Besides not at Mayfair Mall, that is.

Chances are they are in my basement, with their computers, using language I'll ignore, and having a ball.

There's a LAN party going on. I'm not sure what that means, but ominous computer noises are burbling up from the underground, along with giggles and silences and bursts of laughter, then more of the language I'm busy ignoring.

Idgy keeps going down to see what's happening. She can't quite believe that there are all those boys down there, and none of them are throwing balls or doing anything she'd consider appropriate or remotely interesting.

My job as I understand it is to keep the pizza and chocolate chip cookies moving from oven to basement.

The girls have fled. I'm sure that I'll wish I could, too, when 2 am rolls around and the burbling and outbursts are still going on. I told the girls that the guys in the basement are the guys they'll be interested in ten years from now, which piece of bizarre opinion was met with the eye roll and wrinkled upper lip of teengirl disbelief.

Men. You can't understand 'em, but there's something awfully cute about their odd ways.