“DID YOU DO THIS?” she screamed.
She pointed toward her driveway.
“I swear, Christine, I will destroy you!”
I stared at her.
“Do what?”
“You know exactly what!”
“I really don’t.”
She jabbed her finger toward the street again.
“LOOK!”
I stepped outside.
Then I saw it.
And I nearly laughed.
Denise’s car was completely covered in white paint.
The hood.
The roof.
The doors.
The windshield.
The mirrors.
Even the headlights.
It looked almost exactly like what had happened to my car.
Except hers was white.
I covered my mouth.
Denise spun around.
“You think this is funny?”
“No,” I said, struggling to control my expression. “I just think it looks familiar.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You did this.”
“I was asleep.”
“That’s exactly what you’d say.”
I looked more closely at the driveway.
There were paint trays near the tires.
Two rollers were lying on the pavement.
