08 | exes and distractions

3.7K 106 108
                                    


Jo

"I MADE YOU a little something," Woody says as he hits the breaks of his truck. As usual, it doesn't stop completely so the buzz of the engine is audible underneath the sound of the Beatles that plays from his stereo.

"What?" I smile.

"Hang on," he shushes before standing from his seat and moving towards the kitchenette in the back. While he's rummaging through and there's a clash of forks, I close my eyes and absorb the Beatles as much as I can to get me through the day.

"Here it is."

I take the lunchbox from his hand and take off the lid and the best aroma hits me. "You made me the sandwiches."

He settles back in the driver's seats and puts his hands on his blonde head. "The sandwiches."

I hesitantly close the lid and resist the urge to take a bite right this instant. When Woody's dad was alive, he made us these peculiar sandwiches whenever my brother and I came over to play with Woody, his own recipe, as he was the second owner of this current food truck. It was the only reason why I hung out with Woody to be honest. Woody and Drew were a notorious pair when they were younger and I'd pick the sandwiches any day even if it meant spotting a few bruised elbows or knees from the sand.

I haven't had one since he died.

"When did you learn?" I ask him curiously. It's like an onslaught of childhood memories have attacked my brain.

"I picked up one or two things from dad when he made them. Or sometimes, he'd have me work in the kitchen with him. I just wasn't confident enough to do it alone but sales were low yesterday and I decided to give it a try," he explains and then turns to me with a sly smile.

"Figured you'd be the best to have the first taste of my death trap."

I hit him on the shoulder. "I'm sure it's good."

"Mhm."

I laugh. "I'm serious. I'll give you a review, trust me. You know I'm always honest."

Woody shrugs with a grin and then looks to the window. "You should get going," he says and turns to me. "Some kid's been looking here every few seconds."

I turn to the window and see Flynn aimlessly kicking a rock while staring at his shoes. His hands are in the pockets of the dark funny looking coat he's wearing above his usual black Tee and trousers and he looks up once more and meets my eyes with a curious expression before darting towards Woody.

I narrow my eyes at him and then I turn to Woody before patting his shoulder. "See you."

He waves as I open the door and turn towards school before driving off. I narrow my eyes at Flynn before walking past him, doing so as I ask, "What do you want?"

"I want to know if you're okay."

I stop in my tracks and turn to him with my brows in my hairline. "Come again?"

He leans on his heels and glances back at Woody's receding truck. "You get a ride to school every morning from a druggie. I'm not the only one who's curious." He gestures to some of the people who look at me and look away and I sling my back higher up my shoulder. I'm used to the stares.

The Flynn Effect Where stories live. Discover now