It was one of those early summer nights when the cold still clung to the pavement, but the air had finally cooled just enough to make you want to stay outside forever. I remember the group text blowing up that afternoon MJ, Dani, Rico, and me — arguing over what time to meet and who was bringing what. The plan was simple: link up at Jay’s house, hang out in the backyard, play music, talk nonsense like we always did, and pretend we weren’t all slowly growing up.
MJ's backyard was basically home base. His parents traveled a lot, so it was usually just us, a Bluetooth speaker, a half-broken patio light, and way too many bags of chips. That night, Jay had lit up the little firepit he got for Christmas two years back the one he never knew how to use properly but insisted on lighting every single time.
We were deep in conversation, something stupid about whether aliens would even want to visit Earth, when Marco got up to get more ice from inside. A few minutes later, we heard the back door slam and his muffled “uhh… guys?” from the other side.
Yup. Locked. Out.
At first, we laughed. Rico’s face through the glass was priceless he looked like a lost dog, confused but polite. MJ's tried to act like he had it under control, fiddling with the handle like it was going to magically turn. Spoiler: it didn’t.
What made it worse was MJ had forgotten his phone inside. Of course he did. Dani tried calling Rico, but we realized none of us could hear her phone buzzing from inside the house. So we were stuck. Four teenagers, no keys, no phones, no plan, and a firepit that was now slowly dying out like our hopes for a chill night.
Then came the genius idea, Rico should climb through the tiny bathroom window on the side of the house. It was half-open and just big enough for someone skinny to squeeze through. We all looked at each other, and like clockwork, every eye landed on Dani.
“Absolutely not,” she said immediately, crossing her arms.
So we nominated MJ. He didn’t hesitate partly because he was the only one who lived there, and partly because we all knew he’d do anything to avoid his mom finding out we locked ourselves out again.
Watching him try to climb into that window was like watching a baby giraffe learning to walk. He got halfway through before getting stuck, legs flailing in the air, yelling at Rico to “just push my feet, man!” We were in tears from laughing so hard. Dani had to sit down on the grass because she couldn’t breathe.
Somehow, miraculously, MJ wriggled his way through and opened the door with a dramatic bow like he’d just saved the world.
We cheered like idiots. No one even cared about the ice anymore. We sat around that slowly dying fire, finishing off warm soda and stale Doritos, telling the same stories we always did like the time Rico tripped over his shoelaces in front of his crush, or the time Dani roasted our math teacher so hard we thought she’d get suspended.
But that night? That night became one of those stories.
And now, whenever one of us says “Remember when MJ got stuck in the window?” we all laugh like it just happened yesterday. Because it wasn’t just about the lockout or the window. It was about us that stage in life where nothing mattered except being around people who made you feel like yourself. No filters, no pressure. Just us.
I think we all have a few nights like that little slices of memory we hold onto tighter than we realize. That night was one of mine