But my brothers? Not so much.
I turned toward them and asked, "Why aren't you working?"
"Weareworking," Steve said.
"Yeah," Anthony said. "We're waiting on an inspection." He leaned back in the booth and gave a long, leisurely stretch. "If we're lucky, the guy won't show 'til tomorrow."
Tomorrow. At the thought, I wanted to dive back onto that bottom bunk and burrow deep under the covers. I gave it a wistful look and felt my enthusiasm fade. The covers looked lumpy, and I couldn’t help but wonder, what would I find if I burrowed deep enough?
I shuddered to think.
Steve's voice cut into my thoughts. "So what'd you get fired for this time?"
I turned to look at him. "Technically, I'm notsureI'm fired. I mean, they're gonna think about it and let me know." I winced. "But to be honest, it's not looking so good."
"What happened?" Anthony asked.
"Well, that's the thing." I gave them a no-nonsense look. "In a way, it's kind of your fault."
Steve and Anthony exchanged a glance. It was Anthony who asked, "Mine? Or Steve's?"
"Both of you," I said.
Steve reached for a new slice of pizza and took a huge bite. With a full mouth, he said, "Nah. It was Anthony's."
I made a sound of frustration. "You don't even know what I'm talking about."
"Don't matter," Steve said. "Because I didn't do it."
"Hey!" Anthony said. "I didn't do it neither."
Watching them eat reminded me of something. I'd skipped breakfast and, come to think of it, lunch, too. I edged closer to the table and looked down at the pizza. There were three slices left. One for each of us?
"Is that a new pizza?" I asked. "Or an old pizza?"
Anthony made a waffling gesture with his hand. "Eh. Depends."
"On what?" I asked.
He grabbed one of the remaining slices and said, "On what you consider old."
I gave the final two slices a closer look. They didn't lookthatold. "So it's from today?"
Anthony gave it some thought. "If you count early this morning as today, then yeah."
"Howearly this morning?" I asked.
"One-thirty."
"You mean from last night?" My shoulders sagged. That meant the pizza was over twelve hours old. I didn't bother asking if they'd refrigerated it. I knew my brothers. They weren't big into food-safety, and besides, the camper's fridge was a beer-only zone.
Steve grabbed the second-to-last piece, leaving just the one. It sat there, looking surprisingly tempting in spite of its advanced age. I drew back. No. The last thing I needed was botulism, or whatever you got from eating old food.
Steve looked to Anthony and said, "Ten bucks she eats it."
I gave him a look. "Save your money. I'm not gonna eat it. It's probably spoiled by now."
"Dude," Steve said, "pizzaneverspoils."
