“Oh.” June hesitates. “I mean, that’s not terrible. I would usually broil mine in the oven and dip it in homemade salsa or guacamole, but it’s basically the same thing.”
Lexie shares a look with me and snorts. “Sure, it is.”
“Cinnamon toast?” June continues. “What’s that?”
My jaw drops. “You’re joking.”
June stays quiet.
Smacking June’s knee, Lexie says, “Youarejoking. Right?”
The girl looks like she was just caught in her underwear as she folds her arms, her eyes shifting from me to Lexie. “If I say no, will I be kicked out of the friend group?”
With a laugh, I shake my head. The girl is so sheltered but kind, it’s a little off-putting in the best way possible. “Nah, you’re safe,” I tell her.
“Cinnamon toast is toast, butter, cinnamon, and white sugar on top,” Lexie explains.
“Oooo, that actually sounds pretty good!” June says. I can’t decide if she’s lighting up because of Lexie’s description or if she’s happy because we aren’t kicking her out of the group. Little does she know, Lexie and I could use a few more girls in our corner. Besides, even if we had a hundred friends, June would still make the cut. Being anything but kind to a girl like her would be like kicking a helpless puppy. No bueno.
“I bet cinnamon toast would be amazing on Quasimodough,” June gushes. “What about you, Vi?”
“Anything with peanut butter, and she’s happy,” Lexie says for me. “Speaking of happy, what time is it?”
I check the time on my cell. “Six-thirty.”
“Well, shit.” She juts out her bottom lip in a pouty-face. “Seems my happy time is up. I should probably get going.”
“Where are you off to?” June asks as Lexie unfolds herself from the sofa.
With a sigh, she grabs her black leather jacket we found while thrifting a little while ago from the back of the couch. “I have to go to work.”
Lame. The necessary evil that is work. If we were smart, one of us would change jobs so we could see each other more since Lexie’s always working the night shift, and I’m usually at The Bean Scene in the mornings, but outside of our friendship, it’s what works best with the rest of our schedules. And besides, Lexie’s a night owl. There’s no way she’d survive waking up before noon.
“Want me to drive you?” I ask.
Sliding on her jacket, Lexie says, “I can take the bus.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, no worries.” She waves me off. “Stay. Keep educating June about what it’s like to be poor.”
With a quiet chuckle, I snuggle back into the couch, grateful I don’t need to play Uber for the night. Besides, Lexie’s not wrong. Our dear, sweet June really is clueless when it comes to what it was like to live in The Drift. Considering who her new friends are and how well we’re all clicking, she could use as much education as she can get. June was raised in a middle class family with two present parents, a childhood dog, and a house with a white picket fence out front and a garden in the back. To be fair, we’ve been tossing as many questions her way as she has to us, and it’s been fascinating to say the least.
“What do you do, Lexie?” June asks.
I stay quiet, watching Lexie as she pulls out her dark hair from the collar of her jacket so it waterfalls down her back. Sensing the same impending proverbial storm, Lexie gives me the side-eye. “Wanna pull out your phone so you can document the look on her face?”
“Nah, I’m trying to stay in the moment,” I quip.
June lifts a brow as her gaze bounces from me to Lex and back again. “What am I missing?”
Balancing on one leg, Lexie slips on one heel, then the other, as she reveals the truth in all its less-than-traditional glory. “I’m a dancer,” she announces.
“Oh.” June settles back in the seat. “You made it sound like it was going to be something crazy–”
“An exotic dancer,” Lexie adds.
“Oh.” June’s eyes bulge, and she folds her arms, nearly choking on her words. “That’s…that’s nice. How long have you been…exotically”—she clears her throat—“dancing?”
