the moral of the story

chapter seven: ham & cheese

the week speeds by rather quickly, in my opinion. everyone in the halls has been buzzing about the filming of tempest and what they would do if they met any famous people. i wonder what they would do if they found out that i met not one, but two celebrities within a matter of minutes. if i had to guess, it would probably be along the lines of verbally abusing me or something.

anyways, i'm sitting in my history class, which happens to be right before lunch. i can kinda sense the hunger radiating off the kids in my class, or at least the anticipation to leave class. i keep glancing at the clock, each time worse than the last when i realize that literally less than a minute has gone by since i last checked. i'm usually not like this, just excited to get a head start on my chemistry homework, which, yes, i do realize sounds incredibly dorky of me.

when the bell finally does ring, i'm the first out the door. i haven't eaten in the cafeteria since the incident a few weeks ago involving nova parker and her minions. i guess just i'm a little excited to be by myself, as dumb as it sounds.

as i grip the strap of my backpack, i keep walking down the hallway, doing my best not to listen to whatever or whoever my peers chose to gossip about today. i pay no mind to them, actually kinda looking forward to some time by myself. no whispering, no side eyes, no looks of disapproval. it's one of the only parts of my day that i'm truly alone.

soon i'm in the music hallway, relieved at the sight of no one. all the band and chorus and orchestra kids have lunch right now, and most of the time they're in the cafeteria or off campus. and if they are here, they don't care that i'm here. they're more of the nicer kids, but it's not like they go out of their way to do it.

the door i'm two seconds away from opening is like a storage room or something, i have no idea. there are old boxes that are unopened and music sheets still untouched in their wrapping. cassie brooks found it freshman year, back before everything went to shit. we ate lunch here whenever we felt like not dealing with the crowded and noisy lunchroom. i guess i kinda adopted it as my spot last year on the first day after no one would sit with me. cassie jones once walked in on me eating, but never after that. i like it in there. it's a quiet place to eat and get my work done. not to mention no one is ever in there, like ever.

well, i guess until now.

because when i open the door, i find not one, but two famous people, sat across from each other. the blonde one, sat with one leg tucked under the other, has a salad and a stack of papers in front of her. the boy has a sandwich and a can of pepsi and what appears to be the same set of papers below him. both their heads snap up when i enter. that's right. i forgot they're costars, or whatever.

"oh, fuck me." i mutter, already dreading the upcoming interaction.

"oh my gosh," diana beams, hopping up quickly to embrace me, "florence! you're here!"

"yup," i reply, feeling uncomfortable in her arms (i'm not touchy feely, okay), "i'm here?"

she pulls away, her bright blue eyes bearing into my very soul. her teeth are so white they're practically blinding me. she's got on this absolutely absurd outfit, with a piss-yellow shirt and a bright-ass purple skirt that came down to her knees. not to mention the green tights and pink rain boots. who the hell dresses themselves like this?

"what are you doing here? come sit!" diana exclaims, pulling my arm so i stumble down and she sits.

"i, um, i eat lunch here." i mutter pathetically. "sometimes. if i feel like it."

"oh, did we intrude, something? 'cause if we did, sorry." oliver speaks for the first time since this horrible painful interaction started.

i raise my eyebrow at his outfit, which happens to be pretty confusing as well. seriously, i thought these two were supposed to, like, dress nicely or something. he's got on this like tan bucket hat, with a baby blue striped dress shirt. and these like neon green sport shorts that all the boys in middle school would wear. not to mention the cowboy boots. cowboy. boots. what planet is this? because it's not earth. as much as i hate to admit it, he's still hot as fuck.