The Meaning Games

7. But... Why Them?

Curiosity get the better of any gossiper. 

Collins Wazowski packed up her sketchbook and stood up; the sound of the bell ringing through the speakers masked up the horrid noise of her chair scraping against the titled floor. To create a more artistic environment, everything had been painted in the art room, including the sink and the speakers in the four corners. Some people who took art, and didn't like it – like Shay – just complained that the room was too bright. Collins didn't think so. 

After smiling briefly at her art teacher, Mrs Fitzgerald, Collins made her way out of the door and into the secluded corridor. Bethesda high school didn't have many art students as everyone focused around the many sports the school had to offer. Collins didn't mind – each to their own, she told herself. When the rounded the corner of the corridor, the noise level picked up, and more people began filtering in. 

She walked passed all of them to the people rushing to their lockers and found the canteen, which was bustling with people. She scanned the room until she'd found her group of friends, and then briskly walked to them. Breathlessly, she glanced at Shay, Jordan Havana and Avarie. "Hey," she spoke.

"Yo," Shay responded, cramming noodles into her mouth via chopsticks. When Shay ate, it was nothing but gross. She didn't have any table manners and it was disgusting. 

Avarie cleared her throat, as she looked Collins up and down. "Cute dress."

"You think?" Collins asked. She looked down at the pale cream maxi dress. It was swirled, little patterns of blue and red that brought out her eyes. When she was outside, and the sun was shining on her, the red sheen in her hair really stood out. It was her favourite dress. 

Collins slid into the available space, and looked at all her friends. Shay continued to eat. She had to be the only person in the school who knew how to eat with chopsticks – it was just a shame it wasn't gracefully. Jordan was sitting watching Tolstoy, not looking up. "Havana wants to talk to us," she informed Collins. 

Collins glanced at Havana, looking at her biting her nails. She leaned forward and swatted Havana's hand away, giving her a disapproving look. "What do you need to talk to us about?"

"Uh," Havana started lamely, "it's about what I said at Avarie's. About, you know—"

"About Philippa and Trent," Avarie finished for her. Collins noticed that Avarie, too, wasn't looking up. She was filing her nails casually. 

Collins felt her belly rumble, but she pushed the feeling aside. "Well, what about them?"

"Apparently, Trent's last name is Bjerg – it's Danish or something." Jordan said, keeping Collins up to speed. "I don't suppose you've heard of him. He's a transfer. He's quite new, started at the beginning of the year. But Philippa Pearce has been here since freshmen year. She seems nice enough. Won the spelling bee in junior high." 

"Still didn't beat your high score from two years previous, though, did she, Jordan?" Avarie teased. 

Jordan now looked up from her book – for the first time. "Aren't I still the high scorer now?" She replied, blinking innocently but smirking devilishly. Shay snorted beside her. 

"So," Collins reached across and took Jordan's chocolate bar as she turned the page of her book, reading again. "Now that we know who these peoples are, why don't we want them together? What've they done wrong? 

"No idea," Avarie said quickly, shooting Havana a curious glance. "Unless Havana fancies one of them, I'm not sure."

Havana instantly turned red. "No!" she spat. "It's not like that."