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“They’re back!!!!!”

I heard another voice scream in delight, her shrill voice floating outside the opened windows of the main building and spilling out to the narrow brick path where my friends and I were currently walking. The four of us shared a huffy, exasperated look. Great. Barely two hours back in this infernal school and already our adoring public was literally shouting our return from the rafters. You could always count on the student body to spread information like wildfire. They were like mini-Alice’s in the making in that regard. The girls here could claim they were above such pettiness due to their snooty upbringing, but they weren’t fooling anybody. They were gossip-loving fan girls and they knew it.

“You need a wingman.” Like a broken record, Alice told Sam for the umpteenth time since we left our classroom. And just like all the other times, my bestfriend pulled a face.

“I don’t.” Sam shakes her head vehemently, offended by our friend’s misguided yet well-meaning suggestion.

“You do. You need a wingman.” Alice insists. “I can be your wingman. Porter can be your wingman.”

“I can be your wingman too.” Shane volunteers.

“Nice try, vagina breath.” Alice rolls her eyes at Shane. “Sammy, don’t even think about asking this one for help. She’d taste the product before passing it over to you – and its kinda icky to double dip with friends. Anyway, as I was saying Samantha, you need a wingman.”

“I don’t!” Sam disagrees, her voice agitated – although with her face still carrying the same bored, expressionless look, you’d never notice her growing annoyance. She nudges me gently with an elbow on the side. “Tell her I don’t need one.”

“She doesn’t need one.” I come to Sammy’s defense, like always.

“Thank you.” She offers me a small smile in gratitude. She turns to Alice. “I don’t need a wingman.”

“Yes, cause what she needs is a miracle.” I quickly follow up, a teasing glint in my eyes. Sam’s expression sours while Alice and Shane chuckle at her expense. “What?” I shrug innocently at my bestfriend’s pointy glare. “It’s true! Tell me, when was the last time you hit on a girl?”