Black everything? My underwear too?
Blood rushes to my face as I stare at the message, hypnotized by her question. That’s a loaded question I want to dive more into, but now is not the time.
Reese
Tris? Youstill there?
Yes. Sorry. Just wear a black outer layer and make sure it’s comfortable. Hurry up.
Okay, give me a minute, Mr. Bossy.
Soon she’s flying out of the building in a black Cliffys sweatshirt cinched tight around her head, only her eyes and nose visible. It’s another article of clothing that suspiciously looks like mine. Her baggy sweatpants are tucked into her black rain boots, giving her the illusion of the world’s most comfortable cat burglar.
She hops in and buckles her seat belt. “Ready.”
“You’re not going to ask me where we’re going?”
“I assumed you’d tell me on the way. You’re my ride or die, Tris. I trust you.”
I release a shaky breath, feeling better about my plans for the evening. This could either go amazingly or blow up in my face. Glancing skyward, I say a quick prayer for courage before I put the truck in drive and slowly ease down Main Street toward the ritzier side of town.
“You’re shaking like a leaf over there,” she says, lifting a brow. “Please tell me we aren’t really robbing a bank.”
“We aren’t. Nothing illegal . . . per se.”
Her head whips to me. “What does that mean?”
Mr. Sherman frantically waves from a side street, running up to the passenger window and knocking on the glass.
Reese cranks down the window. “Hey, Mr. S. Everything okay?”
“I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to offer up a donation.” He lifts a family size pack of toilet paper. “Where should I put it?”
I point a thumb over my shoulder. “Put it with the others.”
He tosses it in and gives a little wave. “Go have fun. If my back wasn’t so bad, I’d join you.”
“Join us?” For a second, her lips pucker as she thinks, then she stiffens in her seat. “Oh my goodness. How did I forget it’s April Fools’ Day?”
“Well, it will be in about fifteen minutes, but yes. I think you know where we are going.”
I shift in to park behind a large pine tree next to Gladys Monroe’s two-story mansion, watching Reese’s fidgeting hands.
“Goodness, I forgot how big this place is.” She stares at the darkened windows, chewing on her bottom lip. “Maybe we shouldn’t do it. We’re not kids anymore.”
“It’s up to you. But I will say, she did just cancel the Girl Scout Earth Day parade. She said they didn’t file the proper paperwork.”
Reese growls, her hands curling into fists. “That woman is an absolutemenace. Give me a roll.”
“Help yourself. They’re in the back.”
We both sneak out of the truck, closing the doors carefully and tiptoeing to the tailgate.
She peeks over the edge, her eyes wide.
“Tris... the entire bed is full of toilet paper. Did you buy all this?”
“These are all donations. Mrs. Monroe apparently has burned a bridge or two.”
