Jackie asked without preamble as she met Amanda at the lobby doors of her newspaper’s headquarters. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Ready for our Wednesday lunch?” Jackie rolled her eyes. “I know you want to get all adventure-ish and explorer-y and whatnot, but really. That’s not an adventure. That’s torture. And not the fun kind.” “I think I figured that out on my own,” Amanda said. As they walked, Jackie continued to stare at her. “Right. What’s really going on?” They arrived at Fat Slice pizza, each getting a slice of fat, gooey, calorie-laden excess with the ironic large diet soda. “What do you mean?” Amanda asked, in her best innocent tone of voice. “You’re lying. Or at least fibbing,” Jackie said, poking Amanda in the shoulder as they walked down the sidewalk toward the Square. “You’re keeping a secret.” Amanda had trouble swallowing her bite of pizza—guilt felt like a lump in her throat. “Um…” Jackie’s eyes went wide. “You got some!”
