The Night Before Finals

A braying startled me from my well-earned sleep. Fumbling for the switch to my bedside lamp, I glanced at the clock before stumbling for the door.

As I guessed, the noise was coming from Gabi's room.

I didn't bother to knock as I shoved the door open. Gabi was sitting on the floor in the lotus position, making a sound that could only be described as a cross between a corgi's bark and a moose in rut.

“Knock it off,” I snapped, turning off the wailing sitar music coming from her iPod dock.

Gabi blinked in surprise. “Is there a problem, Miranda?” she asked dreamily.

“At three in the morning, oh, yeah.”

“I bet you mean the laughing yoga.”

I just stared.

“It is so awesome. You, like, laugh while meditating. It totally frees up your chi to flow through all your chakras.”

“I really don't care what flows where,” I said. “You need to stop that. You're scaring me, and you're probably not doing much for the neighbors.”

“Be careful with that,” Gabi protested as I crushed the smoldering joint she had balanced precariously on the edge of a dirty plate. “That's an Indonesian cigarette.”

“Really?” I snarled. “And what besides Indonesians is in it?”

“I'm telling Mom,” Gabi hissed.

“And you're going to tell her what?” I hissed back. “About the partying, the smoking, the cutting classes? I warned her that you were not ready to go to college, even if you got to live with me instead of living in the dorms.”

“Mom doesn't like it when you're mean to me,” she pouted.

“Well, we'll see what she says,” I snarled as I stomped back to my room. “I can't wait until we get home at break!”