Ell Sadem

THREE: THE CHALLENGE

AN/ oh look, another one that needs reworked! Actually it's not that bad, and technically I have reworked it to an extent but that's a different draft soo, uh... Sorry?

I avoid Evan as much as I possibly can at school, even going as far as joining the drama club and enduring a few awkward situations with some of the teachers. It’s been weeks since then. Weeks of constant fear and looking over my shoulder. Weeks of being followed by the rank-less. Weeks without so much as one encounter with the ten and here I am, getting paired with him for a project that requires a lot of interaction.

It wouldn’t be an overstatement if I were to say I want to die right now.

I fidget awkwardly, somehow not having a full-blown attack, but yet still anxious.

Ritcher smiles politely, his backpack slung over one shoulder and sandy hair ruffled. “So, where do you want to meet up to start?”

“Do you know Pop’s kitchen?” I don’t know what I want him to say, maybe something on the lines of ‘how 'bout we just text instead?’

“Yeah, actually I think I do.”  He grins, the simple expression sending a sudden jolt of annoyance down my spine. “It's a block or two down from the Town Hall, by Maddox Park, right?”

How in the world? “Yes, it is. How did you find it?”
He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was hungry the other day and just wandered into it.”

“Oh.” I glance down at my shoes. Now what am I supposed to say? “So, is four okay? I, um, I have to get to the drama club after class.”

“Sure, sounds good to me.” He grins, eyes seemingly dancing. “I’ve got a few challengers lined up anyway.”

A wave of cold runs down my back, flashes of gore in the back of my head almost making me wince  “Great, see you then.”

“Yeah, see you!” The class bell rings and he walks out, leaving me a scrap of paper.

I don’t know why, but I glance at it, and before I know it I find myself rolling my eyes at the message, 'text me’ followed by his number written on it. In any case, I shove the paper in my pocket, hopefully I can catch Opel and Brook at lunch.

An arm around my shoulders tells me I’ve already run into one of the two, “You know you're the only one who can get away with that right?”

Brook chuckles, a smirk on her face. “Yep, I know, and if anyone else tired I’d rip their arm off and beat them with it.”

“Yeah right!” we separate slipping into the lunch-line. “You couldn't rip the wings off a cooked chicken let alone a human!”

Brook only chuckles not being one to get offended easily.

When I’ve got my food I wait in an out-of-the-way corner for Brook before heading for an empty table to sit at. Ten minutes later the rest of the crew, Opel Carrington, Hailey and Andy Bishop, join us talking over each other in one incoherent racket.

The moment finally comes when Hailey catches their attention with one simple question. “So, the new guy, has anyone talked to him yet?” her bottle-green eyes scan us carefully, expectantly.

Everyone but me shakes their head 'no’; I stare off into the lunch hall shoving a fork-full of food into my mouth as if I haven't heard.  

“What about you, Ella?”

I hum absently trying to avoid the question, “What about me?”

“Have you met the new guy?”

I inwardly wince at the unavoidable question, swallowing hard to force the food down as my throat tightens. “There's a new guy?” ignorant may just be the way to go.