Tender (Book 1 - Complete)

Chapter 9 - Jamie

Warning: As hinted at in the last chapter, Jamie's been in some kind of accident. Now we get to find out what happened, but be warned, it gets slightly graphic.  

Also, I'm sorry if you're offended by talk of farts and poop, but you'll have to forgive Jamie and his friends. They're typical boys... what do you expect? Lol :p

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It's Friday, but somehow, this single day feels like three rolled into one. It's been dragging and I'm nearly drowning in my need to get out of this prison. I'm feeling antsy by the time lunch rolls around. With odd looks from Penny and Clarice—which makes me wonder if they've had a little chit chat recently—and a desperate need for fresh air, I present Drew and Dillon with the idea of going out for lunch.

It's not really permitted by the school to leave the grounds through the day, but seniors tend to have a little leeway... sometimes—depending on who catches you. Without hesitation, both boys agree and we make our way out to the parking lot.

Everything feels so much quieter when you're breaking the rules. It's the eerie feeling that someone's watching. As I hop on my motorcycle, the feeling skitters up my spine and I just know we're going to get caught. And yet, we don't.

Seems luck is on my side today.

We make it to Durty Gurt's burger joint in under five minutes and take our seats to order.

"Have you ever wondered..." Drew begins to say, flipping open his menu and skimming the pages, "when you're in a theater and a stranger is sitting beside you, which one of you gets the armrest? Like, do they expect people to share, or is there some unknown rule that everyone automatically has to use the left one?"

"Uh," I say, brows creased as I consider his question, "then wouldn't it make sense to always sit at the furthest right end of the row? Then you'd always have two armrests."

Both guys take a moment to visualize this before speaking.

"That," Drew says, pointing a salt shaker at me, "is brilliant, my man." His action causes a sprinkling of salt to rain down on the table and I use my forearm to swipe it to the floor.

Now I can't stop thinking about movies and how badly I'd love to set up a projector somewhere out in the woods and watch horror movies all night. I'm even picturing how we'd string a white sheet between two branches to create the screen and then lay out several sleeping bags on the foliage where Penny and I would cuddle as she screams and trembles in fear. Maybe we could somehow hook the projector up to the car battery and—

"You know what else I've always wondered?" he starts to say, breaking my thoughtful silence just as the waitress sets our plates in front of us.

"Thank you," Dillon mutters to the lady, receiving a warm smile from her before she turns to leave.

"Is why do we put the word 'pretty' in front of everything. Like 'pretty much' or 'pretty dumb.'"

"Pretty ugly," I supply.

"Yes!" he exclaims. "Like, what a stupid thing to say. Pretty ugly? How does that make a lick of sense? Why is English such a stupid language?"

"Let's add 'Lick of sense' to that list of stupid sayings," I joke, slapping Drew's shoulder blade.

"Sure makes me glad that English is my mother tongue," Dillon speaks up. "Though, I've heard that Chinese is pretty diffic—

"Did you just say... mother tongue?" Drew blurts, a strange look crossing his face as he slides his drink away and aims a pointed look at Dillon.