By the time the lunch bell rang, the quad erupted. Students poured in from every direction, filling the benches, sidewalks, and stairs like a tidal wave. And where did that wave crash? Right at the foot of Sweet & Savory Streets.
I had survived breakfast. I had survived morning prep. But this? This was a warzone disguised as a food truck.
Tina smacked a tray into my hands. "Don't think—move. Remember: orders stack, mistakes multiply. Stay sharp."
"Got it," I said, though my voice cracked like I was fourteen again.
The first order wasn't bad. Fries, a churro, and a soda. Easy. The second was slightly more complicated: three bubble teas, two with boba, one without, plus fries "extra crispy." I stumbled a little but got through it.
Then came the third order. Six churros. Two bubble teas. A lemonade. Fries with extra salt. A student named Jerome, already looking impatient, tapped his foot while I scrambled.
"Bro, you good?" he asked.
"Y-yeah… one second—" I fumbled with the fryer, nearly dropping a churro into the lemonade.
Jerome smirked. "Take your time, rookie. I ain't in a rush or nothing."
Behind him, the line doubled.
Tina's voice cut through the chaos: "Ty! Don't freeze—flow!"
Flow? I wasn't a river; I was a broken faucet spraying everywhere.
Marky hopped inside, laughing like this was all a game. "Yo, lemme help before you drown."
He slid fries into containers like a magician. I grabbed bubble tea lids and sealed them with the press. For one wild moment, we actually worked together, the orders moving down the counter like a conveyor belt.
"See?" Marky said. "Not so bad when you stop panicking."
I glared at him, but inside I was grateful.
Just when things started clicking, disaster struck.
A girl ordered a peanut butter bubble tea—don't ask me why that was on the menu. I grabbed the jar too fast, the lid wasn't screwed on, and the next thing I knew, sticky peanut butter splattered across the counter.
The line gasped like they'd just witnessed a murder.
Tina's eyes narrowed. "Ty."
"I—I'll clean it!" I grabbed a rag, but the peanut butter just smeared wider. Students started whispering, phones came out, and I swear someone muttered, 'He's trending on campus TikTok by sunset.'
Keisha, sketchbook in her lap as usual, looked up from her bench outside and smirked. "Nice technique. Abstract art, huh?"
I buried my face in my arm for half a second, then went back to scrubbing.
While I fought peanut butter, Tiny and Rash appeared at the side of the truck. Tiny was munching on free fries he had absolutely not paid for, while Rash leaned on the rail, watching like it was theater.
"Yo, Ty!" Rash called. "Don't drown, my guy!"
"Want me to help?" Tiny added, stuffing more fries in his mouth.
"No!" I barked, just as a tray slipped from my hands and nearly took out a bubble tea tower.
"Yeah," Rash said, laughing, "you got it under control."
Of course, because the universe hates me, Dante "D-Money" Rivers and Flip showed up at the peak of the chaos. Dante leaned against the truck like he owned it, smirk wide as ever.
"Yo, rookie," he said, "lemme get a churro. Extra sugar. And don't drop it this time."
The line snickered. My hands twitched, but I focused, fried it, dusted it, and handed it over. Not perfect, but solid.
Dante took a bite, raised an eyebrow, and nodded. "Not bad, rookie. Don't get cocky though."
And with that, he left. Weirdly, his approval stung worse than his insults.
By the end of the rush, my shirt was sticky, my hands ached, and my hoodie smelled like peanut butter and fryer oil. But somehow, some way, I survived.
The line finally thinned, leaving the quad buzzing with students eating, laughing, and gossiping. My ears rang, but for the first time all day, I realized I wasn't panicking. My movements had started to match Tina's rhythm.
Tina finally gave me a small nod. Just a nod, but coming from her, it felt like being knighted.
"You're not hopeless," she said flatly, then went back to counting bills.
I leaned against the counter, half-dead but weirdly proud.
Later, sitting under a tree with my notebook, I scribbled furiously. The page filled with messy doodles: churros flying like rockets, a peanut butter jar exploding like a grenade, Dante's smug face drawn with devil horns.
The quad was loud, alive, and messy. But so was I. For once, it didn't feel like chaos was swallowing me. It felt like I was learning how to dance with it.
And maybe… just maybe… I was starting to belong here.