TWENTY-THREE
Alma“Are you sure you don’t want me to go home with you? I don’t mind. I feel bad that you have to face your dad on your own,” I say to Amos over my half-eaten plate of eggs.
He shakes his head. “No. You’ll have more fun here. Plus, I don’t think it will be that bad. What does he have to yell at me about? My grades are perfect.”
“I know, but I’m afraid he’ll find something.”
“It will be fine. I swear,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee.
It’s been a while since Amos and I have had a meal alone together. He stayed over with Quinn last night, but she had to get up early to go help her mom and sisters cook the food for Thanksgiving. Many of the local restaurants are closed, but Luca’s Coney Island is open, and his breakfast food is just as good as the chili-cheese f
