Billie's Misguided Mission

Billie, bless her cotton socks and perpetually tangled hair, was a force of nature. A force that, in Laura’s current predicament, felt less like a gentle breeze and more like a full-blown hurricane armed with glitter and questionable life choices. Laura watched, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach, as Billie, armed with a mission statement she’d scribbled on a crumpled napkin, surveyed the bustling cafeteria like a general before battle.

“Operation: Operation Get Marcus to Notice You (For Real This Time),” Billie declared, her voice a little too loud, a little too cheerful. She jabbed a finger at the napkin. “Phase One: The Strategic Encounter. We need to engineer a moment. A moment so… *charged*,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “that he can’t ignore you.”

Laura’s face flushed. “Billie, no. We agreed. No more ‘strategic encounters.’ The last one involved me tripping over a rogue soccer ball and landing face-first in Mrs. Henderson’s prize-winning petunias.”