“Well, shit, it is Lizzie Young,” I teased, slipping through the pedestrian gate. Letting my schoolbag fall from my shoulder, I fisted the front of her flannel shirt and pulled her in for a hug. “There’s my girl.” “Yep.” Her arms came around my waist and she pressed her body to mine tightly. “Here I am.” And then she did something so incredibly Lizzie-like that I knew I had my friend back. She sniffed me.
