Yours Wickedly, Sierra
I had complete faith in her.
"Oh, I used to be a ballerina." I heard her tell Betty one night after work.
"Ballerina?" Betty asked. "Like the Swan cracker?"
"It's actually Swan Lake and The Nutcracker," Sierra corrected.
"Whatever," Betty replied. "The club is much better."
"If you count the walking STDs," Sierra muttered.
The hairbrush in my hand flew past them, clattering against the wall. Both turned to me, filled with shock. I glared hard at Sierra.