I don't own these characters, in fact I can barely afford to feed my Pepsi habit
Call Waiting 4
Willow
dropped the dictionary on the desk, and dropped a kiss on
the top of Tara’s head. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,
sweetie,” Tara smiled up at her. She riffled through the dictionary, found her
page, then went back to her essay.
Willow
stretched, yawning. There was a knock at the door.
“Ooh,
pizza!” Willow exclaimed. She grabbed her purse and opened the door.
It
wasn’t pizza.
A
tall man with a red uniform and red hat grinned uncertainly. He was holding two
sheets of paper, a tambourine, and a flute.
“I’m
sorry to bother you,” he said hesitantly, “but I’m desperate. I’ve tried
all the rooms on this floor. I’m from the marching band. We’ve got a big
performance today, but one of our players is sick. Can either of you play the
flute?”
Willow
looked back at Tara, who nodded encouragingly. Willow thought for a moment, then
smiled. “Well,” she said, “This one time, at band camp. . .”
