Today was my friend Tara’s birthday, so we skipped our last class (read: we walked in, were told by our teacher that we didn’t need to be there, and walked back out… it’s much less badass than it sounds, and it didn’t sound remotely badass to begin with) and had a picnic in the parking lot. Her prom date made her this cake that could’ve won awards, it was so gloriously good. Another friend who didn’t go to class got a blanket out of her car, and we laid it all out in an empty parking space. We had plates and forks and all that jazz, but we don’t believe in civilized manners.
The problem, of course, with a cake of such exquisite taste is that eventually it becomes dangerous. It’s just so good that you simply can’t eat anymore. So as soon as school let out, we offered a chunk (notice I say “chunk” and not “slice”) to everyone who passed by. People I’d never met before were hanging out in our little parking space and chowing on cake.
And for the first time all year, it felt a little bit like summer.