I once again pulled out the Caribbean body wash, spray, and lotion. I took my time and dried my hair, straightened it with a flat iron, applied some lip gloss, and checked my outfit in the mirror. I wore faded, low-rise flare jeans that I embellished myself with rhinestones, a white, long-sleeved, fitted T-shirt with angel written in silver letters across the front, and a cropped purple hoodie over it. I topped it off with a pair of large silver hoops. I had a serious seventies flare going on. We pulled up in front of Shannan’s house around three forty-five. My mother wanted to arrive a little early so she could chitchat with Mrs. Kirkpatrick for a few minutes. I rang the doorbell, and Shannan answered immediately. She was also dressed in a pair of faded, low-rise flare jeans, but with no embellishments. There was a tear across the right knee, and she wore a light pink T-shirt that said princess on the front. A hot pink newsboy cap covered her side ponytail. Hot pink hearts hung from her ears.
