Lydia’s Seventeenth

Lydia’s seventeenth was last night. Her parents did a backyard grill thing. Pretty much everyone came. I dragged Eniz along since he wasn’t working. The whole evening came together—one of those where everyone’s in a good mood and nothing really goes sideways.

Betty got stung by a flying frog, allegedly. I spent an embarrassing amount of time playing with the grill lighter. The ketchup was hot and expired, which I discovered by using it. Madi somehow won the entire night just by existing and laughing the way she does—that kind of laugh that makes everything around it seem stupider and better.

Then Eniz did his thing. The kind of thing I legally cannot discuss. A plainclothes cop took notice. Lydia’s parents were genuinely good about it—fed us, didn’t make an issue. That kind of hospitality doesn’t come around often.

Friday’s supposed to be our party if the weather cooperates. If it doesn’t, we’ll find somewhere else. We usually manage.