Her house is the house. Anyone can show up; anyone can stay. And that’s the draw. But more have shown up this time than ever before and it’s a bit overwhelming. Elbow to elbow, full of body heat. Loud. So loud. Between the energy of the crowd and the bouncing music, the house can appear as if it’s pulsing. She runs through the rooms making sure people are keeping their shit contained. How the hell does she always wake up to a clean house after these parties? They respect! They are not allowed if they don’t. She scolds with the quick. The house is small and she runs a tight ship. She cracks the whip, ‘Empty your ashtrays! Throw your beer cans in the trashcan!’ There has never been a house party so orderly. Half show up just to say they came. This helps, cuz they’ll leave soon enough. The throngs are in the backyard. The close friends are in the living room. The tighter-knit ones are in her bedroom, sitting on the floor in a circle, smoking bowls. All of this starts with whispering at the lockers no later than Thursday, leading into the weekend. It’s trailed through the hallways by the final bell on Friday. Yes, she’ll have people over on Saturday. These ‘gatherings’ can escalate into chaos quickly. Cars park blocks away. She has been known to stand on her front porch and direct people straight to the backyard when they walk up. She is the host, the eagle eye, and the chaperone. Keys are grabbed if too much alcohol is consumed. These weekends have become too consistent, now there is an expectation. Funny how that happens. A consistency, then an expectation.
Sleepovers
Sleepovers
Sleepovers
Her house is the house. Anyone can show up; anyone can stay. And that’s the draw. But more have shown up this time than ever before and it’s a bit overwhelming. Elbow to elbow, full of body heat. Loud. So loud. Between the energy of the crowd and the bouncing music, the house can appear as if it’s pulsing. She runs through the rooms making sure people are keeping their shit contained. How the hell does she always wake up to a clean house after these parties? They respect! They are not allowed if they don’t. She scolds with the quick. The house is small and she runs a tight ship. She cracks the whip, ‘Empty your ashtrays! Throw your beer cans in the trashcan!’ There has never been a house party so orderly. Half show up just to say they came. This helps, cuz they’ll leave soon enough. The throngs are in the backyard. The close friends are in the living room. The tighter-knit ones are in her bedroom, sitting on the floor in a circle, smoking bowls. All of this starts with whispering at the lockers no later than Thursday, leading into the weekend. It’s trailed through the hallways by the final bell on Friday. Yes, she’ll have people over on Saturday. These ‘gatherings’ can escalate into chaos quickly. Cars park blocks away. She has been known to stand on her front porch and direct people straight to the backyard when they walk up. She is the host, the eagle eye, and the chaperone. Keys are grabbed if too much alcohol is consumed. These weekends have become too consistent, now there is an expectation. Funny how that happens. A consistency, then an expectation.