Black Moon

2. The category decides the treatment

The light khaki tank top and high-waist jeans didn't look very outdated or eccentric among the students who had now gathered to have their dinner.

The groups were already formed, so the majority of them flocked together. The blue tag attached to the ID cards of the East Wing students grabbed my attention.

I looked at the ID card I was issued, the red tag along with it broadcasted about me being the odd one out. 

Nevertheless, I was hungry. So, I shook off all the unimportant thoughts and grabbed a food tray to get some food. There were a lot of options and most of them didn't look as bad as my second last school where everything looked similar but with different nameplates.

Grabbing some grilled sausages, a box of salad, corn on the cob, and a slice of pizza, with some fresh fruit juice. I looked around the room once again for a place to sit, and that was when I actually saw that the students were staring at me, some even whispering among themselves and laughing.

There were no other red-tag students in sight. 

Did they even eat here?

I quietly slid onto the nearest empty seat I found and the people of the entire table vacated. I never felt so guilty and awkward as I felt at the moment. This was what the red tag had reduced me to, a delinquent without even letting people get to know me. The unspoken fear they had in their eyes, I could feel it. I could feel their hesitant gazes prickling my skin. My fear of being avoided started to pinch me again.

I swallowed to wet my dry throat even when I had not done anything and concentrated on my food.

I cannot do anything if they keep running away. I had to focus on surviving here before getting my chance to get out of this entirely messed up system.

I took the first bite of my grilled sausage but I couldn't feel anything in my mouth. Seems like the tense atmosphere had killed my appetite. I had only finished chewing and was about to take another bite when a pair of pastel rainbow-striped stockings under a black box pleat skirt came into my view.

With my mouth still wide open and my fork halfway in the air, ready to put the half-bitten piece of meat into it, I looked up to find a peacock-hair-colored girl with an excited smile on her face. A food tray in her hands looked so full that it might even be overflowing. With the amount of color in her hair, I couldn't even make it out what might have been her original hair color.

"Is this seat occupied?" She asked cheerfully that it had me thinking for a second if I was in the right place. Or perhaps she was also a fellow red tag?

My eyes landed on the blue tag that was peeking out of her skirt's pocket and back to her. Were they planning to pull some prank on me? Or was this how they picked their target to bully?

I had my doubts and suspicion, yet I shook my head in reply as I resumed eating my food.

She quickly sat down before me letting me have a glance at her tray. It sure was super filled that it was hard to make out where one dish ended and another started.

"That's a lot of food," I commented softly, making sure my tone was more on the surprised side rather than a snide.

"Thank you, I try to eat a lot to maintain my energy for swordsmanship," my eyes might have slightly bulged at the information she provided with a grin. I did a double-take to confirm if I hadn't seen things the first time. And no, she was still wearing a pastel rainbow stocking and had peacock hair. Guess, you really cannot judge a book by its cover.

"I'm Mariana Aubrey Hailey Philips, but you can call me Mariana or Ana," she raised her hand for a shake making me notice what I hadn't noticed before that she had long cream wristlet gloves on.