“Point us in their direction. I want to officially meet them.”
Anavi lifted her finger, which trembled only a little. “Next to the doors. They linger. I’m always late for my first period after lunch . . . I wait them out.”
“Not today. Today they’ll be leaving early.” I stood and waved for Maddy to join me. “They have their methods of attack. I have mine.”
CHAPTER 6
Maddy stayed by my side as we navigated the cafeteria with its walls of good old patriotic red and blue.
I had discovered that the school mascot was the Generals. Dad really would love that. It might even be why my parents had picked this school.
There were a few obvious groups in the cafeteria, but school cliques were never as clear-cut as they were on TV or in the movies. Jocks, preps, nerds—there was too much overlap to pretend it was that simple these days. But I did recognize some discrete factions within this crowd, ones that had been at most of my previous schools.
The Nerdfighter contingent would have been identifiable by the fact that half of the table was reading (or more likely re-reading) one of their favorite author’s books—alternately laughing or weeping, depending how far in they were—even if a few weren’t also wearing T-shirts featuring him and his brother, along with tiny video cameras for making their next vlogs beside their trays.
And then there was the basketball team, always the tallest and cockiest of the sporty types, though here it seemed refreshingly like the girls’ team was part of the same echelon, sharing the table in an assortment of practice T-shirts, a welcome change from the usual.
Maybe the relative equality was the influence of the debate clubbers at the next table over. Or they might just be combative arguers with green political concerns; it was hard to say based on their heated discussions and environmentally friendly water bottles and lunch containers.
“What’s your plan?” Maddy asked. “You’re not going to confront the creeps face-to-face, are you? In front of everyone?”
We passed by a table housing a handful of drama club members, spottable by large gestures and supreme enunciation that gave way to a song more rehearsed than impromptu, complete with harmonizing. Maddy shivered in disgust at the singing, the crimson streak in her hair hiding her grimace from the table that was in full-blown a capella Broadway mode. Her expression reminded me of Lucy’s when she disapproved of something.
“Not a musical fan?” I asked, instead of answering Maddy’s question about what I had in mind.
“I cringe because that hurts me,” Maddy said. “My ears. My taste. I can’t.”
“Got it,” I said. “You’ll have to make me a playlist. I never seem to find good music on my own.”
“Sure,” Maddy agreed, smiling.
SmallvilleGuy was the source of most of my music, not that I was about to tell Maddy that. Not yet. It would be nice to have a friend to talk to in person, and especially about the weirdness of my relationship with him, somewhere between friends and maybe-more-than-friends. I thought we were, anyway. Sometimes. Like last night when he’d said how much he wanted to tell me.
But, then again, defining where exactly on that spectrum we fell didn’t matter that much, since we were stuck there, in whatever uncertain spot it was. Because I literally didn’t know who he was and he’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to change his mind and reveal all anytime soon.
Maddy’s pleased surprise at being consulted on music faded fast, and she started to plod along. She slowed with every step.
I saw why.
The Warheads were dead ahead, sitting around a table near the doors, as Anavi had said they would be. At every school I’d attended, holosets and portable game consoles—and sometimes even phones—were prohibited during school hours. Not here. At least not for these particular students.
They were all playing, focused in on scenes impenetrable from outside their own holoset views, but glowing right in front of their eyes. Other than darting pupils, and the occasional low-spoken command, they remained frighteningly motionless.
Something told me they were all in the same gaming scene, and not having harmless bad unicorn fun either.
“Where does James sit at lunch?” I asked.
“Why would I know that?” Maddy returned.
When I gave her a pointed look, complete with raised eyebrows, Maddy sighed and said, “At my sister’s table.”