“That sounds great,” I said. “Famous moms? I’ve always thought it would be fun to dress up like Marge Simpson, with all that blue hair?”

“Well, that’s not decided yet,” Kendra said, smoothing a lock of her hair, then tossing it over her shoulder. “I had a really great idea, in fact. I thought we could be forest animals.”

Pia burst into laughter. “Animals?”

Irritation cut across Kendra’s face, but it was gone before she noticed me staring. “We live on Ivy Woods. The woods, get it? Woodland creatures,” she said. “We could be sexy woodland creatures. Like a squirrel, a fox, a fawn...”

“A skunk,” Pia said, nudging me with her elbow. “Bettina, you could be a skunk and just wear that awful patchouli perfume you use.”

Kendra glared at Pia. “Grow up.”

I imagined myself in a puffy bear costume, staring through a jaw. Or worse, stuffing myself into a cheap furry sweater dress with a tail and trying to maintain my dignity. The last time I’d dressed in a group costume was in graduate school, at a house party just a few miles from Ivy Woods, somewhere on the other side of campus. I’d been engaged to my then-boyfriend, Brad Fontaine, and we’d all gone as characters from The Wizard of Oz. Brad had been the Cowardly Lion. I’d crafted a Good Witch/Bad Witch costume, sewing half of a black dress to half of a cheap gold princess dress, decorating half of a black witch’s hat with sequins, and crafting half my face in green and half with sparkly eyeshadow. I’d always been just a little too clever back then, hadn’t I?

“Anyway, we can chat about it more,” Kendra added.

Just then, one of the Woodard receivers caught a long pass, and the whole section erupted in cheers. When we sat back down, Pia whispered to me, “There won’t be any chatting about other ideas, trust me.”

I laughed, and Kendra turned to me. “Shouldn’t you be on lollipop duty by now?”

“Not ’til fourth quarter,” Bettina broke in, leaning forward.

I was surprised she knew, but I nodded to confirm.

“Okay, just making sure you haven’t shirked your duties.” Kendra winked. “Oh! By the way, Bettina has something for you.”

“Right,” Bettina said. She set down her cup of steaming hot chocolate and pulled out her purse, handing me a business card. She spoke so softly that I had to tip back to hear her. “This is a friend of mine at The Washington Post. I told her you were looking for a job, and she said to call her.”

I clasped the card in my palms, reading the black letters in the famous font. This was a far cry from the community newspaper, even the Inquirer. “Wow, thank you.”

Bettina shrugged. “No guarantees. I don’t know anything about their education editor or if they’re even hiring.”