She keeps eating, chomping at the sandwich like a ravenous pitbull. She doesn’t even try to be ladylike. It’s surprisingly sexy.
When she’s done inhaling the sandwich, she gives the Mountain Dew the same treatment. “Mmm,” she says when it’s all gone, smacking her lips appreciatively.
She frowns as if she doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about. “Are you hangry, too? Should I have saved you a bite so Dani Boy’s blood sugar doesn’t get too low and he gets cwanky?” She says it just like that, with a well-rehearsed baby voice. Cwanky.
“No, I’m not hungry,” I snap.
“Just cwanky then. What else is new?”
She dusts off her lap and discards the empty brown paper bag at her feet. Somewhere between one interstate and the next, she’d peeled off her sweatshirt. Now, she’s in a tight white tan
