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there. We’d better buy some chains.
ALL GASSED UP
Horribly overpriced chains
purchased and “how to install ’em”
tutorial complete, we hit the highway.
Normally, the yeasty scent
of the Schat’s Bakkerÿ bread
on my sandwich would strike me
as pretty much heavenly.
Today it’s making me slightly
nauseous, a fact that Trey, who
is inhaling his own sandwich,
can’t help but notice. Have you
decided what to do about that?
I want to sound defiant, but
the best I can accomplish
is a miserable, “Do about what?”
Trey shrugs. I can’t pretend to
be your friend, let alone your
dad. We barely know each other.
But I am a pretty good judge
of character, and I can see
you’re a special kind of girl.
Special kind of girl? “What
does that mean?” And am
I as pea soup green as I feel?
Don’t get all huffy now. All
I meant was, you’ve got a look.
In prison, we’d call you a fish—
someone new to the scene.
