Nansy: Teen Funs

Day two, she woke us at 5:00 AM with a bullhorn she’d borrowed from the neighbor’s garage. “Morning, losers! Today’s fun: dumpster diving for discarded corporate secrets.” Maya, who wanted to be a lawyer, was horrified. I, on the other hand, found a broken neon sign from a pizza place that Nansy later rewired to spell “FUN” in our treehouse. She called it “reclamation artistry.”

Leo went to the audition. He got the part. And somewhere, probably in a different CVS parking lot, Nansy smiled, opened her notebook, and wrote a new line: Phase two: The senior center break-in. For fun, of course. 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 two, she woke us at 5:00 AM

Nansy wasn't a place. She was a person. Specifically, she was my best friend Leo’s 74-year-old grandmother, who had recently discovered a YouTube channel about "extreme urban exploration." When Leo’s parents shipped her off to our suburban cul-de-sac for two weeks, we expected quiet evenings of tea and cookie recipes. Instead, we got a manifesto. I, on the other hand, found a broken

Thus began the summer of Nansy’s Grand Teen Funs Extravaganza .

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.