The mother ship landed and pulled up to the curb in front of a ranch-style house in a late 70’s subdivision. Four teenagers disembarked. They entered the house, and one young traveler turned on the TV while the others opened the refrigerator, grabbed the phone, and flopped onto a sofa. They were anxious to leave. They had plans. So they only stayed for an hour and a half, until the adults returned. Then they left with more money than when they arrived.
The girls climbed back into the pale blue sedan with four doors and six seatbelts, turned on the CD player and the air, and were gone. They had three more stops, for food and money, and several calls to make. A cell phone rang.
“We have to move out,” the tall girl informed the other crew members.
“As soon as possible,” agreed the driver.
“Can’t handle my parents,” complained the girl in back.
“Living at home sucks.”
They cruised the neighborhoods searching for RENTAL signs. They scanned the local paper. They acquired listings and made phone calls. They added to their well-developed twelfth-grade vocabularies, with words and phrases like deposit, credit history, and cosigner.
“We need a big house,” said the tall girl.
“Like my parents’,” added the driver.
“It has to be cheap,” worried the girl in back.
“What’ll we do?”