Chapter 5: Lunch

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Naomi still didn't understand what she was doing at lunch with a crazy person like Claire. The hair and clothes had been a tip-off, for sure, but the woman's personality had... issues. Naomi couldn't place their exact names, but she had definite issues. 

For starters, why would she ask a stranger to lunch? 

"So... you're really untalkative." Claire flashed that signature I-don't-care glare in Naomi's direction. 

Naomi stared right back. "I have nothing to say." 

"Figures." Claire grinned to herself, a look that Naomi didn't quite understand. "Looks like you do have your own opinions." 

Her own opinions. What did that mean? Why mention that here and now? Did Naomi seem like the pushover type? Granted, Naomi didn't speak up about much, but she didn't need to. Whether she spoke or not, people would do what they thought best. Might as well not give her opinion if it would only be ignored. 

Claire moved forward in the line. "Say something. Anything. I don't care." 

"Why am I your target?" Naomi didn't think, just spoke. 

It felt like Claire had targeted her for a reason, but Naomi couldn't place it. Years of sheltered living honed her instincts to sound the alarm when danger lurked, but Claire didn't quite set off those alarms. She didn't appear dangerous, just odd. 

Naomi had never met someone like Claire. Someone who presented more questions than answers. Someone who didn't reveal their past or plans through what they said or how they acted. An enigma. 

Claire stepped forward to drop a tray and a plate onto the buffet line. "Target? That seems... harsh." 

"Your haircut is harsh," Naomi muttered dryly. 

Claire laughed aloud, then glanced over her shoulder at Naomi. "You're funnier than I thought you'd be." 

Oh, the telling subtext contained in that particular sentence. Claire had some preconceived notions about Naomi's character, and it showed. When did she make the assumptions? They only met a few hours prior. Did Claire make assumptions about everyone she met? 

Naomi settled her own tray and plate on the buffet line. Better not to ask questions and let Claire reveal any nefarious plans on her own. 

"Those girls earlier. They don't like you?" Claire kept her eyes focused on the food in front of her, but Naomi heard the pure curiosity in her voice. 

"Not a bit," Naomi answered simply. 

Claire nodded slowly, her shoulder-length bob swinging around her face. "Any particular reason? Or is this a normal thing for you?"

"I can't say that it's never happened." Naomi lifted her tray to accept a piece of meat from the line worker. "But it doesn't matter. I don't associate with people like them."

Why did she say that out loud? Claire didn't need to know. In fact, after this lunch she had been harangued into, Naomi had no intention of ever interacting with this woman again. 

As if it approved of her resolve, Naomi's phone trilled in her bag. She paused to dig it out and check the message from her mother. 

Everything on time today?

Naomi sent a brief reply, a simple yes, and shoved the phone back into its pocket. For the most part, everything had been on time. Until Naomi's study schedule had been interrupted by the strange woman at the back of the painting class. 

Claire kept quiet all the way through the buffet line, giving Naomi far too much false hope that their conversation had ended. In fact, Claire didn't say anything until they reached a table and she had set her tray down. 

Then, she studied Naomi intently. "What kind of people don't you associate with?" 

Crap. Naomi should have known that Claire would bite on that like a rabid dog. So far, Claire hadn't reacted to anything like a normal human being. Apparently, she had no sense of personal space or private information. 

Naomi settled on a chair and surveyed the cafeteria, at large. This wasn't a place where serious academics gathered. Rather, it housed mostly those who thought college should be fun. The kids who weren't serious about putting their life on the right track. They would all regret it later. 

"Hey, aren't you going to answer me?" 

Naomi speared a canned vegetable from her plate. "I don't associate with slackers."

"And what's your definition of slackers?" 

Naomi chewed slowly, inwardly cringing at the taste of aluminum can wrapped around overcooked green beans. Claire asked a decent question. How did Naomi define slackers? Where did she draw the line between lazy bums and future entrepreneurs? How did she know? 

"It's... a little..." Not for the first time in her life, Naomi lost the ability to explain. So she took a mental step back and wracked her brain for ideas. "Let's put it this way. When I look around the room, I see caste systems. The jocks, immediate no. I would never hang out with them because they're too focused on chasing girls."

Naomi scanned the room again, finding that only one table really stood out to her. Far in the corner, where an elderly gentleman who still had all his hair sat across from someone much younger. A man who, somehow, drew Naomi's attention far longer than the old professor did. Naomi caught herself before she allowed her mind to wander away. 

"Those two? Teachers. I would politely say hello, because I want there to be a good impression of me later in life, when I return to my alma mater." Naomi shrugged her shoulders. "If they can't do anything for me, I don't give them the time of day." 

"If you don't immediately like a person, you write them off forever? That's petty." Claire tapped a manicured fingernail against the table. "You don't have to have a closed mind, you know. Try giving people a chance every once in a while. They might surprise you. You should choose an underdog to believe in implicitly." 

"It wouldn't do me any good." Naomi poked at the chicken tenders on her plate. Not the most appetizing meal, but it was different than her norm. She kind of liked that. 

Claire shook her head. "Life isn't about give and take. Sometimes, life is about emotions and feelings. You can't accomplish anything if you're relying solely on intellect and strategy. People recognize fakes when they see them." 

"Oh, like you recognized me?" 

"No, no. You're getting it all wrong." Claire rested a hand, palm-up, in the air. "I recognized real, disguised by a mask of fake. I think there's more to you than you let people see. And I'm wondering how I can peel away that shield." 

Peel away the shield? Find the real inside the fake? Naomi dropped her fork onto her plate. "What do you mean?" 

"Let me help you find the real you. You could use a friend, admit it." 

A friend? Naomi didn't do friends. She never had, with only one exception, but... was that a choice she made or something forced upon her? 

"I don't have friends. I have acquaintances."

Claire laughed again. "We can start with that. Besides, you intrigue me and... you kinda owe me for sticking up for you against Maddie earlier." 

Owe? Naomi was familiar with that terminology. A give-and-take that she could understand. A transaction that could, maybe, turn into something with... emotion? Naomi had never thought much about emotion. Nothing had ever sparked her to feel alive. 

Could this be a good idea, after all?

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