I wake up the next morning to a pillow in my face.
“Get up!” Nora whacks me again.
“It’s Saturday,” I say groggily as I roll over and pull my sheets over my head. “Tiff’s still asleep. Let me sleep.”
“We’re going shopping. I want a dress for the dance next week. And you get to come with me, because we’re best friends, and that’s what we do.”
I groan. “I hate shopping.”
“You said you would come with me,” she gives me a pouty face.
“What? When?”
“Last night at dinner, remember?”
Oh. So that’s what I agreed to. “No,” I say bluntly. “I don’t remember. In my defense, I wasn’t listening to you.”
“Get up lo-ser we’re go-ing shop-ping!” She hits me with each syllable. “C’mon, please?”
“Ope, there’s that pouty face again.”
Nora widens her eyes.
“Stop that!”
"Pleeeeease? Pretty please with…”
"I'll go if you can put the right thing on that ice cream.”
“Raspberry Tootsie Roll Pops?” She suggests, grinning at me.
I huff. “I didn’t think you knew that. Fine, I’ll come, but I get to bring a boy to measure out the girliness and we get to stop for pastries somewhere.”
“Deal!” She replies so quickly it makes me think I forgot something.
“Wait wait wait no making me try on dresses!” I add as an afterthought.
“Too late!”
"Meh…” I roll my face into my pink pillowcase. Getting out of bed as I stretch, I dress in my ‘weekend’ clothes: pink shirt as usual and grey fleecy pants, and a violet sweatshirt as San Fran’s not really as warm as it’s cracked up to be. “I’m gonna go get Tom.”
"You’re gonna bring Tom dress shopping?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“You like him.”
“Wha – I do not! I mean, maybe a little, but that’s different.”
“OOHHHH!!” Nora whispers sharply. “You like him!!”
“No I don’t.”
"Yes you do!”
“No I don’t.”
“Do!”
"Nor, I’m not going to play that game!” I snap.
She laughs. “Fiiiine. Go get your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my – never mind.”
When I reach room 312, it’s Sam who opens the door. He’s wearing a shirt that reads, Some people just need a high five. In the face.
“Hey, get Tom. Tell him we’re going dress shopping.” I say.
His face falls. “And you’re not taking me?”
“Nope, sorry. Only Tom.”
"You like him, don’t you?”
“Who likes who?” Tom rubs sleep out of his eyes as he joins Sam at the door.
“Who likes whom,” I correct. “And no one likes anyone.”
Tom shrugs. “That’s the human race.”
“You’re coming dress shopping,” I inform him.
He squint-blinks at me. “Okay.”
Sam throws his arms up as Will joins them at the door. “I had the twin sister!”
“Had?” Will asks.
Sam blinks and shoves Tom out of the room. “Bye, dude!” He shuts the door.
Tom looks down at his flannel pants and Relay for Life shirt. “I’m in my pajamas.” He turns around and tries the door and mutters a nonsense word. “Locked.”
“No one’s gonna care.”
“I care.”
“I don’t. Pastries on Wilkinson.”
He perks up. “Fine.”
