He grunts.
"So? What are the rules?"
"It should be fine, but I'll need to make sure they understand they can't show anyone until long after we've left."
"Tell you what. You have your talk and then let me know if it's okay. Then I won't get in trouble."
"In trouble?"
"Yeah. You were super angry."
"I wasn't mad at you."
I scoff. "Could have fooled me. Anyways, how much longer until we get there? I'm starving."
"Maybe a half-hour. There are more bars in my bag."
I groan. "I want real food. Tell me they can cook."
"They can legit cook. But why are you so hungry today? You scarfed down several meals already. Did you not eat yesterday?"
"Jeez. Are you keeping tabs on my food?"
He lifts his hands off the steering wheel. "No. You normally eat like a rabbit. I'm glad you're eating more. I always worried you weren't eating enough."
"I eat enough, and I'm not a rabbit."
"Yeah, you kind of are."
"Just because I don't eat four tamales doesn't mean I eat like a rabbit."
"No, but that does make you crazy because those were the best tamales I've ever had."
"Shh. Your grandma is going to roll over in her grave," I reprimand him, but know I'm beaming that he loves my tamales.
"Hey, I loved all of her food, and she knows it, but she'd kill for your recipe."
We drive a bit farther. The afternoon is turning into the night when Dirk pulls down a dirt road and then into a driveway.
Farmland surrounds the house, and no other homes are around. Several cars are in the driveway. Dirk turns to me. "Stay in the back until I come get you. I don't know if it's just my family or who these cars belong to."
"Okay."
He kisses me. "Keep the doors locked."
I give him my salute and crawl in the back. My stomach growls.
"I'll be quick, so you can eat."
"Thanks."
I don't know why I'm so hungry, but I am. Nothing sounds better than an authentic Mexican meal, so I hope Dirk's family has something good.
I glance at his backpack. Anything would be better than another macro bar.
Dirk isn't gone long before he knocks on the door. "Zoe. You can come out."
When I step out of the van, a handful of children and two adults are on the front porch, watching us. One of the little girls, who maybe is ten or so, jumps up and down and claps her hands. Her mother tries to stop her, but I laugh and wave. "Hi."