smirking at the two of us.
"Nobody, bozo," I said and flashed a sweet smile at him.
"I heard my name."
"No you didn't," Amy muttered quickly.
"Yes, I did," he argued.
"We were talking about Michael Jackson," I lied.
"Who'd he kiss?"
"Matty Healy."
Amy squeaked and ran out of the room. She was a terrible liar, and couldn't withstand even a small lie. It was funny, really, but I felt sorry for her. She couldn't be around people that were lying or she'd crack and end up spilling every secret she had ever been told. It happened to me once, and I found out something about Calum the volunteer that I could probably live without knowing.
"And you're lying, aren't you?" Michael asked as he took a seat at the end of my bed.
"No, she just ate the fish and got diarrhea. When you gotta go you gotta go."
"Are you serious?" he asked.
"Dixie Chicks serious," I said with a nod.
"Stop it," he groaned, but slipped in a laugh or two.
"Sorry."
"Okay, hey, you wanna go to arts and crafts with me? Luke said that they have scented markers," Michael said, a childish gleam in his eyes.
"Sure, I'd love to go to arts and crafts with you," I accepted.
"Good. Oh, it smells like rice in here."
"What? No it doesn't," I argued.
"Yeah it does."
"You're just saying that to mess with me," I mumbled as I got up out of my bed.
"Are you wearing that? I like it, but I don't think the shrinks will."
"What?" I asked, looking down at my body, becoming bewildered as Michael continued to stare at me.
"Get out!" I shrieked with a few small laughs, and a stream of filthy swears.
I certainly would not be wearing panties and a tank top to arts and crafts. After I scared Michael out of the room I pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt.
"Are you ready yet?" his muffled voice asked from outside of my room.
"Uh, yeah," I said, opening the door and locking it before we started to walk down the hall.
