Katie’s head snapped up from her Multivariable Calculus textbook as her phone rang, the sharp tone interrupting her nap.
Without bothering to check the caller ID, she picked up the receiver, rubbing her eyes with her other hand.
“I just saw the news,” said the female voice at the end of the line.
Any remnants of sleep that clung to her vanished instantly, and Katie sat up, her eyes wide.
“Oh god, I was on the news?” she asked incredulously.
“Yup!” Katie could imagine her twirling her hair with a finger as she spoke to her. “They’re calling you ‘The Fun-Sized Savior,’” she added, her voice filled with laughter.
Katie groaned and slammed her head back into her textbook, hitting it repeatedly.
“Now I know why you never wanna go partying with me, cos you’re too busy saving the world. A superhero and engineering major? You have the world on your shoulders,” the voice teased.
“Shut up, Ally, you twat,” Katie groused back. She lifted her head once more, pushing her curly black hair out of her face. “I never want to go partying with you ‘cause you’re a crazy drunk and I love my sleep more than I love taking care of you.”
“Hey! I resent that!” Ally replied. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re bailing on me tonight. I’m not going to drink tonight, I promise – I’m the damn designated driver anyway.”
Katie rolled her grey eyes to the ceiling before responding. “The fact that you’re the designated driver doesn’t assure me.”
“Katiiiiiiieeeeee, come ooooooooooonnnnnnnnnn.” Queue the whining.
She ignored her friend at the end of the line as she turned on her laptop.
“Don’t ignore me!” Queue the indignation.
“If you don’t agree with coming, I’m invading your place in ten minutes.” Queue the threats.
Katie blinked at the amount of friend requests and notifications she had on her Facebook dashboard. Her eyes fell to the first post on her wall, a badly recorded video of her heroic actions that occurred only four hours ago.
She heard keys jingling on the other side. “I’m serious, Katherine McGaw! I’m zipping up my boots right now!”
Katie inwardly sighed. If Ally got into that car, her apartment building wouldn’t know peace for another week. She had no choice.
“Fine, I’ll go to the stupid bar with you,” she accepted reluctantly, already regretting her answer.
Ally squealed into the phone, and Katie heard her drop her keys onto her trusted coffee table.
“Yes!” she celebrated happily. “I knew you would see it my way eventually.”
“More like forced into your way,” she thought, blowing an irritating strand of hair from her face.
“So what are you wearing?” Ally asked.
“Jeans and a shirt,” Katie answered automatically, distracted by comments on the video of her.
“What?!” She winced at the high-pitched tone of her friend. “You’re not wearing jeans and a shirt to your first night out in months!”
“Well, what exactly do you expect me to wear? Booty shorts and a crop top cut so high my boobs show?” she replied sarcastically.
“Of course not, that’s for the beach,” Ally replied, not missing a beat.
Katie rolled her eyes once more.
“What happened to that cute black skirt we bought some time ago? With the little buttons –”
“Some time ago? We bought that when we were shopping for prom, Ally. That was like two years ago,” she said incredulously.
“So? It’s not like you’ve grown since then anyway, Miss Itty Bitty,” she retorted.
If Katie could have smacked her best friend through the phone, she would have.
“Wear it with your ankle boots, those are hella cute on you – oh, and the 80’s looking red silk top. You’ll definitely turn heads with that outfit!” Ally continued.
“Yes, my fashion goddess. Whatever would I do without with you saving me from fashion blunders,” she said, dutifully pulling the articles of clothing from her closet.
“You’d go about looking like a mess, of course,” she said, her voice smug. “And don’t worry about your hair; we’ll tame that beast when I come over to pick you up. And use make-up! I know you can, so you better. I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty, alright? Perfect, love ya!”
If she wasn’t so used to Ally’s abrupt way of ending phone calls, she would have called back to yell at her for a bit.
Her eyes fell to her Multivariable Calculus and her notebook, both looking terribly lonely. With a sigh, she closed them shut. “Sorry,” she said to them, “when a finance major comes calling, you agree. They don’t know the word ‘no.’”