Chapter 17: Part 2

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As we were dismissed by Sav for only an hour, our group of recruits headed to the cafeteria, except for the Lukey twin, for she still had to be assessed. I awkwardly discovered that the twin on her period was Phox and the other, whom I was greeted by in the firing range, was Phix. Carly gave me the best possible tip to remember which twin was which, for she told me that Phox had orange-dyed hair and Phix had indigo-dyed hair. If the correlation was not obvious enough, the third letter in their first names was the initial letter of their chosen hair color.

It was because of the time and the recruits' caved-in stomachs that I realized they were yet to eat lunch, creating a sense of envy to stir in my mind. As we reached the cafeteria, my stomach could only rumble in the sight of the food, which also made me feel incomplete. While the others grabbed a metal platter one by one, I realized I was unintentionally queuing in the line for the trays. I instantly stepped out of the row before apologizing to the person behind who happened to be the menacingly huge Gordann, so apologizing was a necessity unless I wanted an injury.

My stomach made pitiful pleas in the form of several growling noises, as the line shrunk shorter and shorter. It was until the food came down crashing onto Chump's tray that I snapped, which did not take long, considering I was only present in the cafeteria for about a minute.

Without the onset of visions, the metal tray was in my hands after my defeat in the battle of hunger, and so I queued intentionally for the food to be delivered to my plate. Since I was unable to find the caterer who told me off about having seconds, I was showered in relief, but before I went ahead of myself, one of her friends recognized me before I could take three steps deeper in the queue.

She asked me if I was having dinner, for she assumed I had already used up two of my meals, but in fact, I had not. I had not touched nor even seen a single breakfast meal in the building that day, so I argued against her, and even used the four thousand dollar excuse. As stubborn as a tree in a storm, the lunch lady believed I cried wolf, until a familiar face and hairstyle came into view. "Martha, give this kid my dinner," the Silverist kindly offered.

"But you never eat dinner," she sternly debated against anyone that was not in her favor.

"Exactly," he responded with a smirk, to which the lady then began to serve me with the same meal I had almost an hour ago.

"Thank you," I expressed my gratitude to the cyan-haired teenager whose name I humiliatingly forgot.

"Foster, right?" he asked as I answered with a nod and a hum of confirmation.

At first, I dared to try to remember his vague name that started with the fourth letter of the alphabet, but ended up not being bothered to recall his simple yet forgettable name. I gave it to him straight, like a man, and told him that I failed to memorize his name, followed by a hint of embarrassment and remorse. He replied, "That's okay, it's Dinch, and you? I can only remember your last name."

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