Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 505(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
And not feel things.
Lots of things.
I snap out of it by looking forward—and ignoring that hungry look Chad’s giving me. “Alright. Let’s face the country music.”
Chad and I head back across the lot, then enter the cafeteria. It’s still lit up and filled with the noise of a twangy, slow country song, but several of the tables are empty and being cleaned up by the staff. I spot a number of people—some here, some there, a few sitting by themselves with their phones out, scrolling, bored, and a couple tables full of people still sharing stories and reminiscing. One table in particular seems to have gathered all the stragglers, who eagerly listen to a woman—Is that Virginia?—as she describes some big, awful incident involving a prank she and her friends tried to play on their History teacher, her story punctuated every few seconds by an eruption of laughter. The vast majority of everyone I know has, as predicted, left.
We find our phones sitting on the table, right where we left them, as well as my satchel hanging from the back of my chair.
We also find a scowling-faced Owen guarding it all.
“The hell, man??” Owen exclaims at Chad the second he spots us approaching. “You guys just … just up and disappeared halfway through dinner! Did both y’all’s pants catch on fire?”
“Sorry, Owen,” Chad starts. “We went goofin’ off in the halls, probably goin’ places we weren’t supposed to go, we lost track of time, and we shoulda—”
Owen isn’t done, rising out of his chair, red-faced. “I told the servers to leave your dinners three separate times, unsure if you were headed back at any point to finish. I didn’t know what the heck to say when they came around with desserts. Both of you got a hundred texts. I wasn’t snoopin’ or anything, but someone blew up your phone,” he says to Chad, “and someone named Sal Pal was blowin’ up yours,” he says to me. Then Owen spreads his hands with exasperation. “Now is someone gonna tell me what the hell was so dang interesting in the halls of this school that kept y’all’s attention for an hour and twenty-seven minutes?”
Chad and I share a look.
I don’t think either of us realized how long we were gone.
“Sorry, Daddy,” says Chad.
I snort and slap a hand to my mouth to stop from laughing.
Owen glares at each of us. “Never mind.” He throws his hands. “Shoot. I don’t even care no more. I just wanna drive the hell out to the Evans’, eat a ton more, and get wasted. You guys comin’? Or is there another hallway of illegal classroom trespassing you’re just dyin’ to do before ya go?”
I answer for the both of us. “I think we’re collectively done with Spruce High. We’re coming to the Evans’ for sure.”
Owen grunts, eyeing us. “Well, it ain’t gonna take you an hour and twenty-seven minutes to drive there. I sure ain’t waitin’ up for ya if it does. Shoot, sorry.” He scrunches up his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, then shakes his head. “I ain’t mad at y’all. Not really. I got other things on my mind. Robby’s a dick, Chad. He dropped by our table, asked where you were, then said something that pissed me off, and—Well, I know why you don’t like him. He’s an arrogant prick, fair and square. I ain’t lookin’ forward to seeing him at the Evans’. You know he’s datin’ Vanessa, right?” he asks me, then doesn’t wait for a response before adding, “Now that is an odd couple, if ya ask me, which ya didn’t, but I’m sayin’ it anyway. The player and the rich girl. Shoot, they ain’t gonna last.” Owen laughs. He has apparently transitioned from red-faced anger at us to teary-eyed laughter. “Hell, I got issues. I’ll see you both at the, uh … at the thing.” He scoots past us, slaps Chad heartily on the back, then makes his way out of the cafeteria.
Chad gives me a look. “See what I mean? I ain’t tellin’ no one in this damned town.”
I smirk. “Yeah. Your friends are kind of neurotic.”
“Kind of …?”
I chuckle at that, then swipe my phone off the table. I gnaw on my lip as I skim over the stream of messages Salvador left me.
SAL PAL
Where do you keep your lube?
SAL PAL
Sorry, what day do you come back again?
SAL PAL
Just checked, it’s Sunday. Disregard. So cute how your calendar’s color coded, lol
SAL PAL
Seriously though, where’s the lube?
SAL PAL
You’re out of kale, spinach, AND quinoa. I thought you were on the diet too???
SAL PAL
Hey
SAL PAL
Gurrrrrrrrrrrrl you will not ignore me.
SAL PAL
Okay, so I just saw a pelican on ur balcony
SAL PAL
OMG why aren’t you answering your texts????
I take a deep, steeling breath, then quite deliberately stow my phone away into my leather satchel—stuffing away any thoughts of Salvador and his lovely, terrible fiancé.