A burrito. Man, no fair.
What’s not fair? he asked.
Burritos are gold where I come from.
Where do you come from?
That’s not fair.
Yeah. Where do you come from?
We’re even then.
My mom’s really into burritos. Says they’re easier to pack then bento boxes because everything’s wrapped into one. She’s always like, “Why waste your time separating everything into neat little sections when all of it is going to look like the inside of a burrito by the time it gets to your stomach anyway?”
Your mom has a point.
Moms are smart that way. What’s your name?
What a weird name.
My mom came up with it. Apparently it was storming when I was born and some guy honored my birth with a whole Samoan Slap Dance outside of the hospital.
Your parents make you come to bible camp too?
Nah, not really. I actually choose to come. But I go to Quran camp too. I’ll even do a Vipassana retreat every once in awhile.
Are you like training to become a rabbi?
Why’d your parents make you come?
Because I started wearing crop tops.
That seems fairly unreasonable.
Tell me about it. You think your mom could make me a burrito tomorrow? This turkey sandwich is barf.
Here. You can have mine.
Isn’t bible camp the best? Opening day is basically like Christmas morning.
Oh, by the way, I’m not going to be able to have lunch with you because there’s a seminar on Psalms that I want to go to.
I can go to the seminar too, he protests.
You can’t. It’s only for women. Sort of like a feminist reading on them.
Men can be feminists too.
Well maybe the church hasn’t gotten the memo. Anyway it’s not a big deal. We can hang out later.
To be fair, we’re not really men or women yet. We’re twelve. So maybe I should write the church a memo on youth seminars recruiting men and women when we’re still prepubescent.
You do that Afa.
But who am I going to eat my burrito with?
Afa we eat every day together. Bible camp is once a year. After camp we can ride bikes and watch the Wonder Years like we always do. It will be fine.
I can tell you all about it later.
Meet me after.
Have fun theorizing about all the male metaphors that show up in those Psalms of yours.
My mom’s going to pick us up at three.