Chapter 5

   Sitting in the cafeteria at a lunch table with a bunch of popular kids was not how I expected to spend my lunch break. Especially seeing as how I just got here. The table I'm currently sitting at has about six people, including me, at it. To my left is Grid, and to my right is Greg.

   "So how did you enjoy your first day of being in a new school?" says Grid as she munches her apple. I take a sip of water as I contemplate my answer.

   "Well..." I start.

  I've noticed that some of the other kids have stopped talking and have turned to look at me.

Where I come from people consider eavesdropping a crime against humanity. As well as stepping on feet and not knowing what McDonald's is.

I try my best to ignore them though and say to Grid, "I very much enjoyed it. I like how everyone here is so nice. I think I'll enjoy my time here very much."

  The others at the table smile and turn back to their own conversations. A hand crashes down on my head, and my hair is ruffled again. I swat at it but Greg only laughs at me.

  "How is it that you're this cute?" he asks.

   "I'm not cute!" I say as I struggle to get his hand off my head. I succeed, but then he wraps it 'round my shoulders and pulls me into a side hug. He nuzzles the top of my head with his chin. God, teens and hormones. Or just Greg has not outgrown his phase of having a security blanket around.

   "Yes, you are! You're cute as a button!" says Grid. I pout, which she only smiles at.

  "There are so many other people who are cuter than me," I say.

   I give up on trying to get Greg off me. He seems to be the touchy jock type anyhow. I take a bite of my bread. I usually don't eat a lot at lunch or breakfast. Dinner is my meal that I am the most active.

   "Like who?" asks Greg.

  He takes a bite out of a slice of pizza while still managing to keep the other arm around my body. He's so gangly. And muscular. Definitely muscular than me.

  "Um..." I say as I look around the table for somebody to pick. Nobody really catches my attention, mostly because I don't know most of their names. I turn back to Greg and Grid in defeat.

   "Okay...I'm cute," I say in defeat.

They both grin and I blush. I look down at my knees. I feel so betrayed by life.

   "Anyhow," says Grid, "since you're new here, you wanna take a tour of Handerville this weekend Cace?" she asks me.

   "Cace?" I ask as I raise an eyebrow.

   Grid smiles with a nod and replies, "Yep, Cace. That's my cute little nickname for my cute little friend."

  I blush and say a quiet thanks. Greg laughs at my flustered state. I poke him in the ribs.

   "Ouch! Hey, no fair!" he says with a pout. I grin and say,

  "You let me enter your personal space Greg!" I say with a laugh. He laughs with me, along with Grid.

   The bell rings signaling the end of lunch. We all stand up and head off to our classes.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

  The first day of school along with the second was pretty much the same. Introductions, conversations, introductions, and more conversations. The third and fourth were almost the same. Friday, the fifth day, was the best so far. I drove to school, and most of the other high school kids recognized me. It seems like I'm the only new kid in the entire high school. Special me.

   As I walk to my locker, I see Grid standing at her locker getting ready for the day. I grin. As I near, I poke her on her left shoulder but jump to her right side. She looks to the left but doesn't see anybody. I laugh and she turns to give me a smile.

  "Hello, there my cute little button! How are you doing this morning?" she asks pleasantly.

  After a week of friendly nickname calling, I'd all but gotten used to being called cute by Grid. I was still a little apprehensive about Greg calling me "cutie" and occasionally "cutie pie", but I was slowly getting used to it. I'd say he's cute too, but then that's weird.

  "Oh, I'm good, yourself?" I reply as I open my locker to get my books for the day.

   "I'm fine actually," she replies.

   Today she's wearing a white button-down shirt with a matching black tie. Also with matching black pants and short heels. I guess we share the same taste in clothing. I really like formal clothes and vests. I love vests. I guess because I have my wings wrapped around my torso most of the day, the feeling of something wrapped tightly around me is almost natural to me. I'm wearing a black button-down shirt with khakis. And a flat cap. But no vest today.  Flat caps just go with my physique.

    "Wait," she says, catching my attention, "did you study for the econ quiz?" she asks with wide eyes.

  I see in her left hand she's holding a planner. It's open to a page with today's date, and red circle around today.

   "Oh my lord no," I say dramatically. I totally forgot about the quiz. "I used to have a planner to write this stuff down! Did you study?" I ask back.

   Grid eyes widen. "No, I'm afraid I didn't." She covers her mouth with a closed fist. "But Mrs. Clark doesn't nag you on quizzes, and we didn't cover a lot this week. I'm pretty sure we'll be fine," she says encouragingly.

   "Well, if you say so," I say a little unsurely. Grades weren't exactly a priority in my life right now, but nonetheless, they were important. I'm pretty sure it's not a bad idea to be a good and hardworking student.

   "I guess we'll find out soon won't we?" I say as I slam my locker shut. Grid does the same and we walk off to class. I hope she's right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   "We, are some lucky students," I say as I munch on my apple. We're at lunch break again and Grid, Greg, and I are talking about the econ quiz we had this morning.

   "It's a good thing I wasn't sleeping during class. Otherwise, I would have flunked it," says Grid, taking a bite of a chicken tender.

  "Yeah, totally," I say.

Greg hasn't wrapped me in a hug yet, but that's probably because I positioned myself with Grid in between us. He can hug Grid for today.

   "Does that mean you think you did alright?" asks Greg.

   "Maybe," I reply in unison with Grid. We look at each other and grin, before laughing.

   "Enough to bet?" asks Greg with a sly smile. I see Grid roll her eyes.

   "Greg, not another one of your gambles," she says tiredly.

   "Come, on it'll be fun! Right, Cace?" he says.   

   "I don't gamble," I reply neutrally.

Got the money but not the guts.

Greg pouts.

   "You're no fun," he says glumly.

   "Speaking of fun, you're still open to go out this weekend for the tour of Handerville right?" says Grid to me. I nod.  

   "Yep, definitely," I say enthusiastically. "I have to buy some stuff anyhow, and I was thinking of looking for a job for after school."

   "Ooh! Mrs. Miller the sweet shop owner was looking for a helper to, well, help, but we can swing by," says Grid in equal enthusiasm.

   "Aww, lucky," complains Greg, "I want to hang out with my cute little Cace too."

   "What about me? I'm not special enough?" says Grid in mock anger.

   "You're not cute. You're hot."

I take a second to realize I'm the one who just said that. Greg and Grid look at me with wide eyes.

  "Not that I'm hitting on you," I say hurriedly, "just, you know, saying." I look down at my hands in embarrassment.

  "Awww, you're so precious," says Grid. She reaches over and pinches my cheek. I squeak and slap her hand away. She and Greg laugh.

   "Greg, why can't you come?" I ask as I try to move the conversation forward away from the previous one.

  "I have basketball practice," he replies a little glumly, "my coach wants to start off early this year so we can get as much practice in."

   "Well, maybe next time," I say hopefully.

Greg smiles in appreciation. The bell rings signaling the end of the break. We stand up to head to the doors of the cafeteria. I feel a great deal of weight land on my shoulders, and from the laugh that comes with it, I know that Greg has again, thrown his arm around me in a hug. I smile inwardly. Touchy jock.

   The last class for the day was art, which was fun, and passed by uneventfully. I walk to my locker and grab some of my textbooks. Pulling out my Phys and econ textbook, I slam my locker shut and head off in the direction of the parking lot. Exiting the school, I'm hit with a chilly, dry wind. The oak trees that are planted around the school have already turned brown and the leaves have begun to fall to the earth. I walk up to my car and pull out my keys. Opening the car, I scramble onto my seat. The car dad got me is great, I mean white is a nice color, and bricks are safe and all, but the height from the ground to the seat of the car is tall for somebody short like me, so getting in and out is a hectic operation.

  After driving home, I get ready for dinner. I was thinking of eating some ratatouille today. I have this knack for vegetables. I pull open the fridge and grab tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, potatoes, and eggplants. I think dad said something about how he had a tiny garden planted for me in the greenhouse. After setting the vegetables on the counter, I head off toward the greenhouse. The greenhouse is connected to the kitchen, so I don't have to walk through a maze of white walls to get to it. Opening the door to it, I'm hit with the earthy smell of a garden. Also the sharp, serene smell of lavender. Lavender is something I absolutely love. Ever since mum died, I've always had lavender with me in some form. Mum used to have a perfume that was made solely from lavender oil. I feel when I have it with me, I have her with me.

  As I crouch to grab some lavender, I look out at the ocean through the window. The lighthouse is still resolute and continues to be a beacon for sailors.  The ones that are alive, that is. I can see dark clouds brewing into a storm on the horizon. The ocean is so pretty. Even on grey days.

I quickly finish picking some more lavender, as well as rosemary and basil to add to the ratatouille. Walking back to the kitchen I pull out my phone. Connecting it to the red speaker that happens to be the only spot of color in my white kitchen, I play some Chopin. His music is very complicated. The melody is always shifting.

  Washing the veggies, I pull out a cutting board and knife. Ratatouille is really easy to make. All you have to do is throw the veggies into a pot and slowly boil it. And it's healthy.

  After cutting the veggies, I throw it into a pot along with the basil and rosemary. I almost forget the garlic, but crush it and throw it in. Setting the heat on low, I clean up the kitchen. Turning the music off, I grab the lavender and put it in a tiny glass vase, and set it in the center of the long ebony black dining table.

    Walking out of the conjoined dining room and kitchen I grab my book, my water bottle, and a blanket. I set the water and blanket by the back door that leads to the porch, and the beach a little off, and head back to the kitchen with my book. Of human bondage, by W. Somerset Maugham. The book itself isn't bad, but from my point of view, it's terribly bland. I like more poetic works. But also a hint of darkness. The best example is the poem, In the Desert, by Stephen Crane, from his book The Black Riders and Other Lines. It has a sense of dystopia that I can't exactly describe, but it makes me feel so much more alive when I read it, and my mind feels clearer when I read Stephen Crane in general.

  The ratatouille is done in about an hour. I'm pretty sure the way I make it isn't the best or the right way, but I like it. Scooping some into a bowl, I grab a spoon and head to the back door where my water bottle and blanket are waiting. Somehow managing to pick those up, I open the door and walk to the table that is situated in the center of the porch. Sitting down at one of the chairs, I eat my meal in general silence. The only sound the wind in the grass, and waves on the beach, far below.