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"GOD, THE MILKOVICHE'S are really making the entire neighborhood stink," Amara said, carrying the last of Silvia's boxes up the stairs, and plopping them on the floor beside her bed. "I wanted some fresh air, but literally the only thing I could smell was, like, rotting corpse."
"Just my luck," Silvia mused, taping up a poster, before turning around to sigh. "It's weird living here again, y'know?"
"Yeah, I bet," Amara replied, scanning the room. There'd been countless nights where she had stayed in that top bunk that used to belong to Lip. Now, she slept in her own bed, in her own house. With Lip. "Growing up is so fucking weird."
"How do you mean?"
"I dunno," she shrugged. "It just is. It's sad, too. I'll never be sixteen running from the cops again with Ian and Lip."
"Hm," her sister hummed. "I guess I get it. Not much has changed for me, though. I'm still here. I didn't get knocked up. I can still run from the cops if I please."
"Well, lucky you," Amara tossed a pillow at her, just as Ian walked into the room. "What's up red velvet?"
"I think Carl took my underwear," he said, rummaging through a dresser. Amara grimaced along with Silvia.
"You guys are disgusting. That is officially my cue to leave."
"Oh, hey!" Debbie greeted when she appeared in the kitchen. "I didn't know you were here."
"Surprise," she grinned at her, reaching for a cup. "And surprise again, because I'm stealing some coffee."
Ian came barreling down the stairs immediately after her, and Amara didn't have time to catch the tension between Debbie and Sandy. "Ooh, cargo pants. Don't mess with this white guy."
"Dude, your ass looks so good in those," Amara commented. "How the fuck is yours bigger than mine?"
"Shut the fuck up," Ian smacked the back of her head, grinning. "Try squatting."
"I feel like most weed dealers just wear sweatpants and slides but-"
"Not a weed dealer," Ian interrupted, and then promptly turned his head to glance up the stairs. "Mickey!"
"Goddamn, you're gonna burst one of my eardrums."
"Shut the fuck up," Mickey's voice sounded, and he appeared a moment later. Amara shared an amused glance with Sandy. "I'm coming."
"The fuck you doing?" He asked when Mickey brushed by Amara and towards the cabinets. Amara refrained from chucking a fork into his neck.
"Coffee."
"We gotta go. We're late."
"Okay." Mickey did not seem bothered by this at all.
