The List

by Joanna Bolouri

that Spanish girl,’ Lucy interrupted. ‘What’s her name again?’ ‘Pedra. I’ve only met her once and called her Pedro by accident.’ She threw her coat on the bed near the window and turned on the television as I started to unpack, wondering why the hell I’d brought four pairs of shoes. ‘Are you wearing your green dress?’ I asked, looking at the plain black one I’d brought. ‘Yup. Although with my red hair, I look like a Riverdance reject.’ I left her, mid-Irish jig, and went