“You’re going to forget 80 percent of everything you learn today.” Julie shifted around, trying to get comfortable on Lucee’s gecko-green bean bag chair.

“How do you know that?” asked Lucee, who was perfectly poised on a papaya-colored bean bag chair.

“It’s what they say,” said Julie. “It’s one of those statistics that you never know who said it.”

“Today I learned that Barbie’s last name is Roberts. I wonder if that will be one of the things I remember.”

“Depends on what else you learn today.” Julie rolled off of the bean bag chair and sat cross-legged on the floor.

“I also learned that there are 52 cards in a deck for the weeks in a year and four suits to represent the four seasons,” said Lucee.

“Maybe you should learn something you could use.”

“If I’m only going to remember 20 percent of it, why should I bother?”

“Because 20 percent of it is better than nothing.”

“What if I’m a brain surgeon and I only remember 20 percent? I’d be in the middle of a surgery and I’d go, whoops, forgot how to close up the blood vessels. Sorry, that wasn’t the 20 percent I remembered that day.”

“Good point. Don’t learn anything. Ever.”

“Thank you. Did you know that Twinkies started out as banana flavored but they changed it when they got low on bananas in World War II?”

“No. I hope it’s part of my 80 percent.” Julie leaned back on the bean bag chair and it slipped. “Buy a couch or I’m not coming over here any more.”

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