Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Tibby was stacking boxes of tampons. “Are you looking
to get a job at Wallman’s?”
“No. I just feel bad I wrecked that deodorant display.”
“Antiperspirant,” Tibby noted.
“Right,” Bailey said. She started stacking. “So, do you ever
take the smock off? Or do you wear it around the clock?”
Tibby was annoyed. She couldn’t take much more
mocking about the smock. “Would you leave the smock
alone?” she asked testily. She was tempted to bring up
the needlepoint. Tibby’s mother used to do needlepoint.
Bailey looked pleased. “For now.” She pushed her hair
out of her eyes. “Can I buy you some ice cream or something
after your shift? You know, as thanks for not stealing
all my money?”
Tibby didn’t feel like hanging with a twelve-year-old.
On the other hand, she didn’t feel like she could say no.
“Sure. I guess.”
“Great,” Bailey said. “What time?”
“I get off at four,” Tibby said without enthusiasm.
“I’ll come by,” Bailey offered. She turned to go. “Are
you just being nice to me because I have cancer?” she
asked over her shoulder.
Tibby considered this for a moment. She could lie
some more. Or not. She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Bailey nodded. “Okay.”
Tibby quickly learned the ground rules with Bailey. It
wasn’t hard. There were only two of them: 1) Don’t lie.
2) Don’t ask her how she’s feeling.
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