Squad X (a Nuzi Story)

(MINI CHAPTER) THE MEAN GIRL BABY

COLT POV (For the first time ever, make some noise)

You know, thinking back on it now, I should've known I was doomed to a life of chaos from the start. I mean, when your parents are disassembly drones with a habit of forgetting basic things—like arranging a babysitter before date night—you learn to just roll with it.

I was maybe, what, two? Hard to remember exactly. But I do remember the night because it was the first time I said something they actually listened to.

It all started with my mom, Uzi, pacing around the living room like a worker drone with a glitch, while Dad just stood there, doing his best to look like he had everything under control. It was date night, and they were about to head out. Well, that was the plan, until reality hit them like a railgun blast.

"Wait..." Mom stopped mid-stride, eyes wide, like she'd just realized the world was on fire. "Colt. We forgot about Colt."

Yeah, that's me. I was just chilling in my playpen, doing absolutely nothing to draw attention to myself, which is probably why they forgot. I wasn't screaming or destroying things yet.

Dad blinked like he was processing the information for the first time. "What? Oh, right... babysitter."

Cue the frantic calls. You know the kind where they're speed-dialing whoever can show up within five minutes. Enter Aunt V and Aunt Lizzie—two drones who clearly had nothing better to do that night, so naturally, they became my backup crew.

Now, V and Lizzie? Let's just say they weren't exactly the most responsible babysitters, but I was too young to care. As soon as they walked in, V gave me a half-hearted wave. "Hey, kid. We're gonna watch Mean Girls. It's a classic."

Classic. Sure, why not?

Lizzie seemed more excited than V—probably because she had nothing else going on. "This is going to be fun," she said, like babysitting me was some kind of adventure. Honestly, I'm pretty sure they just wanted an excuse to sit around and do nothing. Babysitting a toddler? Perfect cover.

So they put on Mean Girls for me. I sat there, eyes glued to the screen, absorbing the pink chaos unfolding on it. I didn't understand any of it, of course. But I didn't need to. At some point, there's this line that stood out to me. You know the one. "Get in, loser. We're going shopping."

And yeah, I said it. Because why not?

I can still remember the look on V's face when those words came out of my mouth. She just stared at me, wide-eyed, like I'd cracked the code of the universe. Lizzie burst out laughing, completely losing it.

That was my first sentence. Not "Mom" or "Dad." Nope. I went with "Get in, loser. We're going shopping." Solid choice, right?

By the time my parents finally came home, I knew something was off. They looked too happy, like they'd just come back from the best night of their lives. Meanwhile, V and Lizzie were passed out on the couch, the place was a wreck, and I was sitting there, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Mom took one look at the mess and sighed, already over it. "Looks like they had fun."

Dad, being Dad, just chuckled. He probably thought it was hilarious. As they walked over to me, I knew exactly what I had to do. I looked them dead in the eyes, totally serious, and said, "Get in, loser. We're going shopping."

The look on Mom's face was priceless. Dad, of course, laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. That's when I realized I was officially that kid. The one who got his first words from a teen comedy.

Years later, the story still gets brought up. Every now and then, when I'm feeling particularly sarcastic, I'll repeat the line just to get a rise out of them. And you know what? It always works. Mom rolls her eyes, Dad laughs, and I just sit back, basking in the glory of that one, ridiculous moment when Mean Girls defined my first real sentence.

Somehow, I'm not surprised. Not with this family.