There’s gotta be someone. Think, Joy. Think.
There’s gotta be someone. Think, Joy. Think.I walked through the halls, scanning faces. Racking my brain to remember if any of them said they were going the fest. Lots of my friends had given me props for my article, saying the concert sounded epic, but when asked if they were going, the answer was always the same.
A big fat no.
“Hey, Frankie!” I waved and jogged to catch up with him.
He turned. “How’s it going?”
“Still looking,” I said.
He shrugged. “Got nothing, chickee. And I asked. Sorry.”
“Aww. It’s all good. I’ll figure something out.”
“Maybe you could sell your ticket.”
“To the event of the year? No friggin’ way!” I hit him with the back of my hand. “Do you know how long I saved for this? Hell or high water, I’m going.”
“Okay.”
