Starfire(6)

“I miss Keith,” I said. “He’s in Italy now, doing something with his life.”

“And you’re here with me. Poor you.”

“He’s riding around cobblestone streets on a little scooter, I just know it. Ugh, the Italian girls are going to be all over him. He’ll have to beat them away with a breadstick.”

“Breadsticks,” Shayla said, rubbing her stomach. “I’m so hungry, I could eat tofu wieners.”

Just then, Golden called out that she was done in the shower, and I could take my turn.

Shayla looked down at my laptop, frowning. She clicked, then typed furiously for a moment, then frowned some more.

“What is it?” I asked. “More bad stuff about Dalton?”

“Yeah.”

“Was there a Pizza Sluts sequel?”

“No.” Her voice was high and strained, almost like she was asking a question.

I tried to grab the laptop from her to see, but she yanked it away and clicked the button at the bottom to pop out the battery.

“You’re killing me!” I wailed. “Now I need to know what you read! I’m burning with the heat of a thousand suns to know what it was!”

“Too bad. I’m hungry for pancakes and bacon, and… it was nothing at all. I just took the battery out so you’d have your shower and we can all go eat.”

I got up and started toward the bathroom, giving her a squinty-eyed look to let her know I didn’t believe her.

“Fine,” I said. “Murder my laptop. I’ll just ask Dalton when I see him.”

“Maybe you should give him some space.”

“We’re friends now. Friends help each other in crisis.”

“Yes, but…” She stood up and flicked at the heart-shaped balloon, which had lost some helium and now floated three inches below the ceiling. “Get in the shower before I go Low Blood Sugar Godzilla on your ass.”

Heeding her warning, I rushed off to do as I was told. (You don’t mess with Low Blood Sugar Godzilla.) The other girls had gone over the five-minute limit, and my shower was on the chilly side, but the cold water woke me up, and I’ve always liked how goosebumps make your skin feel tight.

After showering, as I was drying off with a big towel, I noticed that the small hand towel was missing from the rod next to the sink. Golden must have used it to dry off her petite body after her shower.

The realization made me scowl at myself in the mirror. The thing about accepting your own fabulous size is it’s not a one-time thing. You have to accept your body over and over again, every time some little thing happens to remind you that life isn’t fair, and other people don’t walk around with the same curves and creases you have. Some people can dry their little bodies off with a fucking hand towel. And what do you do when that reality hits you in the face? You smile at your beautiful face in the mirror and tell that girl you love her, big bath towel and all.

~

The three of us went to brunch at Pancake International. It’s a little like the International House of Pancakes chain of restaurants, but all the furniture was sourced from yard sales, none of the dishes match, and they only have six laminated menus, so each table has to share one. Actually, they’re nothing like IHOP, except for serving pancakes.

I ordered the Elvis in Paris, which is crepes with peanut butter, bananas, and honey; bacon on the side, and… heaven help me but just talking about it now makes my stomach rumble for more. I’m not even going to tell you what the other girls had, because you’ll go insane. Let’s just say that while the restaurant lacks in menus and decoration, all is forgiven when they wheel over the bubbling chocolate fountain.

We were done with our plates and I’d ordered a mocha refill when Shayla pulled out her phone. Golden and I laughed and pointed at her.

“Screw you guys, it’s a stupid rule,” she said.

I shrugged and pulled out my phone, since there was no need now to keep ignoring the message alerts.

Shayla had broken our little dining etiquette rule first, so she would be covering the tip portion of the whole meal, and now I was free to check Instagram and the other Usual Suspects.

A message from Adrian popped up first.

Adrian: There aren’t enough five-dollar bills in the float, so I need you to come over and do a run to the bank while it’s still open.

Me: I think not.

Adrian: Then come take over for me and I’ll go to the bank.

Me: Just put the “Back in Ten Minutes” sign up.

Adrian: But people won’t clear out of the store! They have takeout coffees and they’re all comfortable. We should get rid of the chairs.

Me: If we don’t have chairs, they just sit on the floor and lean on things. Trust me, chairs are better.