I'd never been this distracted before. He had black, curly hair. He was from the band. A musician. He couldn't be very responsible. He was probably way too old for me. Like, thirty. Forty. No. No one but Johnny Depp can be forty and look that good. His shirt was so messy, but it flattered him... totally. I watched him pick the strings on his bass guitar, just in time with the music.

"Emma? Emma. Hello?"

I snapped my head and faced my best friend, Bree.

"Oh. Sorry."

Bree turned and faced the band.

"Did you realize when you hired these guys that they were going to be totally delicious?" She blurted out.

I rolled my eyes as I handed out fliers to passerby, "Bree, you're nineteen. Can't you sound just a little more mature than me?"
Bree groaned, but quickly smiled at the little boy in front of her. "Cows are cool, not clothes," She proceeded to brainwash him, "Want a sticker?" She stuck a cute little cartoon cow sticker on his shirt.

The little boy laughed and ran over to his mom, who was talking on her cell phone and wearing a leather jacket. She'd obviously just come out of the leather store we were holding a demonstration at.

"Yeah, you're really getting through." I laughed.

"Anyway..." Bree quickly changed the subject, "Why did we hire a band, anyway? We've never done it before."

"Hello? Media. Here. Watching us." I smiled and waved at a local camera, pointing to the cartoon cow on my shirt. The cameraman gave me a thumbs-up sign and a wink. I looked back at Bree, "I've been doing these things since I was twelve, and I've never gotten this much attention from the media. This store's brand new. I knew there'd be more people than usual here. And more media."

Bree laughed, "More than your Wendy's protest?"

I rolled my eyes again. "And that's how I learned my lesson."

Suddenly, my sister pulled up in the parking lot. I knew it was her- there were probably only about two VW bugs that were pink in the entire state of California.

"Cover for me, would you?" I handed my fliers to Bree and walked out to my twin sister's car.

"Hello, dear." Emily lowered her sunglasses theatrically and peered at me over them.

"What're you doing here?" I demanded.

"Aww," she leaned over her car, "Am I embarrassing you at your wittle protest?"

"You're embarrassing yourself more than you're embarassing me," I retorted, "But the last time you came to my protest, all you did was flirt with the Wendy's cashier!"

Emily laughed, "Oh, yeah. But I was fourteen, Emma. I didn't know any better."

I snorted, "Well, I did."

"And you're six minutes older than me!" She replied, "You're so mature, and I'm so... little!" She threw her head back, as if this were tragic.

"We're the same height, dumbass."

"Careful! If my ass is dumb, so is yours." Emily gloated.

I sighed, holding back my anger. "Emily, if you're planning to stay to be a sarcastic, whiny, melodramatic little bitch- like you usually are..." Emily beamed, "Then you're leaving. If you want to act your age and help out..."

Emily laughed, "I'd love to, sis, but I have a prior engagement."

"Yes, we don't want to keep your thumbs from twiddling," I scoffed, "That's such a priority."

"Emma!" she whimpered, expecting me to feel sorry for her, "I just so happen to have a Shakespeare workshop today. I just dropped by to see how this stuff was going."

"Well, it's terrific. A real turnout." I turned on my heel and ran back.

"Stop running!" Emily yelled after me, still peeking over her sunglasses like Sue Lyon in Lolita, "You're always running!"

She was right.

Bree stared me down as I approached the front table, where I resumed handing out fliers.

"You're so committed for a sixteen-year-old," she shook her head, "When I was sixteen, I acted like... in the moment. I didn't care about politics or animal rights or abortion anything. I acted like... like your sister."

"Well, it's a good thing I didn't know you then." I smiled at her.

"No, I'm serious," Bree protested, "I mean, is Emily a Republican or a Democrat?"

I laughed, "Emily? She's a Republican. She says she's following the teachings of the great Schwartzenegger."

Bree laughed hysterically. But Emily wasn't a Republican- she didn't know politics. I mean, I knew, as a Democrat, that I was liberal, but she was liberal to the point of not caring. She didn't have the right to call herself a Republican. She probably didn't even know what stem cell research was.

"Cows are cool!" I yelled, "Cows are not clothing!"

"Hey," I heard someone say behind me. I spun around to face... that guy. From the band, "You runnin' this thing?"

"Uh- uh... yeah." I smiled up at him, "You guys are really terait."

"Terait?" He repeated.

"I mean- Terrific. And great. And..." I cringed, "I'm Emma."

He laughed, "I'm Craig. I'm the bassist."

I just about died. Craig. What a hot name. And talk about a hot guy.

"Yeah... I noticed." I smiled.

"I'm Bree." Bree interjected beside me, "My friend thinks you're hot."

My face turned redder than cows in the slaughterhouse, "Bree, come on." I said. How juvenile.

"Hot?" he repeated, "Haha, you're hot too."

I nodded nervously. "Very."

"Yup."

An awkward silence proceeded.

"So. You a Democrat?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yeah, totally. I like, fit the democrat profile to a T."

He laughed, "Hell, yes."

"Yeah."

"Hell, no. Democrats suck." Someone said behind me, "Follow the teachings of the Great Schwartzenegger."

Craig raised his eyebrows, "Sisters?"

I nodded, "Yeah. Uh, twins," I turned around, "Emily, why are you still here?"

Emily lowered her sunglasses.

Craig laughed at her, "You look like Sue Lyon. Doing that, I mean."

Emily gave him a million-dollar smile. "Which version of Lolita is your favorite?"

"Adrian Lyne. Not to be a pervert or anything. But it’s pure poetry." he said.

"Aargh!" Emily groaned, "The Lyne version isn't poetic at all. It's just... pornographic. He could have done so much better. The Stanley Kubrick version is so much closer to the novel."

I was surprised my frivolous little sister knew all this. But I didn't think it would impress Craig.

"Ah, that's true," Craig agreed, "But it wasn't Kubrick's fault. It was 1962. But I know what you mean... it's the same with Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh, totally." Emily swung her purse around. She was such a little girl sometimes.

"Yeah," Craig went on, "The 1994 version's totally centered around the sex. Zefferelli was genius."

"You read the play?" Stop flirting, Emily.

"It's one of my favorites." Craig gave Emily a million-dollar smile.

"Folio or edited?" Emily asked.

What was she talking about?

"Folio! It's so much easier." Craig said.

"I know! All these people edited it to make it easier, and it's ridiculously harder to read."

"Um. Bree. Back to the protest." I said.

Bree was on the verge of cracking up, but I stayed serious.