I wasn't entirely sure why I let Sabrina "teach me how to girl." Her words. Not mine.
Maybe guilt from last night. Or maybe I was tired of moving through my own life like a deer on ice skates.
Either way, I ended up cross-legged on her dorm floor at 9 AM. Boxed in by makeup I couldn't name and Sabrina's lethal level of optimism.
She stood over me. Hands on her hips. Principal energy.
"Alright. We start with walking."
I looked up from the pile of what I was 90% sure were weapons. "Walking. Yeah. I've got a handle on that one."
"Sure," she said. "If your goal is to star in Grease: The Sequel." Snap. "Up. Walk."
I groaned. Then stood and took a lap.
Sabrina pinched the bridge of her nose. "That physically hurt me. Walking isn't just feet. It's posture. Poise. Balance—"
"It's walking,
