Too Old For Slumber Parties
This pillow smells like Brook's shampoo. We're way too old for slumber parties, but I always invite her over anyway, and she usually accepts, but not every time. She's busy, you know? She has student government and newspaper and her volunteering stuff, so most of the time she comes over late, after she's finished at the Senior Center, and we just lie in the dark and talk until she falls asleep. She always leaves early, too. For track practice. And if she says goodbye I never hear it. She probably doesn't, because she's considerate like that. Even to people who don't deserve it.
She put her arm around me last night. It wasn't like she meant to or anything. I mean, she was asleep. Her hand was right here, on this ticklish spot below my ribs. I should have poked her and told her to get off, but she was way sad because one of her old guys at the Senior Center had died. When we were laying there, she told me how he liked for her to read him children's books, and that he always wore a hat like a newspaper guy from the 1940's, even with his bathrobe. It took her a long time to fall asleep after that. So that's why I didn't want to wake her up.
I woke up and, as usual, she was gone. She's busy. But I have an hour before homeroom so I'm going to lie in bed awhile longer and hug this pillow.
Because it helps me go back to sleep. Not because it smells like Brook's shampoo.