I scrunch up my face, squeezing my eyes shut tight and dropping my head back. My mind swims with all the things on my schedule right now. It’s for sick kids. How can I say no to sick kids? I choke down an exhausted sigh.

“Sure, Hannah,” I answer. “I can manage that.”

“You’re the best, Jessie!” she coos before hanging up.

I make it home, flop down on my bed and crack open my books. A few more hours knocking out homework and I’m finally done for the night. I slip on my favorite flannel pajama shorts, despite them being too short on me, and an oversized ratty T-shirt. Dead on my feet, I manage to drag myself to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I realize I didn’t close the door after Michelle pops her head in. Even in the sanctity of our sorority house at almost midnight, she looks put together, as always. Her cute matching pajama set hugs her petite body, her long black hair is glistening and a light coating of mascara makes those upturned brown eyes pop. She tries harder than she needs to. She’s got an exotic beauty tempered by a natural sweetness that makes boys take notice. I watch her hovering behind me in the mirror, the unassuming smile on her delicate face a dead giveaway I’m about to do her a favor.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she asks innocently enough.

I narrow my eyes at her. “I’ve got a study group on Saturday. Then I’ve got a family brunch Sunday. And we’ve got that volunteer event for the Children’s Hospital on Sunday afternoon that I’m now making a few dozen cookies for. And sometime between all that I’ve got two term papers to write,” I ramble off my schedule, already tired. Michelle nods behind me, biting her lip. I make the mistake of asking, “Why?”

“Nothing. You’re busy…” She leans against the sink next to me and sighs.

“Never too busy for one of my sisters,” I tell her earnestly.

She pounces. “Will you come to the party with me on Saturday?”

Okay, I’ll admit, I walked right into this one.

“The one at the football house?” I ask.

She nods, dropping her chin to her chest and staring at me with those big puppy-dog eyes.

“I thought you and Monte were over?”

“We are. Beyond over. The guy’s a jerk.”

I shake my head and stumble back to my room, Michelle hot on my heels. “Then why would you want to go to a party at his house?”

“To show him that I’m over him. Duh,” she answers with a sassy head wobble. She plops down on my bed, flipping through my statistics textbook. “Besides, the season is almost over. It’s going to be one of the best parties of the year.”

I take the textbook from her and stack it with its many friends on my desk. “I don’t know,” I answer, pulling back the covers and telegraphing my deep desire to go to sleep. Michelle doesn’t take the hint.