I got lunch from the Bush’s Chicken close to the high school, off Bosque and New Road. All of the lanes were full up and order runners in red and yellow t-shirts wove their way through the vast array of cars waiting for their food. There weren’t any Bush’s in Dallas, it being a Waco-centric franchise, so I hadn’t had any since leaving for Austin. Once I received my tenders I parked in front of the Putt Putt entrance of Lion’s Park, the small amusement park close to the school.
The small pitted parking lot was empty as I pulled in, so I was certain that I would be undisturbed as I tore into my chicken tenders. The first bite practically melted on my tongue, making my mouth tingle with the long familiar flavor. My mind drifted to the many times my friends and I would leave campus to get the
