The Fleeting Happy

Twelve

Right after school, we went to Stef's house. Carter, Montana, Owen, Greene and Stef and I. She lived in an ordinary house in south-central Severn Valley, in a somewhat sketchy neighborhood in a Cul-de-sac.

Apart from all the spiders, I think I'd really like living in Stef's house.

Her mom was a hippie and her dad was an ex-rockstar, so they were both creative, mellow people. Apparently, they were always at home, because Mrs. Browning worked freelance and Mr. Browning wrote commercial jingles, so he didn't really need to be in his office very often. The Browning family was a very odd one indeed, but they loved each other and were fully-functional, so I think that's all that really matters.

It was strange to meet Stef's parents, mostly because she looked almost exactly like a younger version of her mother. They had the same stick-straight, baby-fine blonde hair (except Stef's was bleached) and the same toothy smile and the same aura of intimidation.

Mrs. Browning let us sit in her meditation room (which was really just a room with velvet flooring, mandala tapestries covering every inch of every wall and various-sized cushions strewn about) and for snacks, she gave us sunflower seeds and what she described as 'decadent carob-coated rice cakes.'

As soon as she closed the door and left us to ourselves, everyone spat out the sunflower seeds and the rice cakes and Stef pulled out two bags of candy from her bra.

I think Owen noticed my confusion, because he laughed and said, "nobody likes the vegan organic shit Willow serves. Stef's been sneaking in junk food since she was four. This is kind of protocol."

Owen was right-- everyone seemed to have their designated roles. Carter scrambled to his feet, bolting to the door to make sure it was locked. Montana took down one of the tapestries to stuff it through the crack under the door, in case the smell of sour sanding and Red Dye No. 2 managed to waft its way out to the rest of the house. Stef solemnly divided up the candy on one of the cushions, muttering rapidly to Greene, who was tapping his fingers nervously and singing loudly so that he could drown out the sounds of crinkling wrappers.

"We developed a system freshman year," Greene told me. "Well, Stef and Diego's freshman year. Montana was still in middle school and Carter, Owen and I were sophomores. It's foolproof. Willow has no idea we're eating sugary crap and flushing the sunflower seeds down the toilet."

"That's... impressive," I managed, chuckling.

I awkwardly sat cross-legged next to Stef, grabbing a sour peach and chewing on it thoughtfully. Sometimes, I forgot that these people had known each other for far longer than they'd known me. It made me feel kind of uncomfortable, especially since Diego wasn't here. Diego should've been here.

"Hey, are you sure Diego doesn't want to come to the concert tonight?" I asked, frowning.

"He doesn't want to seventh wheel," Montana stated.

"That's ridiculous, he wouldn't seventh wheel!" I protested.

At this, Carter barked out a laugh. "Ease up, New Girl. Diego'll be fine. See, he's texting me right now! Let's see what Diego said..." Carter checked his phone and read out loud the text: "Bro, I'm about to get laid."

Everybody laughed except for me, mostly because I didn't see what was so funny.

He was about to get laid? At this very moment? Why was he not freaking out?

"Tell him I say good job!" Stef yelled.

"Remind him to wrap it!" Montana chimed in, doubling over hysterically.

Carter promptly texted back, reading out loud his message as he crafted it: "Good job, wrap your junk, we're all cheering for you from Willow's meditation room. Sending good vibes your way. Love, the gang."