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If that is supposed to be a joke, it is just coincidentally the worst possible joke she could have told.
I feel Spencer stiffen next to me. He probably thinks the mystery has been completely solved. If she weren’t already handicapped by her ridiculous outfit, he would probably tackle her to the ground.
“I’m totally fine. Totally fine,” I interrupt.
“Mmmmmm yes,” she singsongs. “How do I find you here?”
I realize she’s asking me why we’re in the Forrester Gallery in some kind of weird grammatical way. Oh good. Some new way for Seattle to make communication next to impossible.
“I was thinking I would like to book this gallery for our collaboration class,” I answer. “Nothing major.”
“Of course it’s something major,” Spencer bristles, twisting to glare at me.
“Oh, ha-ha, I mean it will be something. It will be big. But it’s nothing like Seattle does, is all I meant.”
Seattle inhales and raises her eyebrows, pleased that I have offered her the acknowledgment she so richly believes she deserves.
“Yes, well, can’t wait to see it!” she chirps. “I’m sure it will simply bedruzy.”
“You’re sure it will simply be what?” Spencer starts defensively, edging ahead of me the way he does.
Seattle tries to raise her hand, but has limited range of motion.
“You know… druzy,” she repeats irrationally. “I mean it will be great. That’s all I meant.”
“Then why not say ‘it will be great?’” he persists, annoyed. “Why not just say what you mean?”
I should probably stop him, but I am really enjoying this.
“It will be great!” she squeaks.
“It will!” he agrees, really loudly.
“Okay!” she barks out. “Jeez! I don’t know what I did to you, but can you call off your dog, Lindy? I’m feeling a little attacked, here!”
Spencer shoots me a look, and I realize it has to be said. I have to make the words come out loud.
“Seattle, have you been taking pictures me?”
She shakes her head irritably and shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, so?”
Spencer’s mouth pops open.
“When did you turn into such a prima donna, is what I want to know,” she barks at me. “You are getting to be so high-maintenance.”
“Iam high-maintenance?” I repeat, scoffing. “You must be kidding me.”
“No, you are!” she sulks. “I have really tried my best with you, okay? I’ve shared all my stuff. I even tried to get you into Ansel’s gallery, didn’t I? And all you do is look down your nose at me. Well, I am sick of it!”
My chest tightens as a bunch of words crowd to get out. I can’t say them all at once though, so I try to make sense of it.
“You took pictures of me!” is all I can say.
“I take pictures of everybody!” she yells back.
“Sandy!” comes a booming voice from the far corner of the room.
Seattle looks mortified.
