Mortal

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FOURThe noise in the cafeteria softens as I enter the room, more eyes than I can count turning to drink me in. A boy nudges his friend, and the girl looks me up and down before whispering something behind her hand.

Embarrassment floods me, but I tighten my grip on my backpack straps, stand up straight, and walk with what hopefully looks like confidence.

The cafeteria is paneled in dark wood, small circular tables placed sporadically around the room, and a serving line at the far end. A quick sweep of the faces reveals Brynn isn’t anywhere to be found.

My stomach plummets. Did she leave the school? Get kicked out before The Selection even started?

I shake the thought away. Most likely she has a different lunch hour.

Trying to ignore the gazes on me, I walk across the room, scouting a potential seat. Gregory isn’t anywhere to be found either, which means I’m out of luck when it comes to company.

The serving line is full of the kind of good food not usually seen at a school cafeteria. No toxic-green gelatin or salisbury steak that looks like cardboard in gravy here. After fixing a fresh salad with shrimp, I beeline for an empty table, my head down.

“There you are,” a voice says the second my butt hits the seat.

Gregory lopes over, a gaggle of students behind him. Half of them weren’t in class earlier, so it begs the question: just how big is this guy’s fan base?

“Here I am.” Nerves make me suck down half a bottle of water.

Gregory relaxes into the seat next to me, and his friends go to grab lunch.

“Are you not eating?” I ask.

“I am.” He props his elbow on the table, puts his chin in it, and studies me. This close up, gold specks shine in his irises. “How were your other classes?”

“Good. I mean, as good as Trigonometry and World Government can be.” I poke at my salad, my stomach too twisted up to eat.

“Tonight is The Selection.” He drops his hand, and the serious look that comes over his face does nothing for my anxiety.

“I know.” I lean closer. “What is that, exactly? Is it some kind of test? And what happens if we don’t pass it?”

“Here you go, Gregory.” A girl slides a tray laden with food in front of him.

“Thanks.” Gregory fist bumps her. “Who watched the game last night?”

The conversation turns to soccer, with nothing for me to add. It was all books, puzzles, and theater in my house. My dad was almost a walking stereotype of a professor, with his tweed vests, glasses he was always pushing up his nose, and love of anything that was no longer mainstream.

I take a bite of salad, just because I know I’ll be hungry later if I don’t. Out of the corner of my eye, the kids at the next table watch me. The second I turn to look fully at them, though, their heads whip away.

I blink. Honestly, am I that much to stare at? My long, dark, wavy hair isn’t anything special, and at best I’m decent-enough in the face, except I would trade the snub nose if I could.

One of Gregory’s friends–a girl with crazy red hair–takes the seat next to me, her eyes round as full moons. “What was it like having him as your dad?”

“Uh… I…” My tongue twists into knots. What a weird, random question.

Him? The way she asked it, it’s like she knew my dad. Or knew of him.

“Phoebe,” someone calls from another table, and then the girl is gone.

Gregory has vacated the seat next to me, opting for one at the next table. His exit stings like a paper cut, slight in the grand scheme of things but more damaging than you would think. If he doesn’t want to sit with me, why did he invite me to have lunch with him?

Heavy footsteps sound on the wood floor, and then Heather drops into the chair across from me. She seems to like making as much noise as possible wherever she goes. Maybe it’s her greeting card.

Or her warning call.

I’m not here to make enemies, though, so I take a deep breath and try this again. “Hi, Heather.”

She looks down her nose at me. “You really cleaned Goodwill out, didn’t you?”

The few others left at the table–who haven’t followed Gregory–laugh in appreciation. The faded sweatshirt was my dad’s. Yeah, it doesn’t fit, but trailing my fingers over its hem comforts me, and… and…

I swallow against an aching throat. What is this girl trying to get out of me? Would it make her happy to see me cry or get angry?

Well, I won’t give her the satisfaction either way. Turning my head, I look at the fireplace mantel across the room. There’s heat pumping through all the school’s vents, but whoever runs Hawthorn must like the ambience the fires provide.

Gregory returns to the seat next to me. Well, kind of. He sits on the table, his feet in the chair. When he looks down at me, my pulse picks up. Better yet, he’s blocking my view of Heather.

“Hey.” She touches his shoulder. “Are we still studying together this afternoon?”

“Of course. I’ll bring the snacks.”

I try to hide my shock. The two of them are friends?

“Miss me?” He turns around and waggles his eyebrows.

“I’ve been entertaining myself.” It’s not meant to be unkind, but has the fact that he’s barely spent a minute total with me gone over his head?

He flips a spoon over and over, tossing it in the air before catching it again. “There’s a big bonfire tonight. You should come.”

“Where?” The island we’re on looks so tiny. Then again, yesterday’s fog still hasn’t let up, so for all I know the school grounds could be hiding several fields.

“Close to here.” He sets the spoon on the table behind him, rests his forearms on his knees, and leans closer. Just like that, it becomes hard to breathe. “It’ll be a lot of fun. It always is.”

It takes some time to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “Sure. That sounds nice… fun. Nice and fun.”

He chuckles. “You’re cute.”

 Over his shoulder, Heather glowers before turning away. I clutch the sleeves on my dad’s sweatshirt. Is Gregory taken?

No. It would be obvious, right? He’s barely looked Heather’s way. Maybe she likes him, though.

That would certainly cause problems, and I don’t need any more of those. Maybe I should turn the invite down.

Except… I can’t. If I’m going to stay at Hawthorn, I need to run with the pack. It’s either that or be trampled by it.

“See you after The Selection.” He stands.

“About that…”

But he’s gone, and along with him any hope of getting more info about The Selection. His friends all leave too, Heather included, filtering out of the cafeteria in twos and threes. Feeling eyes on my back, I turn in my chair.

Just like before, once people see me looking, they swiftly turn away.

Abandoning my lunch, I grab my backpack and hightail it out of the cafeteria. There’s a window seat in the hall that my dorm is on that looks perfect for hiding out in, and it’s another forty-five minutes before my next class.

Even though I want to go to the bonfire and I know it’s a smart move, I can’t help but feel I’m about to make a terrible misstep. Everyone is certainly watching me like they’re waiting for it to happen.

And what’s with Gregory? He acts like he likes me one minute and then like I don’t exist the next. The whole thing makes my head spin.

Drawing a shaky inhale, I make my way down the dark, moody hallway. This whole place is a long string of questions. Here’s hoping I get some answers before I start to go insane.