Teen Funs Nansy Portable ✦

Day four, we attempted her signature event: “Slip ‘n’ Sizzle.” She’d laid out a tarp in her backyard, greased it with cooking spray, and then used a pressure washer to create a slip-n-slide that ended in a kiddie pool filled with orange soda. “Live a little!” she cackled as Leo belly-flopped into the fizz. We emerged sticky, scraped, and laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. My hair smelled like discount citrus for a week.

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. teen funs nansy

We never played mini-golf again. But that fall, when Leo felt too anxious to try out for the school play, I texted the group: What would Nansy do? Day four, we attempted her signature event: “Slip

Maya replied instantly: Fake an alien invasion. My hair smelled like discount citrus for a week

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.

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.