Page 10 of Nomad

“Is that a rule?”

“Yes. It’s in the same book that says nobody eats fish sandwiches.”

“You really are a smart ass. Give me an onion ring.”

“You’re gonna smell like onions.”

He chuckled. “You care?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t care.”

“So your pop wanted you to go to college?”

“Yeah.”

“Was he gonna pay for it?”

“Never asked him.”

“What were you gonna study?”

“Not tellin’.”

“Why?”

“’Cause you’d laugh.”

Cann drove in silence for a couple of miles before saying, “Hog calling.”

“What?”

“Since you’re not telling me, I’m gonna guess. I’m thinking of things you might study that would cause somebody to laugh.” She laughed. “So that’s it?”

“No. That’s not it.”

“Underwear engineering.”

“You know that’s not a field of study. Right?”

“Somebody has to figure out how to make it fit. Right?”

“Yes. But I don’t think they go to school for that. They just do trial and error until it’s right.”

“Okay. You name ten things a person such as yourself might go to college to learn and I’ll guess which one you’re interested in.”

She contemplated that while finishing her bite of fish sandwich. “Alright. Ten things. Astronomy. Medieval literature. Mandarin Chinese. City planning. Special education. Psychology. Computer programming. Theater. Architecture. Zoology.” She picked up a couple of French fries and said, “Go,” before putting them in her mouth.

“I get three guesses.”

“Do not.”

“It’s my game. I get three guesses.”

“It’s my life. You do not.”

“So you’re saying I have to nail it on the first try or I’ll never know?”

“Never say never, Johns.”

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