MARISSA
Marissa smiled at the ferocious sound of Dane's voice. He'd been in a bad mood since they'd left the TeenCenter. Shopping for make-up and clothes didn't improve his disposition, either. She leaned against the closed door to listen.
"I'm going with Miss M."
"Don't you think it would be awkward for Brent and Marissa to have you there scribbling down their every move?"
She imagined Tuesday's grin was unrepentant. "This is the best job I've ever had."
"This is probably the only job you've ever had."
She'd better save Tuesday. Marissa patted her long curls—courtesy of her new rollers—and opened the door. Both men in the hallway turned toward her.
She cleared her throat. "What do you think?"
Tuesday's whistle was long and low. "You clean up real nice." He held up his legal pad and pen. "I'm ready to write shit down."
"Tuesday." Dane's voice held a warning.
The boy rolled his eyes. "Stuff, okay? I'm ready to write stuff down."
