It was 10 a.m. on Saturday morning when Ben arrived at Gwen’s house. They’d decided to have a normal weekend for once. Fighting aliens all the time certainly made you appreciate normalcy whenever you could get it.
First order of priority was washing their cars. They’d both gotten cars for their 16th birthday, thanks to the generosity of their parents.
Both cars were long overdue for a wash.
He was to blame for that. He had an intense dislike of automated car washes, having been trapped in one when he was 10. He’d narrowly escaped the scalding hot wax cycle, thanks to Grandpa Max’s quick reflexes, but going through the giant roller brushes and commercial air dryer had been enough to traumatize him. As a result, he avoided all automated car washes whenever possible.