I turn to my left, to John. His dark brown hair dampens and sticks to his forehead. With his surly expression, you’d think a flock of birds just shit on his head. I can’t help it—I laugh. Really hard. It’s honestly like a raincloud has sprung and decided to trickle on his head. Ironic, yes. John latches his surly gaze on me and flashes an ill-humored smile. “What are you laughing about? I’m not the one wearing white.”
