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“Yes! And that reminds me. I have to give back your

dress.”

Danica shrugged. “You can hang onto it for a while if you

want.” It was the dress that Quinn borrowed to wear to the

funeral because she didn’t own a black dress.

“The color looks terrible on me. So did the dress. It was

too tight and too short. Luckily no one said anything.”

“You wore it with black tights and a black sweater. No one

would have said anything. I thought it looked good on you.

What’s wrong with tight and short?”

“Ugh. Nothing for you, but you know that I hate that. And

I look terrible in black. You got dark hair and an olive

undertone while I got mom’s fair skin and sandy hair. Black

makes me look like I’m sick, it makes me so pale.”

“You’re making that up. I’m sure you own black pants or a

black skirt.”

“I do. Of course. For work. But I always pair that with

something bright.”

“I thought you looked good in the dress. You could keep it

if you want.”

“I don’t want.”

“Okay. Can you get it dry cleaned then?”

“Oh my god. Yes.”

Danica laughed. “I’m kidding. You don’t have to do that.

It’s one you can just wash and dry at home. But I bet that all

this time we’ve been talking about color and clothes, you

haven’t thought about you know who once.”

“We should give her a code name. Pain In The Hiney or

Buttudey Bollocks or something.”

Danica grinned, getting into it. “How about Dickhead