Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

an interview. What are you guys, the Coen brothers?”
she snapped.
“Carmen, just be quiet and cooperate for once in your
life.” Tibby said it in a way that was irritable but not
mean, if that was possible.
You antagonize people, Carmen reminded herself. You
will grow up to be old and bitter. You will wear lipstick way
outside the lines and shout at children in restaurants.
“Fine,” she said. She changed into the Pants, then sat
and studied Bailey as she started to get her camera equipment
in order. The girl was dressed almost exactly the
same way as Tibby. She was mini-Tibby with a mike and
a boom. Her purple undereye circles even matched
Tibby’s. Carmen briefly wondered why Tibby was hanging
around with a twelve-year-old, but whatever. It
wasn’t Tibby’s fault all her friends had gone away.
The room got quiet. Tibby fiddled with the lights.
Both moviemakers got deadly serious. She heard Bailey
gasbagging into the mike like Dan Rather minus the testicles.
“Carmen Lowell is Tibby’s beloved friend from
when they were . . .”
This was making Carmen uncomfortable. “Um . . . you
know, Tibby and I are fighting right now.”
Tibby cut the camera. Bailey looked up in irritation.
She batted the fight away with a flick of her wrist. “You
love each other. Tibby loves you. It doesn’t matter.”
Carmen glared at her in disbelief. “Hello? You’re
twelve.”
“So? I’m still right,” Bailey shot back.
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