Teen Funs Nansy -

Thus began the summer of Nansy’s Grand Teen Funs Extravaganza .

Her parents picked her up that evening. As her minivan disappeared around the corner, our phones buzzed with a new group chat name. She’d changed it herself before leaving. teen funs nansy

On the last day, Nansy sat us down. “I have one final fun,” she said softly. She handed each of us a small, handwritten card. Mine said: You are braver than you believe. Go get lost on purpose. Thus began the summer of Nansy’s Grand Teen

The masterpiece, though, was day seven. Nansy decided our local “haunted” mini-golf course was boring, so she staged a fake alien invasion. Armed with laser pointers, a fog machine stolen from the school’s drama department, and a recording of dial-up internet static, she coordinated us via walkie-talkies. We were the “Men in Black” (minus the suits) while she piloted a cardboard UFO from the roof of her minivan. The teenagers working the course actually screamed. The manager called the police. We escaped through a drainage ditch, Nansy leading the charge, her orthopedic sneakers squelching in the mud. She’d changed it herself before leaving

Then she pulled out a jar of pickles and a can of whipped cream. “Pickleback sundae, anyone?” We groaned, but we ate it. It was disgusting. It was perfect.

“That,” she panted, leaning against a dumpster behind a CVS, “is what I call teen funs.”

Maya replied instantly: Fake an alien invasion.