Amanda walked outside wearing only a thin, red plaid flannel, well-worn and pink at the elbows. It belonged to her eldest brother, Jeremy, and it was the only item of his that remained after he went away to school. She wore a new pair of athletic socks with white flip flops. It was winter, the coldest one yet recorded to date, but she was part of the No Pants movement, and she hadn’t worn pants all year, and she wasn’t about to start now.
The week before, she adorned a proper Christmas sweater with tights. Her mother, Sally, did not comment on her outfit; she was only happy that she wasn’t completely bare. She didn’t understand teenagers, although she of course been a teenager once; it seemed that the teenage years of her past and her daughter’s present form were completely different breeds, incompatible.
“It’s like the flu virus that keeps on changing.” She remembered her own mother saying this during her youth, but she felt it didn’t really translate over to her own daughter. Despite the brazenness of the lack of pants, Sally felt a uncomfortable pride when seeing Amanda’s bare legs walk in and out of her house. They were beautiful, long, lean and colorful, and her daughter could only be young once, and if a No Pants movement had to occur, now was the right time.