The Unconditional Pledge

13 Ava

One of the worst experiences of high school, I'm sure all teens can agree, is not knowing where to sit in the cafeteria. Standing alone while balancing a tray of food in your arms before the sea of chattering kids is the worst, especially in Fieldbrook, where the view is pretty no matter where you sit. It's clear who's occupying the best seats, which are by the huge windows that overlook the garden: the popular seniors, followed by a few lucky juniors. Behind them, in the next best seats, are the people who make the outer circle of the popular kids. And in the very back, almost as though shoved out of view, are the people Fieldbrook doesn't want to showcase, all the students who don't classify to be pretty enough.

And here, in front of all, I stand motionlessly, as though I'm in a bad dream. I usually sit with Hannah, but today I agreed to meet with Megan Amante, my project partner, at lunch. And she just so happens to be sitting by the windows.

"And then she actually gave him the lap dance!"

By the time I reach the table, conversation is in full bloom. In the very middle sits Paige, her long blonde hair piled neatly on her head in a bun, next to Megan, who's taken off her blazer and slung it over her shoulders instead. Megan is popular not just because she's built like Adriana Lima and set to be class valedictorian, but she's kind of a veteran when it comes to the games. She famously announced her "retirement" at the beginning of this year because she can't risk trouble in her senior year, not when she's aiming for valedictorian, and also because she's won so many rounds of the Pledge that the only ideas left are mostly illegal.

I stand there, feeling uncomfortable, and wait for Megan to notice me. I can't believe that I had blended right into this group just little over a year ago. Nick Sawyer lounges comfortably on the seat next to Paige, flipping through his iPhone as he spins a fork between his fingers. Eric Lanthe is talking to Courtney, who doesn't notice me even though I'm standing less than two yards away from her. She never sits with Hannah and I at lunch, and now that I'm up close, I can see why. She's leaning forward on one elbow, trying to sneak a look at Ashton, who's busy talking to Jacob Miller about something that involves lots of hand gestures. If Hannah and I were here, we'd never let Courtney hear the end of it.

"Hi, Ava," Megan says loudly once she catches sight of me. She's sitting on top of the round table, one hand on what looks like a veggie sandwich and the other slung over her knees. "Saved you a seat." Megan stares pointedly at the girl next to her, a junior I recognize from my history class, until she moves down.

I take the spot hesitantly. "Thanks."

She says, "No problem," and takes another delicate bite of her sandwich. Paige mutters something to her and she nods thoughtfully, examining her lavender nails. After a moment, Megan tells me, "This project fucking sucks," like it's meant to be an ice breaker.

I avoid Megan's eyes and look down at my dry salad, pretending to be interested in the lettuce. "Doesn't it though?" I say finally, deciding it's an acceptable answer.

She puts her half-finished sandwich back in the wrapper and expertly tosses it into the trash. "So should we talk here? Or do you want to do it in a classroom?"

From across the table, Ashton looks up and smiles impishly at Megan. "Do what in a classroom, Amante?"

She smirks. "It's not something virgins would understand, Lee."

People laugh, but they always do, even if it isn't funny. "I think we could just talk here," I tell her. "But maybe a quieter place?"

Megan pushes her dark hair back behind her ears, shrugging. "Okay." She hops off the table, brushing past Juliby, who, like Paige, has been ignoring me. "Are you going to finish your lunch?"