There are two teenage boys playing pretend-guitars made out of cardboard. One of them is shirtless. The other is wearing a leather jacket over a torso that is rarely exposed in public. Behind them, a blonde female drummer mimes a beat on a drum-set made completely out of bar-stools and grill-lids. It’s the middle of the day in early August. The shirtless guy is lip-syncing to “Satanic Royalty,” a 2011 song by Midnight. He’s shot low-angle, for added menace. At the 1:48 mark, he windmills his arm over to the kid in the jacket, because it’s his buddy Julian’s turn to shine. Julian flails his fingers over the cardboard, trying to express what that music makes him feel, which is complete dissociation from the bullshit of teenage existence. His grades started falling during the last school year, and he feels like he can’t do anything about it, like his brain hit a wall midway through the last pre-calc unit and that’s about as smart as he’ll ever get. His mom has been drinking wine again. That drummer behind him, Camille? He’s had a crush on her since the fifth grade, but of course she doesn’t look at him that way. He’s the funny guy with the baby fat and the high voice. He started to tell her how he felt one day, and she thought he was kidding. She literally laughed and threw a cup of water at him. They’re “good friends.” The shirtless kid writes things like “Fuck God” and “King Satan” in the margins of a notebook that he hides between his mattress and box spring. School starts again in three weeks. As an adult, Camille will tell people that she was a “total outcast” in high school. And when they say things like, “Oh no, not you Camille, you’re so pretty and so not-awkward,” she’ll quickly pull up YouTube on her phone and search for the “Satanic Puberty” video and say, “Look at this, look at this, oh my God, I was such a nerd,” and she’ll smile nervously and watch their reactions. She lost touch with those guys years ago. Julian’s not on Facebook and nobody really knows what he’s doing these days.