11
“You seem in a good mood today.” Dr. McCoy opens the box I’ve brought from the food truck. It’s the end of my second week working alongside Luke and although I’ve set the grill alight three times, he hasn’t fired me, which means I’ve gained five pounds. But he also taught me to make the perfect over-easy egg without tearing the yolk, so we’re even.
And as yet, my sleuth skills have not detected the presence of a girlfriend.
“So much has happened since I last saw you,” I say.
“Well, you have fifty-two minutes to fill me in.” She bites into a small glazed cherry turnover.
I rattle off the boring stuff—the dye-pack incident, getting laid off from the paper, Luke offering the food-truck gig, the ridiculous dinner with my family but how Luke saved the day with Star Wars—oh, and my fathe
