“Why can’t you just say we’re building a shelter,” Inés asked.

“‘Cause that sounds a lot more de-press-ing,” I said in a sing-song voice. “Before we get to that, we must go over Stranded One oh One. Octavia, what essential items are needed to survive in the middle of nowhere?”

“First aid kit, sharp object, preferably a knife, but multi-tool thingies work. Water purifier, or cotton, to filter. A compass. Some spare fabric, a scarf, or a bandana in case you need a mask, although that's if you're in the desert. And something to start fires.” 

“That’s nice and all, but why do you know this off the top of your head,” Reyya asked. She is not the only one looking confused. 

“Bri’s uncle. He’s an outdoor survivalist.”

“Yeah, Uncle Drew used to babysit me, Quinn, and Octavia before her parents realized he was serious, when our parents were, like, going on group dates or ‘having their adult time.’”

“I wish my parents would let me go see Uncle Drew. I haven’t seen him in a year, and I really do miss him,” Octavia whined. 

“You know he doesn't trust people he hasn’t seen in over six months. He’s going to think you're a spy or sleeper agent. Or an alien. Not like that, Inés, in the intergalactic sense,” I elaborated when she opened her mouth to rip a new one into me. 

“It’s not fair!”

“That’s,” Reyya interrupted, blinking dramatically as she stared at her pouting friend. “What we’re focusing on? Are you being fucking forreal?” 

“No! Returning to my story.”

“She always does this,” Zahra whispered to Anthony as he rolled his eyes. “Just bear with me. There’s a point. Eventually.”

“A-hem. You guys are so rude, which is why you always lose participation points in class. Where’s the decorum.”

“Just tell the story,” Krys said in what I knew was a placating tone. It still worked. 

“Fine. As I was saying. My uncle babysat me and used it as a time to instruct and prepare for the worst-case scenario. At first, it started with camping in the backyard. Then we started watching survivalist shows, which Octavia and I still do when we hang out, and Unc gives a live critique.”

“He even,” Quinn added unhelpfully, with a raised finger, “taught us how to extreme coupon so that we could amass supplies in the case of a natural disaster, a major apocalyptic event, civil war. Or just to get off the grid in case the government starts 'chasing' him again. Best bargain hunter you could ever befriend.”

Krys and Zahra were the only ones who really appreciated the lore we were dropping, as evident in their nodding and humming, so I spoke to them directly. 

“It’s true. You should see him haggle at a farmer’s market,” I said with no small amount of pride.

“He got them to haggle,” Zahra gasps. “I don’t understand why Americans don't bargain that much at the farmers and fleamarkets unless they are old or are dealing with antiques. Go back to my parent's home country, and we can go toe to toe over anything. Here, vendors won’t even negotiate with you,” she complained. 

“Riiight. They hate to see him coming. Yeah…wait, stop distracting me. Uh, yes, he’s been teaching me how to farm and be self-sustainable these last few years after Trump got nominated in twenty-sixteen, so I wouldn’t have to depend on the government for anything.”

Inés, Reyya, and Ant blurt simultaneously:

“That explains your garage.”

“My daddy’s side is like that, too.”

“That’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah, we got him to go to a psychologist. Turns out he’s paranoid. He won’t take his meds and lives out in the woods in Virginia. I visit him every other month.”

“Why?”

I’m kinda getting tired of him asking 'fifty-’lven questions' as my mom would say. 

“He might be paranoid, but he isn’t wrong. There’s soooo gonna be a disaster in the next ten years with how things are going. On the bright side, my extreme couponing lets me donate weekly to the local shelters, and the garden makes a decent side hustle at the farmer’s market.”

“She has the best fucking jam,” Krys said, nodding with a serious face. For them, it was. Try getting in between Krys and some buttered biscuits with strawberry jam…it's a harrowing experience.

“Okay, we get it, you know how to survive, but we don’t have any of that shit,” Ant thought he pointed out.

“But we do.”

“The fuck?”

“When my uncle heard about my trip, he paid me a visit and gave me a compact ass backpack that barely fit the personal item limit, and a scaled-down version to Quinn and...” I had asked him to make another, but-

“And me,” Krys confessed with a blush. Ignoring everybody’s stares, I focused on them, too shocked to hide my jaw-dropping.

“You accepted it?”

“Yeah, he had your cousin, Dina, come by last week with it when he heard I was being stubborn. He sent me a very strongly worded letter expressing his disapproval via Pepper.” Pepper is Unc’s trained bird for mail. “He sent me mainly food and miscellaneous emergency supplies.”

“Thank you for accepting.”

“I should be thanking you for thinking about me…still.”

The words were on the tip of my tongue, but Quinn’s cough thankfully stopped me from airing out too much of our laundry. “Yep…ah, let’s, um, let’s unpack the goodies.”

I started unzipping mine, refusing to look up for one second. The custom bag is a monster with many zippers, pockets, and vacuum-sealed sections. It’s designed to tuck away the valuables, but it could be unzipped into a mat of sorts.

“Does your uncle even like me,” Quinn muttered as we sorted. She didn’t have quite as many supplies, but the bag was packed to the brim.

“He does. I’m simply his favorite.”

And boy, is it nice to be the apple of someone's eye. With Krys holding off unpacking until we sorted the two bags, we so far identified the following in our possessions so far: two first-aid kits, two multi-tools, water filter tablets, a collapsible kettle and metal tea cup, a few days' worth of emergency food packets and bars, mini bars of soap and lotion, toothpaste tablets, two compasses, plastic ponchos, two rolls of beading wire, portable chargers (with adapters and cords), and a fire starter kit disguised as a toy. He also gave me an anti-theft wallet with cash in euros and dinar, just in case.

When he finds out about the plane crash, I know he’ll be somewhere screaming 'I told you so!'