Chapter 4 | Learning the Basics
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It's no surprise when lunch rolls around and I have no one to sit with. I can't say I mind too much either. I'd rather spend the time alone rereading my favorite book of all time, The Hunger Games (for the 23rd time) than overhear anymore ridiculous gossip about me. On a different note, I think I possibly downloaded the copy of the book illegally. Don't worry, no police have come looking for me yet. Therefore, I'm keeping it until then.
I approach one of the lines of tables near a row of vending machines, lunch in one hand and phone clutched in the other. As soon as fellow students see where I'm headed, everyone in the nearby vicinity disperses. I try to pay them no heed, but I can't help moodily setting my tray down with a loud smack. Eager to distract myself from the rejection I've just received, I turn my attention towards my bosco sticks. Food always makes things better.
I pick one up, but as soon as my fingers touch their crusty surface I know something isn't right about them. They were the least questionable option of the lunch menu, nevertheless they still don't look edible. I wish the school would just serve big bags of Ruffles. It probably would not be the most healthy option, but I would eat and enjoy them for lunch every single day.
Unfortunately I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon, so I have no other option but to give the food a chance. It's either that or let myself starve the entire rest of the evening, which I would rather not put myself through. Only driven by the will to settle my knawing hunger, I slowly raise the peculiar food to my mouth.
I can't say I'm sorrowful when a passerby bumps into my arm, knocking the food out of my hand. It clunks on the round similar to a hard rock.
"I'm so sorry," a feminine voice apologizes. When I curiously look up, I'm met with the gaze of a girl around my age. Her skin tone appears naturally tan and when she leans in a little closer I can spot clusters of faint freckles that dot her cheeks. Her strongest quality is her hair though, which is a bright blond in messy beach curls that compliment her warm brown eyes.
"I feel bad," she continues with a grimace. "I'll buy you another if you want."
"Oh, no you're fine," I assure. "It didn't look too good anyway."
Even though I'm hungry, half of me is glad I didn't eat it. If I would've and it was as hard as it seemed when it dropped, I could've walked out of the lunchroom looking like a hockey player.
"Oh yeah. I guess no one has told you the food here absolutely sucks. The lunch ladies shouldn't be lunch ladies." She dramatically looks around the room to make sure no one is watching before whispering, "Between you and me, I think one of them injects her botox into the food."
At the absurd accusation I give her a weirded out look, to which she shrugs her shoulders to. "Where else will they be able to test how big it will make their lips?"
I can't help but crack a smile. "You really think so?"
She crosses her heart, eyes wide with seriousness. "Live by it. The only thing that are close to safe are the chicken nuggets."
After a moment of consideration I nod in agreement, pushing the remaining food on the plate away from me. My hunger can wait, and besides, I'm suddenly not hungry anymore. "Thanks for the info. I'll make sure not to buy the bosco sticks anymore."
She laughs, giving me a toothy smile before turning around, walking away in the other direction, probably to head towards whatever table her friends are at. I begin to pull out my phone with the electronic copy of The Hunger Games from my backpocket, figuring this is the end of the conversation. To my surprise however, her sneakers skid to a halt as she stops in her tracks, pausing as if she's considering something before she pivots on her heels and points to the table with a quizzical look.
"Is anyone sitting here?" She asks, acrylic nail pointing to the seat directly across from me. I shake my head no.
She delicately sits down on the empty chair, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. "I heard you're new, and I want to welcome you to the school. Let me introduce myself. I'm Taylor, Taylor Callas. You're Kirsten, right?"
"That'd be me. I'm guessing you heard that from the rumors spreading around," I say, trying to keep the annoyance out of my tone.
"Actually no, although I did manage to hear a couple last period. I know you mainly because I was supposed to show you around, but you never made it to the library. I just wanted to meet you," she explains. I question the truth behind the words, but her face mirrors what the sincerity in her words.
"That's you? Sorry about standing you up, I tried looking but then, uh, things happened."
She doesn't seem fazed, giving me a short shrug. "It's alright. I know you don't really know your way around the school anyways. Also, can I stress how stupid this school is? How in the world do they expect you to be shown the ropes right before school starts? I question the minds of adults sometimes." She rolls her eyes. "I'm just sorry I couldn't help."
She pauses, brown eyes drifting upwards in thought. I'm about to ask what she's thinking about before her eyes snap open and she voices her thoughts. "I know what I can do though." She leans in, lowering her voice as if she's going to tell me a secret. "I know this us going to sound cliche, but this school has major stereotypes. There are some people you don't want to talk to if you don't want everyone knowing your business."
I scoff. "Too late for that."
"Yeah, you'd be surprised how many people run their mouths. Privacy doesn't seem like a concept many people know. I swear, you'd think these girls would even tell their moms in detail how many times their boyfriends went dow─"
"Taylor," I interrupt, partly because I don't know if I want to hear the rest of the sentence and partly to get her back on task.
"Right," she remembers. "So the guy you ran into? Noah? He's the last one in the lunchline with his friends Sam and Axel."
She snaps her head to the left, motioning for me to look in that direction. Sure enough when my eyes slide over there, three large framed teenage boys stand in the lunch line completely oblivious to our staring. The one in the middle is Noah, I can tell just by the plain white T-shirt. To his right, there's an equally intimidating boy with brown hair and attire that consists of white high tops, faded jeans, and a black polo. He reaches over Noah's shoulder, bopping the person to Noah's left on the head. It takes me a minute before I recognize him as Axel, the boy who had talked to me before lunch. I wonder what he did to deserve that from the boy who has to be Sam -who I figured out by process of elimination.
I must be staring at them for a long while, because Taylor taps the table to regain my attention. My eyes instantly avert from the boys, and when they lock back with Taylor's, I find her giving me a certain look. Unsure what she's hinting at, I wait for her to elaborate.
A teasing smirk makes it's way onto her glossed lips, and a single eyebrow arches in question. "Are you checking them out?"
"No," I reply quickly. "One is a douche, another is a bully, and the last is too happy for his own good. Why, I'm guessing all three are big hot shots?" I don't even know why I ask the question, the answer is completley obvious. Those boys are the definition of Calvin Klein models. Of course they're popular.
Taylor thinks nothing of it. "Yup. Literally every girl is obsessed over at least one of them. It becomes a normal thing to hear girls gossiping about them in the hallways."
Inquistive, I can't help but ask the question that lingers on my lips. "Well do they have girlfriends?"
Her eyes break away from mine, glancing back towards the boys. "Sam and Axel are single as far as I know, but Noah isn't. Sort of. I guess it's complicated, but basically he hooks up with this one girl every day, but it's a loose relationship— if a relationship is even what you would call it. When he's absent I see her in the hallways kissing other dudes." She pauses, and in the second she does her expression morphs into one full of annoyance. "Speak of the devil and she shall appear."
Curiosity overwhelms my entire being, and I can't help but whip my head towards the sudden build of commotion behind me. Like me, people left and right seem to drop whatever they're doing just to glimpse at the person strutting in. Everything seems like a staged high school movie. There's stares of jealously thrown from one table, stares of hate thrown from the other. I'm in the category consisting as hate. My eyes are glued to the scenario in front of me as it plays out, narrowing as I spot who everyone's looking at.
Bet you can guess who just walked in.
"Hey babe," cooes Victoria. Our seats aren't far from the interaction, so we can hear her as clear as day. Her skinny heels click on the tiled floor as she struts towards the three boys at the lunch line. How is she even wearing heels in school? My feet would kill me.
To be honest, I think that she thinks she's in her own movie. Her eyes wander around as she walks across the cafeteria, drinking in the attention she knows she's receiving. She seems to be enjoying it too, that is before her sharp gaze catches mine through the cluster of humans. The way she regally positions her body never wavers, however I see her eyes narrow the slightest bit.
I'm glad the dislike is mutual.
Nevertheless, she continues towards the boys, soon placing herself in front of Noah whilst grabbing his collar. In response, he reaches out and grabs her slim figure, slowly pulling her body against his in a quick embrace. I can hear her giggle loudly.
"I'm guessing they're the so called popular couple," I inquire to Taylor in a low rumble. Irritation forcefully pumps through my veins as I continue to stare at the duo, both of which whom have already ruined my day. Who knows? Maybe if I stare harshly enough they'll melt into the floor.
I also feel as if Victoria is putting on a show with all the overdramatic and annoyingly high pitched giggles since I bumped into her boyfriend. A nagging feeling tells me it probably might be her nonverbal way of telling me to back off from her boy toy. Or maybe she's always this extra and I'm just jumping to extreme conclusions. . .? My brain loves to do sometimes.
"You got it," Taylor responds, an unamused expression visible in her features.
As I continue to stare a hole through the couple, a girl walks up and starts talking to Victoria. The only feature I can make out from this far is her hair. It's a long lengthed strawberry blond that flows to just past her waist. The texture of it is clear, even from a distance: completely straight and silky.
Taylor's long fingernails tap the surface of the table, jolting me out of my thoughts. Once we make eye contact, she starts to make conversation. "Besides the whole thing with Victoria and Noah, how were your first few hours in the new school?"
I shrug. "Uneventful. All the lessons my teachers have taught I learned back in Florida. It's been like that for all of my classes so far. It makes the whole switching schools thing a bit easier. What about yours?"
She rolls her warm chocolate brown eyes. "Boring. I slept. Those rumors about you gave everyone a lot to talk about to pass time though. How does it feel being famous?"
"Ironically, annoying. I originally came here wanting to do anything but draw attention to myself, but it's my first day and almost everyone knows my existence."
"Oof. I'm sure everything will settle down eventually though."
I rest my head on my hands, giving her a glum expression. "Hopefully."
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