The Burning of the Palace at Versailles (or, Butterfly) [REWRITING]

Chapter 20 - Pizza Day

The best day of every month was the third Friday of the month. Jordan would always mark it on her calendar, because the third Friday of the month was Pizza Day. No one ever said the one day of the month when she could eat pizza had to be the third Friday of the month, but she had a scheduled date for it. If she didn't schedule a date for when she could eat her favorite food, she would eat it on the first day of the month and be stuck remembering it for weeks. When it was scheduled, then she had something to look forward to.

And, as it was the third Thursday of the month, Jordan definitely had something to look forward to.

It really was just a formality set up by the modeling agency. Other than a few random fluctuations of a pound or two, her weight had not changed since she was fourteen, no matter how much she ate. She loved all things filled with butter and cream, and when no one was watching, often indulged in them. Even after eating a huge hamburger, a pound of fries, and a bucket of ice cream, she woke up the next morning without the scale showing any difference.

Jordan was lucky, she supposed. Most of the people she worked with would kill someone to have a metabolism like hers. She saw the glares she got when she added creamer to her coffee when everyone else was drinking theirs plain.

So, when the rule of only eating pizza once a month was set in place, Jordan told herself she would stick to it. She marked down the third Friday of the month, and everyone was proud.

The dormitory hall cafeteria was quiet. Day classes had been over for an hour, and it wasn't time for the lunch rush yet. Jordan looked at the food behind all of the fingerprint-stained fiberglass sneeze guards. None of it was restaurant-quality, of course, but it all appealed to her. She made her way to the deli section, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote down what she wanted on her sandwich, and handed it to the boy on duty. For whatever reason, she liked watching the deli employees working. Their movements were all so practiced and precise. She liked the way they picked up the bottles of sauces without even looking, or how easily they took the bread out of the oven as if it wasn't hundreds of degrees inside.

"Hey, Jordan!" a feminine voice said from somewhere near her. Jordan turned away from the sight of the boy putting the "extra lettuce" on her sandwich and looked at who had spoken. One of her classmates, Rebecca, was standing there, the green apron and cap of the cafeteria employees on.

"Oh, hey, Rebecca," Jordan said, suddenly feeling nervous. Rebecca was always nice in class. The geology lab they both had was only fourteen students, so they were all pretty close for three hours every Thursday night. Rebecca was the loudest and made a point of including everyone in the discussions. Jordan was sure she meant well, but she always felt like she wanted to melt through the floor when Rebecca asked what she thought.

"Do you come here often?" Rebecca said, apparently not noticing, or choosing not to notice, how Jordan was suddenly clutching her Coach wallet.

"Not really," Jordan said, letting her eyes drift back to her sandwich being prepared. The boy was "very lightly" putting on the cheddar jack. "I usually make my own food."

"Right, because of the whole modeling thing, right?" Rebecca said.

Jordan frowned. When had she told Rebecca— or anyone— about the modeling thing? Rebecca must have noticed the look of confusion on Jordan's face because she smiled gently. "Your roommate, Summer, is a friend of mine," she explained.

Jordan didn't remember telling the girl who lived in the other single room of the suite about her job, but it didn't surprise her. People in the dorm tended to wonder why Jordan chose to make her own food in the small kitchenette in the suite, rather than pick up inexpensive hamburgers or wraps from the students' lounge. Strawberry salads and smoothies with chia seeds weren't exactly the normal diet of those living in Hayward Hall.