The Overlooked

Chapter 2: Sunlight

Frin hadn't thought to bring a watch. She realized this as the items began to dwindle in her currently-being-unpacked trunk. Impulsively, she reached backwards in the hopes of meeting the familiar, sturdy rectangle of her pager, but her hand returned empty in compliance with Lanton's rules. 

As if in response to Frin's predicament, Efa slipped a hand into her blazer and drew forth a glinting pocket watch. "We best leave now," she concluded, "Or else all of the potatoes will have disappeared."  

Luckily, there were plenty of potatoes left by the time the girls reached the dining hall. A rather rugged looking man in an apron proudly scooped one onto Frin's plate, as well as a variety of other colourful food items. 

"That'll be all, love?" he asked, the sing-song nature of the Welsh accent apparent in his voice. Frin nodded curtly, distracted by the sheer extravagance of the room. The curved ceiling was implausibly high, painted a blue that had faded with age. Three, robust chandeliers hung from the rafters, creating glinting reflections in the otherwise sunset-coloured windows. 

In contrast to the calm evening outside, there was ne'er a quiet moment in the dining hall. The harsh clinks of cutlery against platters accompanied by the constant chit-chat of hungry children made for quite the auditory overwhelm. 

Said hungry children were gathered around the long tables like insects swarming a speck of food. They were noticeably unorganized, but students of a similar age range seemed to clump together, which made Frin's choice of seating decidedly easier. 

"Thank you," she muttered to the kind faced server before navigating towards her enthusiastic dormmates. She caught a bit of their conversation as she neared.

"Strange, isn't it?" Cora said, swirling her fork through her cottage pie. "Very," Efa agreed, "It's always been there."

Frin silently joined the pair, sliding onto the bench beside Cora. 

"But I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation," Efa continued, shooting Frin an effusive smile. Cora fixed her plate with a conflicted look. "I know," she huffed, "It just doesn't feel right."

Frin fought with her own tongue, biting down onto it as if to physically restrain herself from prodding. It was rather difficult to do so, knowing that she was denying herself information. Information that could potentially have been very exciting. 

"So, Cyfrin," Efa started from across the table, relieving Frin's tongue of her penetrating teeth. "What brings you to Lanton?" 

Frin disguised her moment of thought by chewing a green bean as slowly as possible. "A red Audi Quattro," she said, the image of her father's gleaming car in her mind. 

Efa was silent for a moment; a tight smile remained frozen on her face, as if to contemplate her next move. 

"Let me rephrase that; for what reason do you find yourself attending this here ancient boarding school?" she jested. Frin's mouth curved upwards in amusement. She had always taken immense joy from the game that is conversing.

"Same reason everyone else does," she shrugged, being intentionally vague. 

"Well, it's certainly not for the food," Cora said, scrunching her face up in disgust as she set her fork of cottage-pie back onto the plate. 

Efa rolled her eyes. "Mr. Davies is a great cook, you're just too posh to have rational taste buds," she snarked. "And, seeing as you've complained about it every single term, you'd think you wouldn't choose the cottage-pie by now. The whole of our year knows you hate it."

Cora huffed in defeat. "It always looks so good in the dish."

"That sounds an awful lot like what you said about George Hu-" Efa was quickly silenced by Cora's firm hand.