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“You know it, sister,” Colleen said. “I had class, couldn’t go.” Brooke fitted a cuff to Colleen’s right ankle, pushed the leather tongue into the buckle, and snugged it. A mistake, thought Brooke at the time, but Colleen had been determined to project a nonchalant face to the girls, some of whom had voiced second thoughts. “I need to check everything,” said Phoebe, attempting to maneuver around Brooke. And now Brooke watched a sweating ectomorph she’d nicknamed Mr. Skinny ride Colleen like a cheap suit. “I didn’t think Mr. Skinny was ever gonna pop,” Brooke said as she wiped Colleen’s face and neck. Suddenly, he stopped mid-thrust, said something Brooke didn’t catch, and dribbled spit on Colleen’s ΔΣΕ lavaliere.