the voices that heal

Chapter 8... H.S.L.B

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Toast with golden scrambled egg, little coloured cups of petit filous, lucky charms splashed with the freshest of milk, and tall sparkling, chilly glasses of apple juice to wash it all down. I for one have to disagree with this statement. In my opinion, none can compare with the delight that is lunch. What other meal contains the range that lunch so generously showcases? Maybe you are in the mood for a cup of hot, spicy noodles? Or perhaps you are craving a crispy sausage roll or two? You may even find yourself hungry for a tomato and kale wrap! Whatever you desire, lunch can provide.

However, there is a blind spot to this argument. Usually I carry this statement with me, like a medal, shining proudly on my chest, yet I find myself here beginning to doubt everything I had previously believed in. Four words. High School Lunch Break (H.S.L.B for short), the missing factor to the lunch equation.

I glance about the crowded cafeteria in a disoriented manner, stumbling about with a lack of clear direction. Bright colours blur in my vision and I have to blink severely to steady my senses. I never had this problem in my beloved countryside school which was little more than a barnyard. I scan the crowd for a familiar face, when my eyes land on a group of boys, all laughing and hanging languidly about a table. The boy in the centre of the group with a golf cap strikes a chord in my memory as he swishes his dark locks out of his eyes. Then it hits me.

"Trixton?" I mumble, remembering the kind boy who had given me a ride this morning.

"Trixton!" I screech excitedly, my voice carrying its way throughout the room as I clumsily gallop towards his table, a smile wide across my face. The room goes silent, the only sound being the clopping of my comfy white vans against the hard surface of the floor. I slow apprehensively, noticing that something is not quite right. Trixton avoids my gaze and the others look back and forth between us with a strange expression. I try to ignore the strange atmosphere and tentatively approach the table.

"Mind if I si-"

SLAM!

It takes a while for my senses to adjust to this foreign sound, but when my sight recovers, I am staring at the beautiful seductive eyes of another familiar face. Troon Saelim. My number one rival.

"Sorry," Troon sneers, batting her long, daintily curled lashes, "Seat's taken."

I look past her, and spot one more shining, plastic seat. Perfectly free. Perfectly... me!

"Well... mind if I si-"

SLAM!

My heart jumps in my chest at this abrupt noise and I stumble back into the table behind me. One would think I would have adjusted to these loud noises by now. One would be wrong.

Ney drapes himself over my perfect little seat, seemingly basking in my despair.

"Don't you know all good things come in pairs?" Ney states, beaming at me as he high fives his other half.

"Oh yeah?" I laugh dryly, "Such as?"

Troon and Ney throw each other a look incredulously, as if my question is undeserving of being justified with an answer. I look desperately to Trixton for backup.

  "Come on Trixton! Tell them we're... friends!" I whisper. Trixtons face goes a dark shade of red and his feet shuffle uncomfortably under the table.

"Y/N, can we talk outside for a bit?" He says, not looking up.

"Sure we can, Trixton", I giggle, "You can tell me anything." We exit the cafeteria, and a few kids look after us with vague interest. I feel my heartbeat quicken slightly and I have to stop my racing thoughts by reminding myself of Simon. Trixton is just a friend after all... right? We stop outside a set of lockers. Trixton looks down at my feet. When neither of us say anything I decide to chirp up.