Lily slips her plastic apron over her head, making her dark hair stand up in all different directions. Before I think twice about it, I reach behind her head and fix her hair so it’s no longer catching on the plastic. She blinks up at me, her eyes slightly wider than before. “What?” I ask. She rips her gaze away. “Nothing.” We both know she’s lying, but I don’t push, instead holding out the permanent marker so she can write my name across the front of the apron. When it’s my turn to do the same, I’m questioning if I can make it through the four letters of her name without making a fool of
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