smother. [h.s.]

4. now we're even

Who Knows Where The Time Goes? - Fairport Convention

"Welcome back to Wintergreen Academy! We are so excited to all be gathered here again for another great spring term. Enjoy yourselves this weekend and rest up because classes will begin as scheduled this following Monday. If you haven't received your schedule, come by the advising office tomorrow morning. We're almost done, sit back down." Headmaster Griffin motions to a first-year attempting to leave announcements early then continues his speech.

"As I was saying." 

He clears his throat, "let me remind you that this is an institution dedicated to excellence.  Remember where you are and what impact you want to leave on others during your time here. Hall officers will continue to do occasional room checks and procedures such as before. So, just make good choices, people." 

With that, he steps back from the podium and clasps his hands together. 

"You may get your dinner!"

I get up from my seat, stretching my arms up in the air with a groan. I straighten my uniform skirt as Sasha stays sitting beside me, waiting with her legs crossed for the crowd of students to dissipate before getting in line for food. Ivan, Noah, Vincent, Alice, and Leo find us within the crowd and stand by our corner of the dining hall. They all look worn out from move-in but still nicer than usual due to the fancy uniforms, which include a white button-down shirt, a dark green or black blazer, and dress pants or knee-length plaid skirt. Dress shoes aren't mandated, but I usually wear a pair of loafers or boots with frilly white socks.

"Same spiel every semester, never thought we'd be hearing it for the last time," Vincent says, tossing around his student key lanyard from hand to hand as we drift towards the end of the line.

"Personally, I'm glad we're nearing the end," Alice says back, scooting closer to Sasha and me at the front of our group. Sasha and I both instinctually wrap our arms around her shoulders, sandwiching her in between us snugly.

"Look at you three, like peas in a pod," Leo smiles cheekily. He brings his hand up and pats the side of my face. I push his hand away with my chin, sticking my tongue out playfully.

"Move forward guys, the line is going," Noah groans, leaning all his weight on Vincent's side. "Fuck, I just want food. The last thing I ate was those nachos from the club.."

I scrunch my nose up in dismay, "Oh god, those gross ones we never order?"

Noah nods weakly, his head falling to Vincent's shoulder as he has no choice but to hold him up. I make brief eye contact with Vincent just as he smiles faintly down at Noah.

"I invited some of the new transfers to meet up with us tonight," Ivan announces to the group as we almost reach the front of the line.

"Any of them attractive?" Sasha smirks back at Ivan, playing with a piece of Alice's hair.

Ivan narrows his eyes, about to open his mouth when I interrupt him.

"Oh, I'm sure we can find someone worthy, right Ivan?"

Alice looks back and forth at Sasha and me, shaking her head with a stressed laugh at our teasing.

"Don't listen to them, we're all very excited to meet your friends," she assures him.

Our conversation ends when Noah pushes past us as we neglect to move up in the line again, picking food quickly from the buffet. We all follow in suit and grab our dinners before heading back to the dining tables.

Dinner goes by swiftly as we talk around the table. I zone out occasionally and find myself staring up at the wooden beams on the high ceiling above the dining area. They cross over each other in an intricate latticework, holding up dozens of large, rustic chandeliers over every long table. As I bite down on a chunk of my salad, I imagine what it would be like to swing from one. Swaying back and forth, suspended in the air until I leap up and off into the open space. Would my body keep going with hopeful momentum? Would the air hold me up with ease, as it does for birds and planes? Or would I fall flat on the ancient wooden floors, meeting my fate by the gum-covered underbellies of the bench seats?