“And wrong.” Alice adds. She makes a display of leaning in and bringing her nose near Sammy’s pants. As expected, her head was swiftly pushed away by the subject of her ribbing. Regardless of being rebuked, our blonde friend went on to chuckle teasingly. “I smell something strangely.. chemical..”

“Yeah, feminine wash, smart ass.” Sam rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you wish.” Alice smiled evilly at Sam. “I’m pretty sure it was the moth balls inside your dank, neglected pussy.”

I think I choked on something imaginary.

In front of me, Alice and Shane laughed heartily.

“Careful Samantha,” Alice continued in between chortles. “If you don’t air it out, your stale vagina would stink like your grandmother’s musty cabinet – cobwebs and all.”

Sam briefly turned red before coolly stuffing her hands inside the pockets of her pants and averting her gaze to the painfully dull scenery of the courtyard – purposely ignoring us. It was something she often did whenever we poked fun at her too much and she wanted us to stop. This one loved to kill our mirth with silence. And most of the time, it worked.

This morning though, it wasn’t her infamous silent treatment that got Alice to quit her ribbing.

Curious enough, it was something as whacked and unexpected as a big o’l pink backpack lying at the middle of the brick path.

Alice didn’t see it fast enough – probably cause up until the last minute, she was too busy walking backwards and giggling herself silly at Sam’s expense. But her timing for accidents was excellent, I should say. Cause just when she pivoted in place, her left foot connected with the gaudy pink monstrosity and she instantly stumbled and lost her footing. The only thing that saved Alice from tasting pavement was Shane’s lightning fast reflexes.

“Ow! What the fuck?!” Alice had shrieked when her face got dangerously close to the bricks, saved only by Shane grabbing hold of the back of her blouse.

“Karma.” I heard Sam mutter beside me. If her face weren’t so stoic, I would think she was gloating.

The owner of the backpack, an awkward-looking freshman in childish pigtails, sidled up to Alice and spewed out a chain of apologetic words in warp speed. She was tall and of normal built – but her head was strangely small; too small perhaps, that her whole body seemed grossly disproportionate to her tiny head. She reminded me of one of those odd-looking birds on TV. An ostrich maybe? Or perhaps a flamingo since she seemed to be fond of bright pink things? Anyway, I watched this human bird girl beg for my friend’s forgiveness with a sneer on my face. Pathetic, I thought. Alice barely listened to her rambling, she was too preoccupied with rubbing her leg, her face contorted in discomfort. I didn’t like what I saw before me, and so predictably, my temper roared to life in a snap of a finger.