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 “Oh my God Darla, that smells like shit.”

“That’s why I’m doing it in the bathroom.”

Darla left the bathroom door wide open, standing on the toilet seat so she could stick her head out the window. She tried to direct the smoke outside, but the wind outside was so strong that it blew right into Ashe’s face. As she took another drag, Darla walked up behind her friend and blew the smoke straight down onto her magenta hair.

“Dude, what the hell,” exclaimed Ashe, coughing and grabbing at her hair. “Now I have to wash that out like, five times. My parents are gonna kill me if I smell like weed.”

“Whatever. Lighten up,” drawled Darla, draping herself across her mattress (it could hardly be considered a bed, due to its lack of a frame or any sort of fitted sheet). “I wanna do something.”

“Not right now, you’re high and I’m on the verge of an asthma attack,” bit Ashe, fumbling for her inhaler. “Light some incense or something, dude. I’m serious.”

“Won’t that make your lungs like... Worse?” questioned Darla.

“Eh, I have my inhaler. You need to cover up this fucking stench.”

Ashe had always hated the smell of weed. She would’ve tried it by now, if not for the odor. So of course the first friend she made at her new school ended up being Darla the Stoner. Never had Ashe met such an unapologetic bitch. Darla knew everyone hated her, and she reveled in it. She owned her attitude. Everything about the way she looked and talked conveyed the message “don’t fuck with me”. Her ten piercings, her short carrot orange sidecut, the gauges in her ears, the sagging bags under her eyes, her permanent scowl, the ripped jeans that showed off her unshaven legs. Some common phrases heard from Darla included “cabron”, “besame el culo”, and “don’t be a little bitch”. She preferred to curse in Spanish, not because she couldn’t get caught but because, she said, “it disappoints my mom more”.

“If I curse in Spanish, my mom knows what I’m saying. She doesn’t know any English. I like her better pissed, it suits her,” she had said. “Tell her to kiss my ass, she keeps ignoring me. I say ‘besame el culo’, that gets her attention.”

Darla interrupted her train of thought.

“Get your ukulele and my bass. Let’s jam,” she suggested.

“Why do I have to get it?” asked Ashe.

“Cuz I’m stoned as fuck.”

Ashe sighed and pushed herself off of the floor. She looked around Darla’s huge room and located the bass, but couldn’t seem to find the amp.

“Where’s the amp?” asked Ashe.

“Um. It should be…. Um… Fuck, hold on.”

Darla hauled herself off of the mattress.

Ashe stared at Darla, her eyes bright red and a glazed expression on her face.

“Yeah, you’ve had enough of that,” said Ashe, taking the blunt from her friend’s mouth.

“Good call. Oh, shit,” realized Darla, “the amp was right by my bed.” Darla couldn’t help but laugh for like, five minutes. Ashe didn’t think it was all that funny, but Darla’s inebriated mind just seemed to think it was the most hilarious thing in the world. Ashe snorted at how ridiculous her friend was, cracking a smile.

The rest of the night was just like that. The two teenagers spent hours laughing and making bad music, the moonlight shining in through the open bathroom window.

“Dude, we need like, a drummer. Or something.” suggested Darla around midnight.

“My friend Alex can drum,” Ashe offered.

“Ughhh, they’re so annoying...” complained Darla.

“Alex is great, fight me. You haven’t even met them before.”

“Fine, but if you can bring Alex I can bring Manny.”

“Awesome, I love that guy,” said Ashe.

“Well, you love most people.” Darla pointed out.

Alex opened their phone the next morning, as per usual morning routine. A message from Ashe was waiting.

Nerd baby: hey yo alex, can me n darla come to ur house to jam with u

They typed out an excited reply:

Bootymaster: fuck yeah when..?

Nerd baby: idk this weekend?

Bootymaster: okie cool

Nerd baby: o also manny might b there )

This… interested Alex.

Bootymaster: OHOHOHO >:3

Nerd baby: lmfao

The weekend came, and Ashe opened her phone to find several messages waiting from a nervous Alex.

Bootymaster: fam what should i wear ;-;

Bootymaster: should i wear that shirt manny also has

Bootymaster: no thats weird

Bootymaster: but its a cute shirtttttt~

Nerd baby: pls no

Bootymaster: ok thats what i thought...

Bootymaster: IM GONNA WEAR MY PEPE SHIRT~

Nerd baby: oh my goD, DO NOT WEAR YOUR PEPE SHIRT

Alex wore their pepe shirt.

When Darla got to the house, Alex and Ashe had already arrived. As Alex opened the door to greet her, Darla took one glance at their shirt and regretted everything.

“Hey MTV, I’m Alex, and this is my crib,” joked Alex, offering a hand and a genuine smile to Darla. They immediately regretted the joke.

She hesitantly took their hand, giving a quick shake and a curt smile.

“I’m Darla, good to meet you. Where… Did you get that shirt?”

“Um. The internet? I don’t really remember. Thanks, though,” they replied.

That was most definitely not a compliment, thought Darla.

“You guys in the garage?” Darla asked.

“Yupperoonie. Here, I’ll grab your stuff,” offered Alex, reaching for Darla’s amp and bass.

“I got it. Thanks,” she bit.

Alex directed her to the garage, cracking a few jokes Darla didn’t really respond to. The two made their way into the empty, humid garage, and Darla immediately walked up to Ashe.

“They’re so lame,” whispered Darla.

“Give them a chance, dude,” replied Ashe. “You’re just not used to being around optimists.”

Damn, thought Darla. She’s right.

The doorbell rang and Alex immediately perked up.

“Oh, that must be Manny. Lemme let him in,” said Alex, practically running for the door.

Alex took a look through the peephole. Manny was running his hands through his light purple hair, staring at his own feet. Alex collected themselves with a breath, and opened the door.

“Hey, Manny! C’mon, we’re in the garage,” said Alex with a huge smile. “I’ll grab your violin, if you want.”

“Oh, thanks fam. What’s up?” asked Manny, handing Alex his violin case. Oh my god, thought Alex, His fingernails are pink.

“Oh, you know, just… Screamin’ and memein’.”

Alex regretted the joke as soon as it came out of their mouth. Why were they so stupid? That joke didn’t even make most of his friends laugh, let alone the god that was Manny.

Manny let out a genuine giggle, and looked Alex in the eyes.

“I should’ve guessed, from your shirt,” he joked, gesturing to the sad frogs on Alex’s collared shirt. “Very fashion forward.”

Alex looked away from Manny so he couldn’t tell how much they were smiling. He liked their dumb joke.