didn’t press me on details. Mom, on the other hand, would have wanted a minute-by-minute account of our time away from the hotel. And that’s why dads make great anti-moms.
After the text arrived, Luke and I stopped to ask an English-speaking vendor where we could find Hidalgo and Morelos. He pointed the way, but Luke’s internal GPS—he could always find food when he needed to—didn’t let us down. He spotted the taco stand from a half-mile away.
Actually, he smelled the taco stand. He stuck his nose in the air. “Another two thousand, six hundred and fifty-two feet this way,” he said, pointing down Hidalgo. He inhaled deeply through his nose. “No, two thousand, six hundred and fifty- one feet, sorry.”
We were a block away when I saw Marisa, Ryan, and Tread, right where they said they’d be. And the Taco Stand Dude, who was giving Tread the evil eye. I thought it was because he didn’t like dogs, but it was simply anger from his anti-chupacabra bias and his belief in all those goat-sucking stereotypes.
He loosened up once he understood Tread was a dog “ muy feo. ” So that was good.
Marisa, however, didn’t seem so happy, even after I filled her in about the uneventful breakfast with my dad.
“He didn’t suspect a thing,” I said. “I told him some story about us being at an Internet café to dig up some information, as if we couldn’t do all that stuff on our phones. You know what he does on his phone? Talks to people. As if that’s why phones were invented.”
I told her we had to be back at the hotel by noon, since Dad had told his bosses we’d be getting in tonight.
“I guess he’s already late,” I said. “But he didn’t seem too concerned even though we’re still four hours away, and that’s without stopping to eat and get gas or—”
“Jed, you need to shut up and pay attention,” Marisa said, suddenly very serious. She looked over her shoulder. “We need to go someplace a little quieter. There’s a park nearby.”
Marisa looked both ways as she stepped into the street.
“Wait a sec.” It was Luke, who was examining the taco stand’s menu as if it was a list of his favorite food. And it was, since anything he could put in his mouth and digest was his favorite food.
“Dude, you ate a half-hour ago,” I said.
“Exactly, so give me a minute,” Luke said, turning to the Taco Dude as he pointed at the menu. “I’ll take numbers one through five, with extra eleven on all of them.”
I shot Luke my usual “Seriously?” look, and he shrugged. “I’m expanding my cultural horizons by delving wholeheartedly into the local cuisine.”
“Why is it the only time you’re eloquent, food is involved?”
“Give me some time to look up ‘eloquent,’ and I’ll get back to you.”
Once Luke had all the tools he needed to expand his cultural horizons—and expand the stains on his shirt—the four of us and Tread dodged across the street to a small park. We huddled under a tree so sparse it looked like it should have died years ago. So it was my kind of tree.
“Can we maybe go somewhere for real shade?” Luke asked.
“Luke, what did you do with all that food?” Marisa asked. She was so cute when she was naïve.
“I ate it? Because that’s why I bought it? And how the Taco Dude makes a living?” Luke said. He phrased everything as a question when responding with what he thought were too-obvious answers.
“Can we get on with it?” I said. A dark look came across Marisa’s face. “That was a real question, not sarcastic, I swear.”
Marisa plopped on the ground, and so did Ryan, Luke, and I. Even Tread joined us, quickly rolling on his back and shutting his eyes. It was so hot, I wished I could do the same.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Marisa said. “But that’s exactly what I have.” She tilted, lifting her bottom slightly off the ground.
“Are you going to fart?” Luke said. “Because I wouldn’t say that’s totally bad news.
After the text arrived, Luke and I stopped to ask an English-speaking vendor where we could find Hidalgo and Morelos. He pointed the way, but Luke’s internal GPS—he could always find food when he needed to—didn’t let us down. He spotted the taco stand from a half-mile away.
Actually, he smelled the taco stand. He stuck his nose in the air. “Another two thousand, six hundred and fifty-two feet this way,” he said, pointing down Hidalgo. He inhaled deeply through his nose. “No, two thousand, six hundred and fifty- one feet, sorry.”
We were a block away when I saw Marisa, Ryan, and Tread, right where they said they’d be. And the Taco Stand Dude, who was giving Tread the evil eye. I thought it was because he didn’t like dogs, but it was simply anger from his anti-chupacabra bias and his belief in all those goat-sucking stereotypes.
He loosened up once he understood Tread was a dog “ muy feo. ” So that was good.
Marisa, however, didn’t seem so happy, even after I filled her in about the uneventful breakfast with my dad.
“He didn’t suspect a thing,” I said. “I told him some story about us being at an Internet café to dig up some information, as if we couldn’t do all that stuff on our phones. You know what he does on his phone? Talks to people. As if that’s why phones were invented.”
I told her we had to be back at the hotel by noon, since Dad had told his bosses we’d be getting in tonight.
“I guess he’s already late,” I said. “But he didn’t seem too concerned even though we’re still four hours away, and that’s without stopping to eat and get gas or—”
“Jed, you need to shut up and pay attention,” Marisa said, suddenly very serious. She looked over her shoulder. “We need to go someplace a little quieter. There’s a park nearby.”
Marisa looked both ways as she stepped into the street.
“Wait a sec.” It was Luke, who was examining the taco stand’s menu as if it was a list of his favorite food. And it was, since anything he could put in his mouth and digest was his favorite food.
“Dude, you ate a half-hour ago,” I said.
“Exactly, so give me a minute,” Luke said, turning to the Taco Dude as he pointed at the menu. “I’ll take numbers one through five, with extra eleven on all of them.”
I shot Luke my usual “Seriously?” look, and he shrugged. “I’m expanding my cultural horizons by delving wholeheartedly into the local cuisine.”
“Why is it the only time you’re eloquent, food is involved?”
“Give me some time to look up ‘eloquent,’ and I’ll get back to you.”
Once Luke had all the tools he needed to expand his cultural horizons—and expand the stains on his shirt—the four of us and Tread dodged across the street to a small park. We huddled under a tree so sparse it looked like it should have died years ago. So it was my kind of tree.
“Can we maybe go somewhere for real shade?” Luke asked.
“Luke, what did you do with all that food?” Marisa asked. She was so cute when she was naïve.
“I ate it? Because that’s why I bought it? And how the Taco Dude makes a living?” Luke said. He phrased everything as a question when responding with what he thought were too-obvious answers.
“Can we get on with it?” I said. A dark look came across Marisa’s face. “That was a real question, not sarcastic, I swear.”
Marisa plopped on the ground, and so did Ryan, Luke, and I. Even Tread joined us, quickly rolling on his back and shutting his eyes. It was so hot, I wished I could do the same.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Marisa said. “But that’s exactly what I have.” She tilted, lifting her bottom slightly off the ground.
“Are you going to fart?” Luke said. “Because I wouldn’t say that’s totally bad news.
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