Brody and I sit down and Kit goes to get our food.
“Where on earth did you guys get soda from?” I ask him.
“Easy,” he says, as I realize it came off more harshly than I intended.
“Ever heard, don’t kick a gift horse in the mouth ?” he asks smiling.
“Yeah…I have,” I begin, “but I think it’s, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth ?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“Well…it’s an old proverb. It started when some old guy gave some schmuck a free horse and then the schmuck starts counting the teeth, because that’s how they could tell how old the horse was. So instead of being thankful for a free horse, he immediately starts estimating its value by counting it’s teeth, making him…a schmuck.” As the words leave my mouth, the voice in my head is telling me to shut up because I know I sound like a know-it-all, but I find myself unable to control it. Kit rolls her eyes, because she’s actually heard this from me before.
“Interesting...I’ll have to remember that,” Bentley says, more amused than irritated.
Brody’s now impatient and tugging on my shirt as if to say, “Can I drink it?” I pop the top for him after I inspect it and he starts to gulp it down.
“So,” I say, “it’s just that I couldn’t help but notice you guys seem to have so many supplies even we didn’t have on the farm. Just curious where you get all the stuff.”
“We have our ways,” he teases with an impossible grin. I can see he probably doesn’t have to explain much. Just gives one of those smiles and all is forgotten.
Some other guys I recognize from earlier join us at the table and Bentley does introductions. I’ll leave that discussion for now, but I’m determined to get to the bottom of all of this.
I don’t know why he’s being so secretive anyway. What’s the big deal?
Kit seems to be having the time of her life. She’s telling stories about back home and she has every guy at the table hanging on to her every word. I find myself drifting off thinking about home. She has always been more comfortable being away from home. I imagine that right now there’s nowhere else she would rather be. She has a full supply of cute boys, who can’t seem to get enough of her, and she’s away from her bickering parents and what she calls the “misery hellhole” in her house.
Truth is, she is probably meant for this life. She’s always ready to roll with the punches, but I can’t help but wish I was back home. Brody would be cuddled in Mom’s lap. I might be reading The Great Gatsby by the fireplace while Dad snores in his chair, having fallen asleep after a hard day of chores. It’s still hard to imagine just a few days ago, I sat around daydreaming about getting out of that life, but now that I am, I can’t wait to get back in.
Chapter 9
The next morning we are met with another mouth-watering breakfast, which I didn’t eat since I was planning on taking another run. It was tough to deny, but the idea of gut rot and side stitches steered me clear.
Brody seems to have picked up his appetite though and he’s eating enough for the both of us. It’s some sort of biscuits and gravy that could put any top chef to shame.
The more I look around, the more it seems as if everyone has jobs. The cooks are busy preparing the meal and others are doing the cleanup.
I see another couple of kids hauling supplies into the cabins, from where I’m not sure. There are even builders, trying to set up more cabins before winter hits.
I sit with Kit and Brody as they eat their breakfast, but really I’m anxious to get out on the trail again. I figure I have time to eat some of this amazing food when I get back. Kit can tell I’m in one of those moods and shoos me off, and promises to take good care of Brody.
Just as I step outside of my tent and prepare to find a good trail to get back into, I run into
“Where on earth did you guys get soda from?” I ask him.
“Easy,” he says, as I realize it came off more harshly than I intended.
“Ever heard, don’t kick a gift horse in the mouth ?” he asks smiling.
“Yeah…I have,” I begin, “but I think it’s, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth ?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“Well…it’s an old proverb. It started when some old guy gave some schmuck a free horse and then the schmuck starts counting the teeth, because that’s how they could tell how old the horse was. So instead of being thankful for a free horse, he immediately starts estimating its value by counting it’s teeth, making him…a schmuck.” As the words leave my mouth, the voice in my head is telling me to shut up because I know I sound like a know-it-all, but I find myself unable to control it. Kit rolls her eyes, because she’s actually heard this from me before.
“Interesting...I’ll have to remember that,” Bentley says, more amused than irritated.
Brody’s now impatient and tugging on my shirt as if to say, “Can I drink it?” I pop the top for him after I inspect it and he starts to gulp it down.
“So,” I say, “it’s just that I couldn’t help but notice you guys seem to have so many supplies even we didn’t have on the farm. Just curious where you get all the stuff.”
“We have our ways,” he teases with an impossible grin. I can see he probably doesn’t have to explain much. Just gives one of those smiles and all is forgotten.
Some other guys I recognize from earlier join us at the table and Bentley does introductions. I’ll leave that discussion for now, but I’m determined to get to the bottom of all of this.
I don’t know why he’s being so secretive anyway. What’s the big deal?
Kit seems to be having the time of her life. She’s telling stories about back home and she has every guy at the table hanging on to her every word. I find myself drifting off thinking about home. She has always been more comfortable being away from home. I imagine that right now there’s nowhere else she would rather be. She has a full supply of cute boys, who can’t seem to get enough of her, and she’s away from her bickering parents and what she calls the “misery hellhole” in her house.
Truth is, she is probably meant for this life. She’s always ready to roll with the punches, but I can’t help but wish I was back home. Brody would be cuddled in Mom’s lap. I might be reading The Great Gatsby by the fireplace while Dad snores in his chair, having fallen asleep after a hard day of chores. It’s still hard to imagine just a few days ago, I sat around daydreaming about getting out of that life, but now that I am, I can’t wait to get back in.
Chapter 9
The next morning we are met with another mouth-watering breakfast, which I didn’t eat since I was planning on taking another run. It was tough to deny, but the idea of gut rot and side stitches steered me clear.
Brody seems to have picked up his appetite though and he’s eating enough for the both of us. It’s some sort of biscuits and gravy that could put any top chef to shame.
The more I look around, the more it seems as if everyone has jobs. The cooks are busy preparing the meal and others are doing the cleanup.
I see another couple of kids hauling supplies into the cabins, from where I’m not sure. There are even builders, trying to set up more cabins before winter hits.
I sit with Kit and Brody as they eat their breakfast, but really I’m anxious to get out on the trail again. I figure I have time to eat some of this amazing food when I get back. Kit can tell I’m in one of those moods and shoos me off, and promises to take good care of Brody.
Just as I step outside of my tent and prepare to find a good trail to get back into, I run into
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