Chapter 8 – Lunch Table Wars

Rae

By the time the lunch bell rang, I had lost what little appetite Combat Training had left me.

Mr. Calder had spent the final ten minutes watching me as though I might perform another impossible escape if he stared hard enough. Professor Mansfield had remained in the observation gallery until we left, her attention moving between me and Ravenwood’s four command heirs with an intensity I couldn’t explain.

All I wanted was twenty quiet minutes and enough food to survive the rest of the day.

The cafeteria had other plans.

Nearly every table was crowded by the time Chrissy and I reached the serving line. Voices bounced from the stone walls, trays clattered against wooden tables, and the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the room.

Chrissy collected a bowl of soup, then looked longingly toward the dessert counter.

“They have chocolate cake.”

“You say that like you’ve discovered buried treasure.”

“I may never get another chance.”

“There are at least thirty pieces.”

“Exactly. A crisis.”

She handed me her tray. “Find us somewhere to sit. I’ll be right back.”

Before I could object, she disappeared into the dessert line.

I balanced both trays and searched the room.

The command table caught my attention first.

Grant sat near the center with Julien beside him and Linc across from them. Brax was talking with his hands, apparently reenacting something that required far more physical movement than lunch should involve.

He spotted me before I could look away.

“Rae!”

Several nearby conversations quieted.

Brax pointed toward two open spaces near him. “I saved you seats.”

Apparently, this was Brax’s version of inviting me to lunch.

For half a second, I considered crossing the room.

Then Quinn leaned around Grant and saw me.

Rebecca and Stephanie sat beside her. Whatever Quinn whispered made all three of them smile.

The decision made itself.

“I’m waiting for Chrissy,” I called.

“There’s room for both of you.”

Quinn’s expression suggested there would only be room after they buried me beneath the table.

“I’ll find her.”

Brax opened his mouth to argue, but Julien touched his arm and said something too quietly for me to hear.

Grant watched me turn away.

I pretended not to notice.

A few tables had open spaces, but none of them remained open once I approached. A backpack appeared on one bench. Someone slid sideways to fill another. At the third table, a girl announced she was saving every available seat for friends who were nowhere in sight.

By then, I understood.

I could eat outside.

I had taken two steps toward the doors when a hand settled lightly on my shoulder.

I jumped hard enough to nearly spill both drinks.

“Easy.”

The voice was warm and amused.

I turned.

The guy standing beside me was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in an academy jacket that fit too perfectly to have come from the standard uniform shop. Dark golden-brown hair fell across his forehead in a way that probably required far more effort than it appeared to. His hazel-green eyes held an easy confidence, and a dimple appeared in one cheek when he smiled.

“You look like you’re planning an escape,” he said.

“I’m considering eating outside.”

“In this wind?”

I glanced toward the windows. The trees beyond the glass were bending hard enough to prove his point.

“I’ve survived worse.”

“I believe you.” His gaze moved toward the trays in my hands. “You still need somewhere to put those.”

“I’m waiting for my roommate.”

“Then she’ll need a seat too.”

He took Chrissy’s tray before I could stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“Preventing a soup-related tragedy.”

“I had it.”

“You had two trays and nowhere to sit.”

He nodded toward a table near the windows. Two empty places remained at one end, and no one had covered them with bags or invented absent friends.

“I have space.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re holding my lunch now,” he said.

I looked down.

At some point during the exchange, he had handed me his tray and taken Chrissy’s.

“That was manipulative.”

“Efficient.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“You will.”

He walked toward the table with complete confidence that I would follow.

I should have returned his lunch and left.

Instead, I followed because his tray was heavier than mine and smelled like steak.

He placed Chrissy’s food across from us before sliding onto the bench.

“There. Crisis resolved.”

I set his tray in front of him. “Do you approach every lost person carrying soup?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

“That sounds rehearsed.”

“It was better in my head.”

Despite myself, I almost smiled.

He offered his hand.

“Jesse Vicker.”

The name was familiar, though I couldn’t immediately place it. Vicker belonged to one of the packs attending Ravenwood, and the way several students kept glancing toward him suggested he was important enough to attract attention without trying.

I shook his hand.

“Aurelya Rivers. Rae.”

“I know.”

My fingers slipped from his.

“Of course you do.”

His smile faded slightly. “That sounded less flattering than I intended.”

“I’m Ravenwood’s only human. Everyone knows.”

“I knew your name before I knew why everyone was talking about you.”

“Why?”

“You walked into Combat Training with half the class waiting for you to fail and walked out with Calder looking nervous.”

“He wasn’t nervous.”

“Suspicious, then.”

My stomach tightened.

Jesse noticed.

He reached for his fork. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking what happened.”

“That would make you the first person today.”

“I’d rather ask something useful.”

“Such as?”

“Favorite food.”

I stared at him.

He waited.

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather know that than whatever rumor reaches my table next.”

The answer was so unexpectedly normal that I gave him one.

“Lasagna.”

He nodded approvingly. “Excellent choice.”

“You?”

He cut into his steak. “Steak.”

“You look like someone who would say steak.”

“I’m choosing to interpret that as admiration.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Still choosing it.”

The dimple returned.

Chrissy appeared several minutes later carrying two pieces of chocolate cake and stopped when she saw us.

Her eyes moved from Jesse to me, then to the tray waiting for her.

“Well,” she said carefully. “I found dessert.”

Jesse stood just enough to let her slide onto the bench across from us.

“Jesse Vicker.”

“I know who you are.”

He sat again. “That sounds ominous.”

Chrissy looked at me.

I gave the smallest shake of my head I could manage. I didn’t know enough to explain anything yet.

She placed one piece of cake beside me anyway.

Jesse noticed. “You brought her one?”

“I believe in emergency preparedness.”

“That is apparently selective,” I said.

“It’s chocolate. Nothing is more urgent.”

For several minutes, lunch felt almost ordinary.

Jesse asked Chrissy whether she had memorized the entire academy handbook. She informed him that she had only memorized the sections most likely to protect us from expulsion. He claimed that was less impressive until she recited the rule prohibiting students from importing live poultry into the dormitories.

I was still trying to understand why that rule existed when Rebecca’s voice cut through the conversation.

“Jesse.”

She and Stephanie stood at the end of the table, both holding trays and wearing matching expressions of disbelief.

Jesse looked up. “Rebecca.”

“What are you doing?”

“Eating lunch.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I usually do. This time, I’m enjoying the mystery.”

Stephanie’s gaze moved to me. “Ashley isn’t going to like this.”

Jesse frowned as though the name required effort.

“Ashley?”

Rebecca blinked. “Yes. Your girlfriend.”

“Former girlfriend.”

The words fell casually onto the table.

Stephanie’s mouth opened. “What?”

“We broke up.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Rebecca shifted her tray against her hip. “Why?”

Jesse cut another piece of steak.

“I can’t build a future with someone who couldn’t even earn a place at Ravenwood.”

The cruelty arrived so smoothly that it took me a moment to understand what I had heard.

His tone hadn’t changed. He showed no anger, regret, or lingering affection. He dismissed Ashley with the same ease he had used to choose lunch.

My earlier comfort vanished.

Jesse glanced at me, perhaps noticing the change in my expression.

Before he could say anything, Rebecca’s gaze traveled between us.

Understanding brightened her face.

“Oh.”

I recognized the danger too late.

She shifted her tray.

Cold mashed potatoes struck my shoulder.

Gravy followed, splashing across the front of my training shirt and soaking through the fabric. Vegetables scattered over the table and bounced into my lap.

Chrissy shot to her feet.

“What the hell?”

Rebecca widened her eyes. “It slipped.”

Her hand caught the edge of my tray as she pulled back.

It crashed to the floor.

The sound cracked through the cafeteria.

For one suspended heartbeat, the room went silent.

Then someone laughed.

Another person joined them.

The noise spread from table to table until I could no longer tell where it began. Every face blurred beneath the heat flooding mine.

Gravy clung to my shirt.

Mashed potatoes slid from my shoulder and landed beside my shoe.

Chrissy was shouting at Rebecca. Jesse had risen beside me. Across the room, a bench scraped violently against the floor.

I couldn’t look toward the command table.

I couldn’t look at anyone.

My lungs refused to fill properly.

I shoved away from the bench and ran.