Wake up!” I pounded on her door furiously.I stood in the foyer on our floor and tapped my foot anxiously. I’d been knocking for at least five minutes and refused to give up until she answered. Pressing my ear to the door, I heard the faint sound of the TV. Brittany needed background noise to fall asleep, but once she was out, she was practically comatose.Finally, she swung open the door. She scowled at me as she ran her fingers through her messy hair. “What the hell, Kayla?”“I’m late,” I hissed. I was too frantic to ease her into the revelation. I didn’t want to be the clichéd girl in crisis, but I had stumbled into the role regardless. As soon as I noticed the date on my wall calendar, my first instinct was to confide in my best friend. My only thought was she’d help me—wake me up from this nightmare.“Late for what? Isn’t it Sunday?” Brittany rubbed at her eyes.“No, I’m late.”Her expression darkened. “Oh crap, you mean that kind of late. Damn, Kayla, haven’t you seen that line fail a million times in the movies?”
