Reminds me of a few things.
Bear, your couch cushion fort comment took me back. When I was 12, my sister (13) and I made forts in my bedroom and wadded up a ream of paper to "bomb" each other with. We were screaming, and laughing, and throwing paper balls at each other. It was Friday night, and we were up late. My mom (single) kept coming in and telling us to stop being loud and to go to bed. We were 12 and 13, we couldn't help ourselves. After midnight, and several trip too many, my mom finally kicked in the door (my poor sister was backed up to it), splintering the jamb, and scaring the shit out of my sister, but then shit got real, when good ol mom pulled out a .25 and started waving it at me. She was jabbing it at me in the air, finger on the trigger, with a crazy, yelling, diatribe about respect and following orders. She was like the woman in Pulp Fiction jumping on the table yelling at everyone to not move, or she'll "execute every motherfucking last one of you". To this day mom denies it. While sis and I went straight to bed, neither of us slept that night.
My sister had this friend that liked me. The feeling was not mutual. One night she stayed over, and I knew they were going to sneak out and walk the 'hood. When they snuck into my room, I pretended to be asleep; even while they put toothpaste on my face and covered me in toilet paper. I even rubbed it in for their amusement like it itched. They squealed in delight and hot footed it around trying to figure out where to hide in case I woke up. When they were done, they went out the front door. I cleaned up, tossed sis's room, and locked the latch on them (the kind you can only open from inside). Once in my room, I put pick up jacks in the carpet in front of my door, a mine field. A couple hours later I woke up to the doorbell and banging on the door. They were pissed. My mom, who had to go let them in was pissed (at me!). Sis went to her room, and saw it's state. She yelled at me from down the hall, making my mom yell at me. Then an hour later, those two hookers tried to sneak back in to get me, but stepped on the jacks, screaming in pain, waking my mom up again. She came to my room and yelled at me for ten minutes. Shit wasn't right. The point is, at 12-13, you can't be more alive than a sleepover at a stranger's home with the opposite sex.