My jazz hands were more like jazz hand, but I did it with extra flair. “Good morning!” I said in the most singsong and cheery voice as possible. Startled, Lily whipped around, but when her eyes fell on the plate, she smiled from ear to ear.

“Oh my gosh, is that supposed to be me?” she squealed as best as she could with a croaky morning voice.

“Who else has leg extensions like that?” I grinned.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you . . . literally.” She accepted the plate and checked out my food art. “I love it!”

“I’m so glad you do!” I couldn’t stop smiling. “Go ahead, take a bite.”

“It’s too cute to eat!”

Lily was beaming like the rays of sun filtering in our room. Granted, our window was facing a side street—and whenever you’re talking New York, that was like being in a canyon. But it was way brighter than with the curtains drawn.

If this small gesture left Lily less mopey than at dinner last night, I’d consider that a victory.

“Oooh, wait!” Lily put the plate down on one corner of a crowded desk. “Let me take a pic of it.”

I cracked up at all the snaps she took from what seemed like every angle.

“I think that’s enough.” I laughed.

“I want to copy this when I get back home. My parents should totally go with this type of presentation at the fro-yo shop.”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe for birthday parties?” I pointed to her.

“Right? Or for the younger dancers after recitals.” She pointed back.

“That’s brilliant!” I lobbed a throw pillow at her in my version of the happy slap.

“I know!” She hurled the pillow right back at me.

I backed up to the bed as nonchalantly as possible as I spoke. “And we can get Hailey to help come out with more artsy ideas because she knows a . . . TON!” I tossed a large pillow with extra oomph.

I barely had time to crack up at how spot-on my launch was, when that same pillow muffled my laugh as it boomeranged back to my nose. And with that, the pillow wars were declared. The arm strength and lung capacity it took to fling pillows, stuffed animals, and towels at each other while laughing was epic. At the end of it all, we lay on a cushiony heap, out of breath and holding our splitting sides.

“I’m finally hungry enough to eat food art without guilt,” she said. We cracked up again.

A few more foodie photos and lots of happy bites later, Lily and I took rush showers. We were dressed, packed, and picking up the pillow and towel mess when there was a knock on our door.

“Let’s go, girls,” said Riley’s mom’s muffled voice. “Time to head out.”

Our commute wasn’t far at all. All we had to do was take the elevator down from the lobby restaurant where we had breakfast. But thankfully, we were all very far from the mood most of us were in the night before. We couldn’t loosen up.