Fate Only Knows

Chapter Ten: Sit With Us

--VALENTINA--

The rest of the day at Uncle Mike's went surprisingly well, even when Dad got a little too drunk and started acted a little too friendly towards Liv. Uncle Mike must've warned her about him, because she laughed it off. It was when we got home that everything went downhill.

Dad can't act good for long. He's like a pressure cooker. The longer he keeps his true self pent up, the bigger the explosion of anger. Suffice it to say, by Monday, my body was black and blue.

As I dismount my bike, I wince. The ride here was particularly painful. I might just walk my bike home. I'm not sure I can handle riding over another rock or twig. Actually, I don't even know how I'm going to get through the day. My brain is pretty much dragging my body forward by sheer will. At least my face looks okay. Whenever he loses his temper, he somehow keeps enough presence of mind to avoid hitting me anywhere too obvious.

I make it through the first half of the day without drawing too much attention to myself, but then comes lunch. I begin walking towards the library to study, but my stomach redirects me towards the cafeteria.

I join the food line, grabbing an apple and a bag of chips. I reach the lunch lady at the end, waiting for her to notice my existence. She snorts, looking down at her phone, her long glossy nails clacking against the screen. "Student ID?"

"Oh, I have it right here," I say, looking for the now torn scrap of paper from the registrar, "Okay, it's 4551." She types the code into the machine, noting my choices. She frowns. "Sorry, hun. You don't have any money in your account."

I swear I can hear people laughing at me in line. "Hurry up!" Someone yells. I want to crawl into a hole and die. I swear, he told me he was gonna set aside some lunch money for me. "I'm sorry," I say to the disinterested woman, "I forgot to deposit cash. I'll put these back for now." She shrugs. "Whatever, hun. Just don't hold up the line."

Just as I'm about to put my food down and retreat, a voice comes from behind me.

"Hey, Charlie. How's it going?" He says, winking at the woman.

She bats her eyes and looks a little flustered. "Better now, sweetheart. What can I do you for?"

"Just add these to my tab," he says, motioning to the apple and chips. Before I can protest, she's ringing up the items. My pride is conquered once again by my appetite. I finally turn to look at my savior and almost have a heart attack. It's none other than Raphael. He shoots me a smile and I could melt. I should have known it was him. His cologne or whatever it is puts me in a trance.

"Thank you so much," I murmur as we walk away, trying to keep up with his stead. He's high giving and waving at people as we go like some kind of Moses-politician, parting the seas of sweaty high schoolers.

"Of course," he says, giving me a serious look, "I would never let you– I mean, someone– starve."

"Why, is there a prom king oath or something?" I almost slap my hand over my mouth. I don't know what's gotten into me. It's like when I'm around him a little voice in my head is just screaming "get way too comfortable way too fast".

He responds without pause. "It's more of a royal decree, actually."

Seeing my serious expression, he clarifies his statement. "Relax, I'm joking."

Ah, yes, I'll just "relax" in the presence of this greek god/supermodel wearing perfume sent from heaven who bought me lunch. What a reasonable request.

That was an abnormally nice thing for someone like him to do. Maybe there's more to him than just good looks and charm. I shouldn't stereotype, but I can't trust him. He's too much like the cocky assholes that made my life a living hell at my old school. This could all be a ploy to humiliate me later.

"Valentina?" He asks, and I realize there was probably a question that came before that.

"Sorry, what? It's loud in here," I say. He holds the door open for me and I try not to blush.

"I said, you do owe me one now," he says, walking towards a circular table filled with people.

Here it comes. I'm gonna be indebted to him forever over a stupid apple. He's probably gonna make fun of me in front of all these–

"Have lunch with us."

Oh no. I hate surprises. My heart is beating like a hummingbird, but I'm hardly in the position to say no. I take an open seat across from Raphael. He glares at the kid next to me and the boy suddenly gets up.

"I'm gonna go for seconds," he announces, taking his backpack and plate with him. Weird. Raphael holds his hand up to his eyes, squinting. "Ugh, the sun's right in my eyes," he says, moving to the now empty seat. "Much better now."

Looking around the table, I realize Alex and Daphne are sitting here among other beautiful, popular-looking types, and both are looking at Raphael. Alex's brow is furrowed, but he smiles at me.

"Hey, Valentina, good to see you."

"You too," I say, trying to be polite while immensely distracted by the food in front of me. I take a bite out of the apple and try not to sigh.

"Is that all you're having?" Daphne asks in a concerned tone.

"Yeah, I have a small appetite, I guess." I hate when people comment on my food. I don't need to be reminded that I'm scrawny.

Raphael frowns. "You need to eat. You're tiny."

I barely know the guy and now he's my registered dietician, apparently. Why does he even care? Before I can fire off a cold remark, I remember he bought me the food in the first place.

"Yeah, I guess." Maybe they'll drop this topic of conversation.

Luckily, after a few more comments, everyone gets distracted by other topics. Football, television, school drama. I cringe every time someone is called a "slut" or one of the cheerleaders makes a passive aggressive comment about their outfit. I hope I'm not interesting enough for them to gossip about.

I catch Raphael staring at me a few times but I pretend not to notice. He slides his hand close to mine under the table, as if he wants to grab it. No, Valentina, you're just projecting. I shoo away those fantasies and try to focus on Daphne's rant about mullets. Then the bell rings and I can breathe again.

"I gotta get going, see you guys later," I say, getting up. Raphael looks like he might say something but I'm already running up the stairs. He makes me nervous. I feel giddy when I'm around him and that scares me, because I can't afford to be impulsive. Being the center of attention has never ended well for me.

I need to put my head down and be small.

--

it's only gonna get more awkward from here on out

you've been warned