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Explosive Friendships

M. J. Padgett

New Year’s Eve snuck up before we knew it, and Noah and I were officially celebrating our one-year anniversary. The boys decided they were pyrotechnic wizards and nearly bought out an entire firework stand. If I didn’t say I was concerned, you would undoubtedly know I was lying or living in an imaginary land where teenage boys playing with fire and explosives resulted in nothing but fluffy clouds and rainbows. I spent most of the night wondering which one of us would end up in the hospital. Another visit would probably earn us a wing named in our honor, but luckily, that didn’t happen. It was a pleasant surprise, but that doesn’t mean the night was drama free.

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