Counting Sheep

“It never works,” Ally said, twisting in her bed.  She wore fleece pajamas pants and a buttoned top while laying in her friend’s bed.


“Trust me, I do it all the time!” Jennifer said from the floor next to her.  She lay on a spare blanket with another covering her.  Her pajamas were silk – a luxury she paid for with her own money.  “My mother got me into it when I was little.  She always thought it was hilarious but swore it would help.”


“It’s just dumb,” Ally told her.  “A kid’s thing.”


“I’ll start,” Jennifer said.