I open up my Styrofoam container, and the smell of steak quesadillas drifts up to my nose. “What did you get?” I lean over as Tyler opens up his box. There's a half-eaten baked potato and a half-eaten steak. I gasp. “Somebody ate yours!” “What?” He looks down. “No, they didn't. It looks fine to me.” He moves the box so I can’t see it.
