Shortcake
Before Gemma could even ask what it was, a fine, cold mist of body glitter rained down over her shoulders and hair.
“Freddy!” Gemma sputtered, waving her hands through the sparkling cloud.
“The belle of the ball has to sparkle, Em,” Freddy said matter-of-factly. She looked at the can, shrugged, and then aggressively sprayed herself in a thick cloud of shimmer. “Besides, a lot of glitter never hurt anybody.”
Laughing, Freddy grabbed her phone, marched over to the door, and pulled it open, flashing a dangerous, glittering grin over her shoulder, come on, let’s go wreak some havoc.”
Bab Populer