“Just in case we forget our place, I’m guessing.” My nose wrinkled as some of my awe over this beautiful shiny room wore off. Cara said there was no segregation on this level, but by giving me a red tray they were ensuring everyone here knew we were the scholarship students. Which was confirmed when Cara said hesitantly, “It’s more so that the serving staff don’t accidentally feed us the wrong stuff.”
Right. I was silent as we followed a chatting pair of students. They looked much younger than me but were so filled with confidence, smiles and laughter, talking about parties and shopping for bags, it was like these girls were aliens. I had never felt so out of place in my life. For the past eight months I had lived in a grief bubble, barely even noticing the outside world, basically just forcing myself to breathe, take one step after another, eat my meals, and try not to lose my mind with grief. As the veil of my grief was lifting, I was realizing I wasn’t the same person anymore. The death of my parents had changed me. Fundamentally. And now I had to figure out who the new Emma was.
As I followed the path of the buffet, I realized what Cara meant about red food. There were tags above each hot and cold dish stating what it was, and those tags were colored. I tried not to look at the dishes I wasn’t allowed. I would focus on the fact that no matter how bad the food situation at home got, I was able to eat something here.
Surprisingly enough, the red section was not bad at all. I tended to prefer fruit, salad, and vegetables, if I had the choice, so I ended up with white-sauced pasta, a bread roll, a cup of very fresh-looking fruit salad, and a small-crumbed piece of chicken for a shot of protein. Orange juice and bottled water finished off my selection. I stepped to the side and waited for Cara. My stomach growled as I stared at my tray, desperate to shovel food in my mouth but determined to not act like a crazy person raised in a jungle.
“God damn, they have ribs in the purple,” Cara complained as we walked away. “I made the kitchen staff promise me the ribs would be red one day, but so far it has not happened.”
I didn’t say anything. This was one of the better meals I’d had in a long time, and since I’d skipped over everything I wasn’t allowed, I had no idea what I was missing out on.
Even in here all of the benches were padded and so comfortable. My hands visibly shook as I reached for my cutlery, the hunger pangs almost too bad to handle. Somehow I forced myself to take a long drink of water first, before using my fork and knife to cut off small sections of a surprisingly moist chicken breast, all the while listening to Cara ramble on about everything that came to mind.
I was really starting to like having a bubbly, outgoing friend. She never let awkward silences happen, and expected very little input from me. When I was halfway through the pasta, my stomach started to rebel and I knew I needed to stop. It went against all my instincts to leave food behind now, especially with the Finnegans still missing and my food situation at home standing solidly at zero. But if I ate any more, I would be sick.
Just as I dropped my fork, Ben hopped into the seat on my left. “Hey there,” he said, flashing that wide grin of his. “Figured since we’re new BFFs, we need to hang out during lunch.”
I returned his smile, glancing above his head to find two more girls hovering there, both small and blond. That was where the similarities ended. One had piercing blue eyes that were shrewd and assessing. Ben introduced her as Samantha. The other had thick glasses, deep brown eyes, and a dreamy quality in her gaze. She was Lace, resident hippy apparently.
“Sammy and Lace are old friends of mine. We grew up together in the same asshole neighborhood,” he said. He then waved toward a short guy who had just appeared. The new guy had longish brown hair, a serious brow, and glasses almost as thick as Lace’s. “This is Derek. He runs the geek squad here, has no problem with me being gay, has never been to a party, and somehow manages to be one of the coolest people in this school.”
Derek’s surprisingly full lips tipped up as he dropped down on the other side of Lace, both of them across from me and Cara. “It’s nice to meet you, Emma,” he said. “Ben told us all about you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I said as I shook his hand. He then proceeded to pull out a massive textbook, opening it next to his tray.
“Sorry to be rude, but I have a test in a few days and I like to read ahead.”
Samantha snorted. “Don’t let him fool you. He enjoys reading textbooks, and he’s usually a year or two ahead of all class assigned reading.” She then picked up her salad bowl. It was the only thing on her tray, which was a dark purple. She could have had her choice from all of that delicious food and had only taken a salad.
I immediately distrusted her.
“Emma, tell us about yourself. Did you just move to Astoria?” Lace leaned across the table toward me as she asked the question. A question which was innocent, but which brought forth so many of the dark memories I was trying to keep contained inside.
Swallowing hard, I attempted to think of something to say that would assuage their curiosity without revealing the last tragic eight months of my life.
“Yes, we just moved here. My guardians travel a lot for their job, but we’re here in Astoria for the rest of my senior year. They promised me we wouldn’t move again before I went to college.”
“Are they in the army?” Cara asked, her tray now pushed to the side as she too was finished.
I let out a bit of a chuckle, giving a noncommittal shrug. “No, they do some consulting, and computer stuff.”
I had learned it was better to give answers and be vague than to refuse to answer at all. If you acted like it was a big deal or a secret, it would rouse their interest. With Michael and Sara’s crazy theories and lifestyle, it was just easier to pretend they were consultants. No one actually knew what a consultant did. It was one of those jobs that wasn’t really a job and explained away lots of business ventures.
Ben changed the subject then; his pale skin lit up as he said, “Are we all going to Trey’s on Friday night? The first party back of the school year is always the most epic.” He turned toward me, reaching across to grab my hand. “You have to come, Emma. The elite parties are insane. They usually have them at these crazy locations, in the middle of nowhere.”
I shifted in my seat, subtly pulling my hand free from his grasp. “I’m not really much of a party person.” Something occurred to me then, so I added, “And how do you get invited to the elite parties anyway?”
Samantha answered, a slight softening on her face. It made her look much more approachable. “Our family is the rung below the elite. We’re rich – well, compared to Ben’s family we are well-off. They are billionaires – so we all get invited to the social gatherings.”
“And we can bring you along!” Ben added, still looking far too excited. He was a partier, that was immediately obvious. I’d put my money down on him being the one still dancing at 5 A.M when everyone else was asleep or passed out.
They were all looking at me, Cara included, so I finally said, “I’ll think about it. I have to ask my guardians.”
I couldn’t imagine Sara or Michael ever saying no to something like that, but it was rude to just assume it would be cool. They’d be home this afternoon. They had to be. I couldn’t consider any other options.
Cara shrieked as she bounced in her seat. “I’m so excited. They don’t allow commoners into Daelight Crescent – outside of the few who score rentals in there – so you’ll have to get ready at my place. I might be able to borrow my mom’s car to drive us too.”
Ben jumped in then. “If you can’t get the car, I’ll pick you up.”
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