Andrew and I loved Uncle Leroy when we were kids because he’d sometimes let us climb up into his fire truck. But one time, I ate too much fried dough and threw up on the front seat. I’m not sure I’ve ever been forgiven for that.

“That sucks,” Hannah says. “Andrew throws a party and gets a glamorous job out of it, and you get stuck with the electric chair.”

“Poison,” I correct.

She pulls the Jeep out of the parking lot, tires spraying slush onto the sidewalk, and heads in the direction of the university. As we drive closer to campus, cresting the hill on Woodhaven, the same bright Dunkin’ Donuts sign from yesterday comes into view.

“Here are some stores that have employees,” Hannah says, her voice deadpan. “If you’re lucky, they might need some more.”

She turns into the lot and slides the Jeep into a parking spot. I look at the stores spread out in front of us, feeling depressed at the thought of working at any of them. At the end of the lot is an old sad Chinese restaurant, aptly named “Chinese Food Restaurant,” the once bright letters of the sign faded to a sickly yellow. It’s the mecca for Prescott stoners because the all-you-can-eat buffet is only $5.99. I went there once with Andrew and Hannah in tenth grade, and we all got food poisoning and spent the rest of the night sprawled out on the floor of Andrew’s room in pain, taking turns running to the bathroom.

Another reason I can’t wait to get out of Prescott: better food. Last year, I went with Hannah and her parents to New York City to check out NYU. We all already knew she was going to apply—her parents pretty much never stop talking about it—but we wanted to see the campus for ourselves. We ate at so many cool places—breakfast burritos at a corner bodega, lunch at her mom’s favorite secret ramen spot, and dinner at this amazing Indian restaurant with food so spicy it made me sweat. That’s what I want more of. Green Mountain Grocery doesn’t even sell hot sauce.

Next to Chinese Food Restaurant is an old video store Andrew and I used to love when we were kids. I’m actually kinda surprised to see it’s still in business. A while back, it started stocking textbooks to sell to students and then opened a cafe in the front of the store. I guess coffee and cookie sales have kept it afloat, but the new Dunkin’ Donuts will probably put an end to that.

“I’m leaning toward prostitution,” I say.

“Look! The video place is hiring.” Hannah grins. I think at first that she’s kidding, but sure enough, when I squint my eyes I can just make out the red hiring sign tacked to the front of the store.

“No.”