The Friday afternoon meeting of the Sigma Sigma Literary Society ended with the usual hum of animated chatter and laughter. Julie and Amanda, having engaged in a spirited debate, exchanged playful barbs and banter. Now, arm in arm, they made their way toward the exit, ready to gather their things and head home. As they stepped out onto the bustling street, Amanda suddenly broke the silence.
“You know, Julie, we never did get around to the candlelight exploration of the Boarded-up House like we planned last fall,” she said, her voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and excitement.
Julie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, right. But we never had enough money for candles. We were pretty strapped.”
“I know,” Amanda said, her eyes gleaming with determination. “But what if we bought some now and went over there tomorrow? We could clean up a bit, set up the candles, and experience it just as we imagined.”
Julie looked at Amanda with surprise. “Amanda, it’s almost the end of the month. I’m down to my last fifteen cents, and I’m sure you’re not much better off.”
Amanda shook her head, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “I’ve been saving up for a while. I have two dollars and fifty cents. It’s not much, but I’m willing to spend it on this.”
Julie stared at her in disbelief. “You’re really willing to spend that much on candles? That’s quite extravagant!”
“They’re good quality candles,” Amanda said firmly. “If we’re doing this, we might as well do it right.”
Julie reluctantly agreed, and they stopped by a small shop to purchase the candles. To Julie’s amazement, Amanda insisted on buying premium wax candles, despite their high cost of nearly five cents each. Julie tried to persuade her otherwise, but Amanda was resolute.
With their purchase in tow, Amanda switched topics abruptly. “Don’t forget you’re coming over to my house for dinner tonight. We’ll study afterward, so we can have the whole day free tomorrow. And bring your music—maybe we’ll have time to practice that duet.”
“I’ll be there,” Julie confirmed, and she headed to her own home while Amanda carried the candles.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Later that evening, Julie arrived at Amanda’s house with her books and music. The Spragues were relaxing in the living room, so the girls set up in the dining room, spreading their study materials over the large round table. Amanda settled into her usual, disciplined routine, while Julie seemed unusually distracted.
“Let’s start with geometry,” Amanda suggested, opening her textbook to Proposition XVI. “Here we go, Angle A equals Angle B.”
Julie, however, was in one of her “fly-away” moods, and despite Amanda’s efforts, her attention kept drifting. “Angle A equals angel B,” Julie muttered, doodling wings on her diagram.
“Julie, stop that!” Amanda said sharply. “You’re making it impossible for me to focus.”
Julie pretended to be surprised. “Why does it matter what we call them? Angles, angels—same thing in the end!”
Amanda’s patience wore thin. She tried to redirect. “Let’s just stick to the facts. Angle A equals Angle B.”
Julie, ever the tease, continued her antics, making irrelevant comments about every geometrical statement. Frustrated, Amanda slammed the book shut.
“It’s no use!” she exclaimed. “You’re clearly not in the right mindset for studying geometry. I’ll handle this on my own Monday morning. Let’s switch to algebra. You usually like that. Can you focus on it?”
“I’ll try,” Julie said, feigning seriousness. “I’m putting in my best effort.”
Amanda began working through an algebra problem, reading aloud, “A farmer sold 300 acres—”
“Speaking of interesting problems,” Julie interrupted, “I heard a peculiar one recently. Can you solve it?”
Amanda, relieved by any sign of engagement, asked, “What’s the problem?”
Julie presented it with exaggerated gravity. “If it takes an elephant ten minutes to put on a white vest, how many pancakes would it take to shingle a freight car?”
Amanda’s frustration reached its peak. She threw down her pencil. “Julie Kenway, you are impossible! I wish you’d go home!”
Julie, stifling a giggle, replied, “I won’t go home, but I’ll leave you to your work if you prefer.” She moved to a distant rocking chair, pulling out a newspaper she’d pretended to read earlier. She kept an eye on Amanda while pretending to be engrossed in the paper.
A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by Amanda’s scratching pencil and the rustle of pages. Julie’s gaze wandered over the room, and she noticed something unsettling. Her teasing tone vanished, replaced by a more somber note. “Amanda?”
Amanda’s response was cold. “I don’t want to talk right now. I wish you’d just go.”
“Alright, Amanda,” Julie said quietly. She packed up her things, casting a last, curious glance at Amanda before leaving.
Later, Amanda put away her study materials, feeling a twinge of regret for her sharp words. “Julie was just impossible tonight,” she mused. “I hope she’s not truly offended. She’ll probably forget about it by tomorrow morning.”
As she looked for the weather report in the newspaper Julie had been reading, Amanda realized it was missing. “She must have taken it with her,” Amanda thought, annoyed. “Typical of Julie.” With a sigh, she headed to bed, the mystery of Julie’s abrupt departure lingering in her mind.