As I watched him, he turned it curiously, then pressed a button on the side of the case. The crystal kitty head popped up to reveal a hidden compact mirror.
“I think it’s you,” I chirped.
Ben wheeled around and smiled approvingly. “I like it. Very Japanese.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I also got something for you.”
“I’m not wearing a wig.”
“You’re such a downer.” I handed him a baseball cap, then took off my camera case and slung it around his neck. “There: Generic American Tourist. No one will look twice at you.”
“I’ll choose not to take that as an insult.

Author: Hilary Duff