So beat I don’t need Tiger Beat

I locked up the health office door and dragged my butt up the stairs. Anita was flipping through a Teen Beat magazine sitting on the floor with her back against the wall between our two rooms.

I slid down the wall and plopped down beside her. I looked at her and she gave me a tired smile. She closed up the magazine and rested it on her lap.

“That was a day.” I said as I lay my head against the wall and let out a long sigh.

“It was a doozy.” Anita agreed.

“No joke.” I shook my head. “Thanks so much for looking after the kids. I really really appreciate it. It was lovely to have a bit of a break. Did they behave for you?”

OOOOOH! Tiger Beat!

“They got into their pajamas OK but they made me read the articles on the Hanson Brothers aaaaand The Backstreet Boys before they would get into bed.” Anita indicated towards the cover of the magazine. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh man! I’m so sorry!” I laughed. “Was it pure torture?”

“It wasn’t the highlight of my day…” Anita quipped.

“No, eh? What was the highlight of your day?”

“It’s a toss up between having to help clean out the Deer Hut cabin this morning ooooor run all over camp looking for the missing camper. Not sure.” Anita smirked.

“I can see how you would have a hard time deciding. I on the other hand can tell you right off what the highlight of my day was.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“Relaxing at the cottage with a glass of wine. No contest.”

“Ewww. Please don’t mention alcohol!” Anita covered her mouth and made gagging sounds.

“Ooops. Sorry Anita.” I apologized. I had forgotten that she had experienced a rough night after some underage binge drinking.

“It’s OK. I learned my lesson the hard way.”

“That was a tough lesson. Hey girl…I have got to get to bed. I’m wiped.”

“OK. Did you want to read this issue of Tiger Beat?” Anita waved the magazine at me.

“Mmmmm. No thanks. I will let you keep that.”  I struggled to get up on my feet.

“But it might help you fall asleep.”

“I’m so beat I don’t need Tiger Beat! See you tomorrow.” I said.

“Night Anne.”

“Mmmbop, scooby doo, do wop. La la la la. Mmmbop, scooby doo, doooo!” I sang to Anita.

“Uh, no, Anne. That’s not how the song goes.”

I waved and shrugged as I closed the door to my room.






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