Page 32 of Resurrection
"Think we'll survive?" Ty asked, edging closer to me and nodding at the endless row of lockers.
"I give it a week," I shot back, the noise of the corridor blurring around us.
"Don’t forget, you have me now," he supplied cockily, leaning against the metal wall with one shoulder.
Even at fourteen, he had the confidence of a grown man.
"You? Even my brother can’t help. Girl drama is on another level," I joked.
"I’m different."
"How?"
"You’ll see."
Just then, I saw Adri walking down the hallway in the company of his jock friends. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow his pace, just threw a ridiculousBe nice to my sister, Stringsat Ty on his way to the classroom.
"Asshole," I whispered.
"He always like this in school?" Ty asked, looking over his shoulder.
"He’s a senior now. Don’t expect him to be all chummy with you in front of his football-team buddies."
"School hierarchy doesn’t allow it?" Ty chuckled like it was no big deal for him.
"Something like that."
"Then you don’t mind if we do lunch together?" he suggested. "Being the same age and all?"
"Sure." I tried to sound nonchalant, like either way was fine with me, but in reality, my pulse was all wrong. Too fast, too slow, too unpredictable.
The bell rang, and we scattered to our respective classrooms, but during lunch break, he found me at the entrance to the cafeteria. My parents always packed me something in case the food at school wasn’t enough or to my liking. Sometimes, I ate it; sometimes, I’d give it to Brittney or Shauna. Sometimes, Adri would come by and snatch my sandwich. I had no idea where it all went. He was so skinny. No wonder he sucked at football.
But today, it was me and Tyler, and we traded jokes about who had the worst teachers and why while sitting at a corner table. Just the two of us.
"Think they do it like this on purpose?" Ty asked, poking at the pulled pork sandwich Dad sneaked into my backpack this morning.
"It's survival of the fittest," I said. "Wanna trade?" I gestured at his sub that somehow looked way better than what I’d brought from home.
"Sure." He didn’t even give me a chance to change my mind. "Your pops can rock it in the kitchen."
"You know The Gobbler?"
"The food truck?"
I nodded.
"Of course. Who the hell in Coachella Valley doesn’t know it?"
"It’s ours."
"What do you mean?" He had this expression on his face like he’d been struck by lightning.
"I mean, my parents own it."
"For real?" He seemed impressed. "Why haven't I seen it parked in front of your house?"
"Oh, it's in a garage in the back alley. If we keep it outside for everyone to see, it'll be a nightmare."
