"Lindsay!!!!! Is there a particular reason that ALL my popsicle boxes are EMPTY?" I slammed the freezer door shut as I hollered throughout the small apartment. The kitchen was tiny and white, but it sufficed. Leastaways, when it was full of food. MY food.

I threw the empty boxes into the dark green trash can and glared at Lindsay as she skidded to a halt in the doorway, her hair messy and around her head in a froofy fuzz ball. Her baggy sweater and boxers with her old holy socks made her look a lot more comfortable than i was, ready to go to work in a women's business suit. My breifcase was sitting on the counter next to my huge mug of coffee.

"It wasn't me." She shrugged.

I raised my eyebrows at her in a gesture of "Yeah right. Sure."

"It was Jen!" Lindsay announced, pointing back towards the small blue living room at our roommate, curled up on the couch sleeping from studying til dawn last night.

"Linz..." I reached forward and pulled a popsicle wrapper off her shirt, where it had been clinging with the sticky melted koolade like substance. "I think not."

She smiled at me innocently and turned back to her room.

Glancing at my watch, I was alarmed to find it was already 9:30. I grabbed my breifcase and mug and made a mad dash for the door, flying down the stairs and into my car, giving it the gas for all it was worth.

Were mornings here always like this? But of course. Lindsay, Jen, and I stayed in an apartment in uptown Chicago, working for a local paper. Rather, Lindsay and I worked for the local paper. Jen was finishing up her last year of college in med school. We were really just biding our time until we could move to California where I could pursue my job in Computer Engineering, Lindsay could keep up the freelance writing she did, and Jen could be a M.D. And who are all these people?

Me first. I'm the youngest of the three of us. You would NOT know it if you watched us. I'm at a petite 5'3" and weigh about 15 more pounds than I probably should, but it's evened out right. I have a tendency to change hair colors rapidly. Two weeks ago my hair was soft black with ice blue streaks down the sides. Now it was it's original color, a brownish red, more red than brown. My eyes were brown at times but had green flecks that got really green when I was angry. Plus, I had a tan that I wished that Lindsay and Jen would get. Northerners. Pale as always.

Lindsay is shorter than me at 5'1" with fiery red hair, blue eyes, peaches and cream skin, and the lightest out of all of us. Damn her for metabolism. She is hyper and could bounce off the walls one minute before being completely sedated the next. It was something you had to get used to I suppose...But she is an amazing writer. She just has this talent to spin you off into an entirely different world.

Jen is a lot like me, only with blond hair and blue eyes. Her and Lindsay have this freakish obsession with Sailor Moon that I will never understand. She is the same height as me and everything. Plus, we're both evil and mature for our age.

Another common tie? We all like Hanson, the Beatles, and anything else that comes on our stereo.

Anyway, I pulled my black Rava into the parking lot and practically ran inside, eager to get in and get out. Sure, writing is fun and it's great but realistically? I detest staying at work. I prefer to be at home and lazy. Plus, since I had minored in Interior Design, I was more than eager to remodel the apartment arrangements today.

Sitting on my desk, the thin yellow sheet of paper blowing in the air conditioning draft, I found my assignment of the day and picked it up, taking a sip of my coffee as I read.

All the hot liquid spewed out of my mouth in a rush, splattering across my desk and dotting my papers.

Eagerly I reached for my phone and dialed the apartment number, hoping it was Lindsay that answered.

"Hello?"

"You would not BELIEVE what my new assignment is?" I chirped, unusually happy.

"Tasha?"

"DUH!"

"Okay. What is it?"

"An interview?"

"And you called me to tell me that because...."

"I got three backstage passes to a Hanson concert coz those are my interviewees." I grinned proudly, hearing her excited gasp on the other end of the phone.

"Tell Jen. I gotta go. Later." I hung up the phone after she said goodbye and gloated over my little accomplishment in the big world of writing. It was extremely lucky for me to get a chance to compose a big-deal article like this one and I was determined not to blow it.