Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

“Awww,” she said.
He shrugged happily. “That was a good one. You
wouldn’t want to win all the time.”
She nodded. She thought for a while. “Hey, Brian?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you teach me how to play Dragon Master?”
“Sure,” he said.
With the patience and enthusiasm of a true teacher,
Brian coached her all the way up to level seven, the first
dragon. Even as her curvaceous heroine perished with a
sword through her belly, he beamed with pride. “You’re a
natural dragon slayer,” he praised her.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling truly grateful for the
compliment.
“How’s Bailey?” he asked her, his face going grave.
“She’s in the hospital,” Tibby told him.
He nodded. “I know. I’ve been visiting her at
lunchtime.” He suddenly had an idea. “Wait a second; I
want to show you something.” He retrieved a dilapidated
backpack. “I got this for her.”
Tibby looked. It was a Sega Dreamcast machine and a
copy of Dragon Warrior, the home version of Dragon
Master. “It’s not as good as the real thing,” he explained.
“But it will keep her in practice.”
Tibby felt tears spring into her eyes. “She’ll love it,”
she said.
Later, as Tibby walked down Old Georgetown Road,
she carried a leftover high from her game of Dragon
Master. She was already thinking about level eight. It was
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