I ate the meal. Correction, I inhaled the meal and promised myself I would start running so that I wouldn’t gain ten pounds my first day here.
“So.” I looked at my cell and back at the rest of the table. “Who eats here next lunch hour?”
Everyone looked to Nixon. He sucked in his lip ring and put his hands behind his head, leaning back on the legs of his chair. We were all in uniforms, but he had taken off his jacket, so I could see the outline of his dark tattoos underneath his crisp white button up. The shirt stretched over his muscles in such a way that I couldn’t stop staring. I mean, the other guys were attractive, but Nixon was a step above the rest. He was chaotic perfection.
“Nobody.”
“Huh?” I was still staring at his bulky arms.
“Eats here,” Nixon said pointedly. “It’s just us. Just this lunch hour.”
“But…” Confused I looked around. “Then why am I here?”
“We like to slum it sometimes.” Nixon grinned smugly. “Now run off before you’re late.”
I didn’t move.
Chase put his head in his hands and groaned. “I hate it when Mom and Dad fight.”
Phoenix burst out laughing. I had to admit to finding it quite funny myself. Nixon, however, was not amused.
He pushed his chair back and stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him.
“Is he always like that?”
“Actually…” Tex leaned forward. “No. I think you bring out the worst in him.”
“Yay me,” I said sarcastically.
“You’re the first outsider who has ever eaten in here,” Monroe said to my right. “He hands out key cards to control the cliques. To make sure fights don’t break out between the kids from different countries at war and stuff. I just assumed he put you in one of the normal lunches.”
“What do you mean?”
Chase shrugged. “He’s not just in charge of the key cards, he’s student body president. He makes sure that access is limited for each student. Take for example, a kid from North Korea going to school here. You think they’re going to get along with a South Korean? Or better yet, some ritzy American kid?”
“Um… no?”
Everyone laughed.
Phoenix shook his head. “That’s a hell no, New Girl.”
Chase crossed his arms. My mouth went dry at the sight. His dark hair wasn’t as unruly as Nixon’s, but he still had that dangerous look about him. “What if some sheik’s kid goes to school here but he’s from a different sect than some other kid? What if those same kids eat in the same lunch room that serves pork?”
“Oh.” I huffed. “I guess that makes sense, but then doesn’t that segregate everyone?”
Monroe laughed. “Boots, it’s college. We’re segregated regardless, whether it be by major or class. This is just the way things are here. It keeps everyone safe. Keeps the fights down.”
The table fell silent again.
I looked up at Chase. “But if he hates me so much why would he want me here?”
A clock chimed in the restaurant causing everyone to push away from the table and stand.
My question remained unanswered as we all shuffled to the door.
I made my way out down the hall, but Chase caught up to me and whispered in my ear as we walked. “Protection.”
“What?”
“See ya!” He waved and walked down the hall, leaving me to wonder what in the heck I needed to be protected from? Or whom?
Chapter Seven
“So tired…” I mumbled, swiping my card across the elevator door. Okay, so I knew it was lazy for me to use my one pass on the first day of school. But my brain was fried. I was chosen to speak during my last three classes. My final class had been a KI elective which was basically like PE. I had no idea colleges forced exercise!
Lucky for me, I had it all wrong.
They don’t do P.E. at Elite.
No, they did defensive arts. Seriously. That’s what they called it. As in, not dark arts from Harry Potter, but defensive arts. It could have easily been the same thing with how my body felt.
For the past hour, I swear, my soul left my body and I was victim to some guy named Spike brutally attacking me.
At least now I knew how to gouge someone’s eyes out, which I knew was going to come in handy if I had to sit and eat with Nixon every day.
I chewed my lip. The elevator doors opened. I stepped in and leaned against the wall. Why would he be so mean to me and then make sure I was always around him?
The elevator stopped. Great. I hit my floor again. It still didn’t budge and now a shrieking noise began coming from above me.
I hated small spaces. Panic set in. I was just about to use the little red phone to call the fire department, or the SWAT, or something when the elevator moved again.
“Thank God,” I mumbled as the doors opened to my floor.
I shuffled to my door and stopped in front of it.
On my door was a picture of my face on a cow’s body.
Should have known that was going to happen sooner or later.
Clever. Bet they nearly killed off all their brain cells to come up with that one. I decided to join in the fun and drew a heart around my head with a little bubble that said MOO.
Take that.
I pushed open the door and immediately threw off my jacket, followed by my shirt, and then I addressed my skirt. I heard chuckling.
My hands froze on my skirt’s zipper. I looked up.
Nixon lay across my bed. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. Continue.”
I flipped him off.
He laughed harder.
I quickly pulled on the tank top I’d worn to bed and thrown across the chair. “What do you want?”
“Not sex, but thanks for the offer.”
“I was not…” I took three deep breaths. Arguing got me nowhere with Satan. “Why are you here?”
“Waiting for my sister. What else?”
I exhaled in relief.
“What, you disappointed I didn’t want an afternoon screw?”
“Not at all.” I sat far far away on Monroe’s bed. “Besides if you needed one, all you have to do is knock on any door on this floor. Just be sure to use protection. I know how you are about germs.”
“Only yours,” he sang.
I threw a pillow in his direction hoping to smack him in the face. He caught it mid air and scowled. “Can you at least wait for her outside?”
“Nope.”
“Why?” I ground my teeth together. At the rate I was going I would have nothing left to grind.
“Because, I like your bed. It’s comfortable.”
“It has my germs and I swear to you I drooled all over my pillow last night.”
He shrugged. “I only hate germs on people, not objects.”
Nixon looked at his watch then put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
“Why?”
“Why what, Farm Girl?”
“Why don’t you like people touching you? Is that your rule or an Elite thing?”
“You ask a lot of questions for someone so stupid.”
That stung, but I was too tired to let it sink too far into my consciousness. “It is the only way to find out how to survive in this place.”
“You’ll survive, if you follow the rules. I thought I told you that.” He propped up on his elbow. “The system works, Trace. I know you think I’m an a**hole, but if I was nice, they would eat you alive. Wouldn’t you rather I do the tasting?” He smirked.
Damn, I was literally itching to punch him in the jaw.
“Why can’t everyone just be nice and get along?”
He groaned into his hands and stood. “Maybe I will wait outside.”
“You do that.”
He walked to the door and then stopped. “Has anyone made fun of you today?”
“Is this a trick question?” I asked, jumping off Monroe’s bed. “You make fun of me all the time!”
“Other than me.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Tell me the truth.”
“N-no,” I stuttered. “No one made fun of me today.”
“I guess my point is made.”
“The hell it is.” I bent down and picked up another pillow to throw at his face. “You think you have that much power? To protect me from them? You think you’re that much better? That what you do is better than what typical college kids could do to me?”
His eyebrows rose. “Care to make a wager?”
“Fine!” I poked him in the chest.
Nixon closed his eyes as if in pain. “Please don’t touch me.”
I backed off but only because he said please.
“I’ll stop bothering you… but when I win — when you can’t take it anymore — when you are living in hell every single day, I want to hear it from your lips. Not Monroe’s, not Chase’s. I want you to approach me. I want you to tell me…”
“Tell you what?” I whispered.
“That you need me.”
“When hell freezes over!” I snapped.
“Bring a parka, because life’s a bitch and you just bought a first class ticket, sweetheart.”
I was still in a crappy mood when Monroe finally arrived. True to his word, Nixon sat outside, at the door waiting for her. Why he didn’t text her or call her I have no idea.
I couldn’t really hear what they were saying. But Monroe was yelling, and Nixon was yelling, and I was pretty sure one of them was going to throw a punch.
So I was really surprised when Monroe bounced into the room with a wide smile on her face. “Guess what!”
“You killed your brother?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not that lucky, no.” With a huff she sat on her bed. “The Elect are throwing a party tonight and I get to bring you!”
Excuse me while I pull out my pom-poms. “Swell.”
“Boots, don’t go raining on my parade. Besides, Tex will be there and…”
I raised an eyebrow.
She flushed. “Fine. I like Tex. Happy?”
“Does Satan know?”
“He sees all,” she grumbled.
“Is that why you guys were fighting?”
“What should I wear?” Monroe clapped her hands. “I don’t want to look too easy, but I still want to look hot, you know? Hmm, maybe a red dress? You think? With Loubuitan heels?”
“Uh… Louib—who?” I laughed. “You’re beautiful in pajamas. Just wear something you feel confident in.” I didn’t miss that she changed the subject, but I decided maybe it was best if I didn’t know all of the happenings of their family.
Monroe began pulling clothes from her closet and tossing them onto the floor. Finally, she chose a purple dress with a plunging front and back. Only it was covered with some sheer material so technically it could not be defined as slutty.
I did say technically.
“Your turn.”
“Um, I have a lot of homework and—”
“—Nope, you’re going. Nixon said you could.”
“Oh well, if the great and powerful OZ said I could go….”