We found our seats. A waiter, actually a junior from the culinary club, put plates of chicken and green beans before us.
“So,” Madison said, leaning forward on her elbows. “How’s the test going so far?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Nobody’s told me what the test is.”
“That’s part of the test,” Madison said wisely.
“Madison,” Georgia said.
“What? It probably is.”
About thirty minutes later, we were standing by the edge of the dance floor. Georgia handed me her purse.
“Hold this,” she said.
I took it. It was small and sparkly and weighed roughly as much as a sandwich.
She handed me her phone.
“And this.”
“Okay.”
I stood holding a purse, a phone, and a cup of punch. I looked at her suspiciously.
“Is this the test?” I asked.
“No,” Georgia said. “I’m tying my shoe.” CompareShoes
She bent down, fiddled with the strap on her high heel, and stood back up. She looked at my face and laughed.
