Chosen

Chapter 17

The following morning, the day of the harvest festival, Jay approaches me at breakfast. "Hey," he says as he sits down across from me. I stare at him, frozen, spoon halfway to my mouth.

"H—hey," I stammer, as the oatmeal on my spoon falls back into my bowl with a plop.

Jay's eyes are downcast. "Um...so...look. I'm really sorry," he picks at his food, which is really unlike him. Finally, he looks up. "I was way out of line. Of course I'd never want you to be unhappy. I hope you know that. I didn't mean it when I said we were done. I want to be friends, no matter what happens. Is that okay, or did I completely wreck things?" He asks me, unsure.

"Of course you didn't wreck things, Jay. I took you for granted and wasn't fair to you," I reply, relieved that we're making up after going so long without talking. "I'm sorry for everything. I want nothing more than to be friends again."

"Nothing more," Jay echoes with a small smile, but he looks relieved too, and starts eating with gusto.

I finally lower my spoon back to my bowl to continue my own breakfast. When I look up again, Jay is staring across the room with a sour look on his face. "What's wrong?" I ask, tilting my head questioningly.

"Nothing. Just that medic guy," Jay mutters, eating another spoonful.

"Oh—um, about that." Following Jay's gaze I see West wending his way through the dining hall straight towards us, breakfast tray in hand.

Jay snaps his head around and looks right at me. "About what, Elia?" As West gets closer, Jay's expression grows darker. "Are you friends now or something?"

"Or something," I say without thinking. Shit.

Before Jay can reply, West slides into the seat next to me. "Good morning," he says politely to Jay before starting to eat. Jay fixes me with an accusing glare. I bite my lip and give him an apologetic look.

Jay arranges his face into a stiffly polite expression, but not before I see a flash of hurt. "Morning," he replies curtly to West, before stacking his now empty dishes onto his own tray. "See you around, Elia," he shoves back from the table and stalks off.

I sigh. "Well, we were almost friends again," I murmur, poking at my oatmeal with my spoon.

West rubs my back. The gesture surprises me a little—I didn't think he would be this comfortable displaying affection or closeness in public. I lean into him anyway, resting my head on his shoulder briefly before sitting up straight again.

"I'm sorry things are still bad between you," West says sincerely.

I look at him, amazed and grateful. "Well, they were getting better for a minute there before you showed up. We'll get there. Thank you," I say, giving up on breakfast for now. Now this is how someone who supports you is supposed to be. I know it's hard for West too, since Jay has been so important to me for so long. "So, are you ready for the harvest festival?" I ask.

"What, an extra helping of your favorite food, plus a boring speech?" West retorts, rolling his eyes. "Sure, can't wait."

I giggle a little. It's true, the harvest festival isn't really much of a celebration, although my grandmother told me it used to be, long before I was born. It wasn't even a harvest festival then, it was called called Thanksgiving, just one of many holidays the community used to celebrate, traditions carried on after descending underground. I feel a sense of longing to return to a time where joy and celebrating togetherness were still part of our way of life, even if it's a time I never knew. "You're right. My grandmother Juniper will be saying a few words this year, though, so it won't be completely boring," I point out.