A Nice Fling is Hard to Find

2:10 A.M.

Well, that didn’t work out as planned.

I shimmied down the bunk bed and then snuck over to her backpack. Which was unlocked. And which was also red and covered in designer labels. Instead of flags, Penny with a Y decided to sew I ♥ Juicy patches onto her bag. She’s a citizen of Bloomies.

I got down on my hands and knees, unzipped it and began feeling my way through her clothes. And that’s when I heard:

“Lindsay, what are you doing?”

I froze. Penni with an I was awake and even in the dark I would see her glaring at me.

“I’m uh . . . looking for a tank top. It’s so hot.”

“But that’s not your bag.”

“What?” I feigned confusion. “Whoops! It’s so dark in here I can’t see anything.”

“Why would yours be under our bunk bed?”

Excellent question. “I thought I put it there.”

I don’t know why I was making excuses to her, when it was her friend who (99.9999% sure) stole my stuff.

Once I removed my hands from inside her friend’s bag, took out a tank top from my own (kind of had to), and returned to my sleeping bag, Penni reluctantly stopped glaring at me. Although first she double checked both her and the other Penny’s bag and locked them both.

And here I am. Writing. With my flashlight. Again.

In case you’re wondering—my toe still hurts. And so do my boobs.