Chapter 17“LuckyThirteenFive. All one word.”
The house still smelled like chicken pot pie when I finally came inside after Cyan and I got home from our first driving lesson together.
“And the number five, not spelled out.”
I did way better going forward than I had trying to back up with Waz. Cyan claimed he wasn’t even nervous.
He’d asked for my email password as soon as we came through the door. Then, he asked why I was covered in mud.
The corn patch. My ring. While Cyan was inside trying to break into my computer, I was violently yanking out cornstalks by their roots, smacking some against the side of the house, and then on my hands and knees digging in rich soil looking for my ring. After about five minutes of tantrum throwing and corn chucking, I decided to wait until it was light
