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Waverly didn’t look up from the book she was reading. “Does it?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” She turned the page, stuck a bookmark in it, and then closed it. “So? How did it go?”
I grinned. “It was great.”
“Yeah? So did Savage freak?”
“Nope.”
“Dang.”
“You wanted Savage to fight Duke?” I asked with a snort.
“Not really. But you were so convinced it was going to happen.”
“I was wrong.”
She put her hand to her ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite hear you. What was that?”
“Hey, it’s a school night. Why aren’t you in bed?” I demanded.
“Seriously? We’re doing that now?”
“Nah. Just getting you off my back. What are you doing tomorrow after school?” I asked, plopping down on the couch next to her.
“My schedule is wide open, actually. Why?”
“I have nothing to wear to Doc and Boxer’s wedding. And I don’t think you have anything either—since Angel took off with all of your fancy outfits.”
“She probably sold my clothes for cigarette money,” she said glumly.
“It’s a safe bet. She probably sold mine for scratch-off money. Anyway. I was thinking we could go to Folson’s.”
“Folson’s is a department store.”
“Yep.”
“With full prices.”
“Also yep.”
“Meaning I won’t have to piece together an ensemble from thrift stores.”
“Waverly?”
“I like my thrift stores,” she defended. “I get to be off beat and eclectic. The moment I start shopping at department stores, my whole reputation goes out the window.”
“What reputation would that be?”
“The reputation that I’m the badass girl from the wrong side of the tracks that pulls herself up by her bootstraps.”
“Yeah, I guess you can’t be that girl if you shop at a snooty department store. But what about me? I have nothing to prove and I want to wear something new that’ll make Duke follow me around like a puppy.”
“He’d do that even if you wore sweats.”
I stared at her in surprise.
