Me: And they aren't making you go?

Casper: Long car rides make me queasy. They don't make me do much that I don't want to do anymore. Which means we should totally do something while they're gone.

Me: Like what?

Casper: Sleepover. Rent some bad movies. I haven't been out of my house overnight in like a year.

Sleepover.

I've had Casper and Adam over several times now, but never overnight. We wander downtown or hang out here for a few hours before I have to take them back to the light-rail station. I haven't had a sleepover in...actually, I've never had one, come to think of it. There were a few nights I crashed at Corey's place, but I always got woken up by her parents and shuffled off before it could be considered a ‘sleepover.' I guess I have the room. And I don't really know how to tell Casper no.

So I tell her sure, great idea, I'll buy the snacks. Which is sort of a given anymore, because Casper can't exactly ask her folks for money when she's supposed to be at home resting, and Adam's mom hardly remembers he exists.

Friday evening, I pick them up from the light-rail station. Despite her grinning, Casper looks incredibly drained. And it's only going to get worse, I realize, because whatever treatment they've been trying obviously isn't working. I don't comment on it, though. Even I'm not so socially inept as to greet her with you look like shit.

We pile into the van and head back to my place with a detour to the store to pick up sodas and snacks. When we march up the steps and into my apartment, it's with potato chips, ice-cream, pizza rolls, Oreos, and soda. I'm going to wake up three hundred pounds heavier in the morning.

I order us a pizza again because I don't have much in the way of actual food and Adam, according to Casper, loves the place we ordered from last time. I can't help but be envious she gets all these little details out of him when he hardly speaks to me, but then I remember how we sat on the balcony and told each other how sad we are, and I think it's a fair trade.

We get through half a movie before dinner arrives. Then we sit in a circle on the middle of the floor, eating, and Casper says, "Can you put on some more of that Queen music?"

Adam and I exchange looks. I shrug. He shoves a pepperoni into his mouth and scoots over to the turntable to put on Night at the Opera. Casper bobs her head a little. She's picking at her food more than eating it. I think something is on her mind.

"You didn't even know who Freddie Mercury was, and now you're requesting his music?" I ask.

She shrugs. "I went home and listened to some things online. I like it."

"There might be hope for you yet."