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T he doorbell rings while I’m on my living room floor in child’s pose. I don’t get up, instead rocking forward to stretch further on the floor with my palms pressed to the fake hardwood above my yoga mat.

“You have a key!” I yell, knowing that at this time of night, it probably isn’t Patrice. Not that she isn’t that desperate, but I’ve decided she’s an anti-vampire who fears the night. Given the fact Em had warned me earlier and they texted me to make sure Mexican food was acceptable, I have a pretty good idea of what’s about to crash through my front door.

Sure enough, I hear the key in the lock and with a click, the door opens and gets pushed inward. From this side of my couch, I can’t see the door, so I just sigh and relax further into child’s pose to ease the ache in my spine caused by my bad posture and the way-too-long drive.

“You look so…live laugh love down there.” Madalyn’s voice is unimpressed as she walks by, not stopping until she’s dropping at least three takeout bags and two grey plastic bags onto my kitchen counter.

“You don’t want to know what I think you look like,” I grumble, still not quite awake even though I’ve been up for over two hours. Somehow I dodged the HOA visit I’ve been expecting for my garbage can being three inches from the curb, and when I woke up stiff as hell, I decided it was time to pull out the yoga poses that were ingrained in me for years.

Ever since a shitty car accident gave me compression pains in my lower back and have stuck around like bad memories. Shifting back on my hips, I give a little grumble at the burn, before finally sitting up and back on my heels. “Hello,” I greet at last, flipping my hair back from my face and grinning up at my two best friends. My television is on Catfish , but Em is quick to swipe the remote from the coffee table and go to my list of streaming services to pick something different. It had only been background noise anyway, so I’m definitely not upset about it. I get to my feet, eyeing the bags before glancing at Em and Madalyn. “How much food did you get?”

“You eat like an entire army platoon,” Em points out sweetly, looking up at me with narrowed, sky blue eyes set under dark bangs. They told me recently that as kids, she and Mads were mistaken as sisters quite a few times, and with their matching black hair and different shades of blue eyes, it’s still easy to see why.

I’m the odd one out, with auburn hair currently swept back into a ponytail that brushes my shoulders and dark hazel eyes. Whereas their skin is flawless perfection, a spattering of freckles that have lightened over the years are still starkly visible over my nose and cheeks.

“I’d argue if I wasn’t already in a mood,” I huff delicately, heading over to the counter to peek into the bags. Madalyn scoffs and starts pulling out the contents, so I take that as an invitation to do my part. Within minutes, we have a veritable buffet of food on my long kitchen counter; there are takeout boxes with a burrito for Em, taco sampler for Mads, and chicken nachos for me.

“Wow,” I praise, brows raising as I snag a chip. “They actually remembered to leave off the tomatoes this time. How progressive of The Pink Cactus .” I’ve always felt like the tex-mex restaurant nearby sounds a lot more like a cheesy Mexican themed bar than a restaurant, and the pink dancing cactus of their brand on the bags does little to assuage that belief.

“Well.” Madalyn rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t give them too much credit. We checked and there were extra tomatoes on it. You’ve had a shit week, so we had them remake it.”

“We would’ve had them remake it, anyway. But Mads was a lot more insistent on it this time,” Em remarks from the couch. “Hand me my food while I rent a movie. Actually, like, three movies.”

“Three movies?” I repeat, turning to look at her over my shoulder. “How long are you guys staying?”

“For the length of three shitty comedy movies, apparently,” Madalynn snorts. “We’re having a marathon, in case that somehow was unclear in your clearly sleep deprived state.” That gets another eye roll from me as I grab another nacho, but she goes on without prompting. “Remember when we were younger and shitty movie marathons were the answer? Yeah, we’ve decided that’s the answer to your problems tonight.”

My shoulders roll nervously as I work to dispel some of the tension in them, and I sigh. “I don’t have any problems,” I inform both of them a little warily as I try to take my mind off of the funeral I spent the week in Florida for.

God, I shouldn’t have gone.

No matter how much my estranged parents begged over call and text, I should’ve done what my friends suggested and held my damn ground. It wasn’t like anyone wanted me there, anyway.

“You know…” Mads reaches out to grab my hand before I can pick up another nacho, her hand is tight around my wrist as I wiggle my fingers with an irritated groan. “You can talk to us. We like to think we’re your best friends and all.”

“Four years going strong,” Em agrees from the couch. “Ever since Michigan.”

“You mean ever since I dragged both of you out of a frat house that was about to get raided by cops, drunk off your asses,” I grouse, nose scrunched at both of them as I push down any feelings about the last week. Out of sight, out of mind, I tell myself. Or…however that works.

It can only hurt me if I let it, and I don’t intend to do that.

“Seriously, though.” I finally shake free of Mads to grab another nacho, eyeing the two thawing pies and two twelve packs of soda on the counter. They really did set us up for the most sugar and salt fueled night ever, and the consequences of all of this in my system sure will be…interesting tomorrow. “I’m fine.”

“Are you though?” Em asks, prompting me to glare at the shorter girl on the couch. My gaze flicks to the TV, where the selection screen for Wedding Crashers is up and ready to go. I can’t even complain. It’s one of my favorite comedy movies, for all that I don’t really enjoy stupid comedy that much.

“I love you both like the sisters I never wanted. But have I ever, in our four years together, had a breakdown session and told you all my inner, deepest feelings? Ah!” I hold up a hand before Mads can speak. “Have I done so while sober?” The only reason they know about my shitty family history at all is because of alcohol, which I now usually stay away from, so I don’t end up sobbing on the couch to either of them about my problems.

No matter what a therapist might say, I prefer my problems to stay in a bottle, in a box, under lock and key. No matter the circumstance.

Before Mads can argue with me, I swipe a cherry Dr. Pepper from the box and the container of nachos. “Thank you guys,” I tell Em, collapsing on my inherited and very nice sectional beside her. “There’s totally nothing wrong that sleep won’t fix, but this is pretty great.”

“I miss doing shit like this.” Madalynn sits down on my other side, handing Em the box of tacos and her own can of soda. “Remember how obnoxious we were in college?”

“Remember when we got a cease and desist letter from the RA for taking over the movie lounge so you two could stage a sing-a-long night with Disney movies?” I ask dryly, swiping the remote to hit the play button.

“I remember when Madalyn got a cease and desist and tried to rope us into it.” Em snorts, picking up a taco in her long fingers and manicured, fake nails.

Their bickering, friendly and light-hearted, picks up as the movie starts. Not that I mind. I could listen to this all night, and I can also repeat this movie line for line. It’s not like I need to actually listen to what’s going on.

Truthfully, this helps. Their friendship is more helpful tonight than I’ll ever admit, thanks to my stubbornness.

And they’ve never steered me wrong before. Not in a way with real-life consequences, anyway. So if my two best friends want to have a movie marathon that ends with either them leaving at some ungodly hour or just sleeping over on my couch, I really don’t mind either way.

Maybe them being here will keep the nightmares away.

“Where’s the remote?” As the credits of The Hustle play on my screen, I crack open my third can of Dr. Pepper. Normally I don’t drink this much soda, but it’s a special occasion. That’s what I’m going with, anyway. “I have a request for our next movie. I haven’t seen RV in at least five years, and as Robin Williams is my spiritual guide in all things, I think it’s time.”

“Was your spiritual guide,” Em points out from beside me, her eyes on her phone. I’m not offended. She can’t focus on one thing easily, and just because she’s doing something else doesn’t mean she’s not spending quality time with us.

“ Is ,” I repeat. “Don’t you dare speak ill of the legacy of Robin Williams in this house. Now give me the remote.” I reach out to her, fingers curling, only for Em to roll her eyes up at me and frown.

“I have it,” Mads says from my other side, her legs kicked out on the sofa and her head on my shoulder. She sits up with a huff and gets to her feet to grab the leftover trash from the table. “But also, I have a better idea. I need a movie break, and you’re frowning a lot.”

“I always frown.” Handing her my empty soda can, I glance toward the remote on the far end table, wondering if I can make a grand swoop for it. Or if I care to try that much. “What’s your idea for this interlude? Soft music? Dancing? Ordering more food? We haven’t even cracked open the pie yet.”

Which, now that I’m thinking about it, sounds like a really fantastic idea. Em must think so too, because she shoves to her feet and walks to the counter to tear open the boxes of pies that have hopefully de-thawed enough for us not to break our teeth on them.

“Don’t ask me why I was thinking about this the other day,” Mads begins, dumping the few dishes we used into my sink and tossing the trash in my kitchen garbage. I don’t get up from the sofa, but I drag my legs up under me and fix her with a confused look. “Before we met you, when Em and I were in high school, we downloaded a few prank call apps. They’re like apps you can call from to disguise your number,” she explains, immediately making me tilt my head in disapproval. “Don’t look like that, okay? It’s really not a big deal. It’s lighthearted fun.”

“ Is it ?” I ask as Em glances wearily back at us. “Like, is it actually? I feel like I’ve seen a lot of police procedurals about prank calling and it’s never just lighthearted fun.”

“We’re not murdering anyone, Kai.” Mads’ voice is brittle and unamused. “Anyway, the other day I was thinking about it, and I went looking online to see if the apps we used still exist. They don’t.”

“Shocker. Almost like it’s not that kind of—” I begin, but she cuts me off smoothly.

“There are new ones now. Apparently better. Some have built in recordings where you just put in the number you want to call, but I’m not interested in that. We used to have the best time with it.” She walks back over to the couch and grabs my phone from the table before I can stop her. “Look.” Handing it back to me, she shows me the app store screen for Prankr , an app to do exactly what she’s just said.

“Was it actually fun? Didn’t you piss people off?” I ask, directing my question toward Em. She shrugs and gives me a soft, almost rueful smile.

“We never made it that big of a deal,” she admits. “We never made it seem serious, or anything like that. Most people knew what we were doing the second they picked up. They’d either hang up or play along.”

While that sounds not quite as bad as I was expecting, I still shake my head in disbelief. “And you want to do that now ? We’re adults. You guys are older than me, you should be the mature ones.”

“By a year,” Madalynn remarks, eyeing me flatly. “There’s not a lot of difference between twenty-two and twenty-one, Grandmother. Come on. Three calls. One for each of us. It’s stupid, like going on those chat roulette sites and ending up paired with weirdos or other people looking to just mess around.”

That doesn’t seem fun to me either, but I doubt she wants to hear it. Still, I really don’t want to argue with her. Especially since I know once Mads has an idea, she’ll hold on to it like a dog with a bone. Reluctantly, I download the app, shifting to curl my legs up under me. “This seems like the worst idea ever,” I tell her. “Promise me we’ll watch RV after this?”

“Cross my heart,” Madalyn assures me.

“Hope to die,” I mutter automatically in response.