That was the name of the nail polish Casey was using to paint my toenails. It was a ghastly color, a brownish army green with a pearlescent tint. But I consoled myself that it was better than the black licorice she’d painted her own toenails with. I was more into pretty pink polish with names like Lovey Dovey and Jamaica Me Crazy, but Casey’s truth or dare question had hit far too close to home for my liking and I’d taken the dare instead. So I was letting her paint my toenails Baby-Shit-Brown—er, Armed and Ready. Anyway, it wasn’t like nail polish remover hadn’t been invented yet. “So, truth or dare?” I slurped Peanut Butter Capt’n Crunch from my spoon, crunching happily. I’d won our cereal-eating contest—Casey had barely made it through her second bowl—and this was my prize. The entire box of Peanut Butter Capt’n Crunch was mine—all mine! I hadn’t really eaten the stuff since we were thirteen or so, back when we used to do sleepovers like this on a weekly basis, but so far I wasn’t disappointed with my re-acquaintance with it.
