“One Hoboken special and a turkey club, no onions.” Mia’s voice rose over the sound of the crowd outside the food truck.
A warm California breeze blew in through the open window, smelling like fried onions and saltwater…and Mia’s orange blossom perfume.
Ben flipped two filets of chicken on the sizzling griddle before moving to work on the sandwich order. With a glance out the window, he saw it belonged to their last customer.
Relieved, he finished up the order, and fifteen minutes later, he was slouching into a folding chair at the back of the truck. He ran his fingers through his hair, let out a long sigh, and propped his feet up on a cooler. Mia pulled off her baseball cap, and her coffee brown curls tumbled around her shoulders.
Ben’s breath caught, and he studied his shoelaces like they held all the world’s secrets. Did she see the blush heating up his face? Continue reading “The Friend Zone”
Chicago. March 17th, 1960
Mrs. O’Toole set the newspaper down on the table beside his steaming mug of coffee and Doran glanced at the headlines. Something about three women from Riverside being murdered and Eisenhower endorsing Nixon. He turned away from the paper with a sigh. Continue reading “Not Quite Done”
Shawna sat against the hard, brick wall of the school, her head in her hands. It was a perfect, California day full of sun and warm, sea breezes. Everyone around her was eating or talking with friends in the outdoor cafeteria area. But Shawna was in no mood for any of that right now. Ever since the phone call from Jamie’s dad last night, it felt as if someone had stabbed her heart with a red-hot poker. She still couldn’t believe her best friend had tried to Continue reading “Stand Up”
“Come on, Lucas, you’re gonna get caught.”
“No, I’m not; this firewall’s about as complicated as a Pop-Tart,” he answered, fingers flying across his keyboard. “I’ll be in and out before anyone knows I was there.”
Jackson shook his head as he watched the codes streaming down the computer screen. “Dude, this is serious. We could go to jail for something like this.” Continue reading “HACK3R”
Jonathan’s soul burned within him as he walked, remembering his father’s words.
The quick, low chirruping of a sandgrouse in a cypress tree echoed across the plain. The morning clouds glowed fiery orange against the lightening purple sky.
When he reached the field, he stopped and turned to the boy with him. “‘Run, find out now the arrows which I shoot.’”
The boy took off through the prairie grass with the swiftness of youth.
Jonathan pulled an arrow out of the quiver at his back, readied it in his longbow, and released. It whipped through the air and landed several hundred feet beyond the boy. Continue reading “Saving David”