A streak the color of pumpkin flies toward me as my head jerks up. The soft material hits me in the chest and I grab it before the sweater falls to the ground.
"You made us come here. The least you could do is pretend to look at the clothes." Marissa, my assailant, battles me with her gaze from across the clothing rack. She's a bit formidable with one hand resting on a popped hip, her head c****d in my direction, and those squinty eyes raking over me.
At least she would be if I didn't know her so well. Marissa is a kitten, all claws, but fluffy and distracted by shiny objects and string. "I'm pretty sure you made us come here as part of my therapy." I spot the silver sequined shirt right in time. "Here look at this." I pass the shirt in her direction.
Marissa's eyes light up for a momen
