“How do you know all this?” Olive asked. “I didn’t even know that.”
Ramona waved her hands at the dining room. “Behold, the gossip hall.”
“You need a life,” Olive deadpanned. “Desperately. How’s that whole thing going?” She dug into the strawberry rhubarb pie, andRamona decided to let her evade the possible boy conversation for the moment.
“What thing?” Ramona asked.
Olive gave her a look. “The whole ‘get a life’ thing. Movies? Costumes?”
“Oh, are you trying to design for the movie?” Marley asked, finally coming to life.
“No,” Ramona said, which was the truth.
“She’s trying to not be such a sad sack,” Olive said.
Ramona frowned, a little stung. “I’m not a sad sack.” Though she realized knowing the dating lives of teenagers before her teenage sister in a small town was a wee bit sad.
“What’s the designer’s name?” Olive asked. “Noelle?”
“Shh,” Ramona said, flapping her hands at her sister. “Gossip hall, remember?”
“April said you found a way in,” Olive said, chewing and completely unfazed by all the buzzing townsfolk around her. “What is it?”
Ramona opened her mouth. Closed it. She was going to tattoo April in her sleep. Something awful like Tweety Bird or Mr. Burns fromThe Simpsons, right on her ass. And it would be awful because Ramona had no idea how to wield a tattoo gun.
“I didn’t find a way—”
But before she could finish her sentence, the door flew open, bells jingling, andher way inwalked into Clover Moon looking like she’d just barely escaped a pack of wild dogs. The cacophony of the dining room dimmed—not completely vanishing, but the volume definitely went down, all eyes taking in the woman in the doorway.
Dylan Monroe looked around, her shoulders clinging to her ears, but they dropped as soon as she spotted Ramona.
Ramona’s stomach flipped and flopped, and she pressed a hand to her diaphragm, as though the pressure could force it to calm down.
“Hey, good, you’re here,” Dylan said, approaching the counter. Her hair was in a messy fishtail braid, flyaways all over her face, and she wore a food-splattered apron Ramona would never have allowed into a dining room, along with a sweet pink top. Ramona assumed this was part of Dylan’s costuming, and she had to admit, the star looked pretty cute all harried and, well, small town–ish.
“Hi,” Ramona said. The conversation around them finally started up again, though Olive and Marley stared at Dylan unabashedly, their mouths hanging open. “How’d your first day go?”
Dylan groaned. “I need coffee. And chocolate. Preferably at the same time. Through an IV if you’ve got it.”
Ramona laughed. “I can take care of the first two.”
“That’ll have to do, I guess,” Dylan said, climbing onto a stool next to Olive, who was still gaping like a fish along with Marley.
Dylan turned her head slowly to look at them. “Hello. Nice costumes.”
“Holy shit,” Marley said.
Dylan pressed her lips together, suppressing a laugh. “Well…holy shit to you too.”
Ramona grinned. “Olive, Marley, this is—”
“Dylan Monroe,” Olive said.
Dylan pointed two finger guns at her, and Olive’s cheeks bloomed red.
“Dylan, this is my sister, Olive, and her best friend, Marley.”
Marley stuck out her hand. “I’m gay.”
