“Are we almost there?” Reese asked, jostling me awake from my sleep.

Groggy and annoyed by his boyish behavior, I said, “I don’t care where we are.”

“Come on, Cree, wake up.”

I lifted my head and looked out the window. “I think we’re there.”

“I just hope Jenny’s here already,” Reese said, looking over my head. “I hate waiting.”

“And hate hearing you complain.”

“Last stop, Chicago, Illinois,” the driver shouted over his microphone.

Reese howled out a loud hurrah, sending my ears ringing. With his outlandish behavior, topped with the smell of gasoline and the incoherent chatter of the other passengers, even I would be relieved to be off this bus.

When we finally pulled into the depot, I was the one secretly nominated to carry both our suitcases. I felt like a porter as I watched Reese fly off the bus with nothing but a piece of paper.

“What’s that?”

“Well, could it be a letter?”

“Very funny, Reese?” I mean, who’s it from?”

“Just Jenny pledging her undying love for me.”

“Don’t listen to him Cree. Your boyfriend can be full of himself.”

“Jenny,” I shouted, turning to see her just behind us. I set the bags down. Mine, the heavier one landed on Reese foot. We embraced, squealing out our hellos while Reese howled in pain. Jenny and I both laughed at Reese.

“Hey, that’s not funny.”

Still laughing, I said, “Oh, yes it is, and that’s payback, mister.”

“For what?” he asked, still nursing his foot.

“For not being a gentleman,” Jenny said, let out a giggle. “Shame on you for making Cree carry your bag.” Pointing at him, “You should be carrying hers.”

“Okay, okay,” Reese said, picking up both suitcases. “Girls!” he fumed.

We walked out of the depot talking about our days at the Drell Institute. Reese and I had become best friends with Jenny. We were known as the three musketeers. Although it had only been a few months since Jenny moved to Chicago with her father, I was amazed at how much she had changed.

“So what’s with the make-over?” I asked her.