Texting Prince Charming

Chapter 3 (pt. 2)

The first four classes dragged on. Finally, at noon, Trina wheeled me into the cafeteria.

The Patterson High School cafeteria was unlike most others. Well maybe not, but everything was segregated. And not by race or creed, but by sport or activity.

Each team kept to their usual table, and if you were dating someone from the team or a cheerleader for said team than you sat there as well. I cheered for football and basketball, so I was welcomed at both.

Trina only cheered for basketball and therefore sat with those players. When I dated Connor, the wide receiver for the football team, I ate with his group. On occasion, or when we'd have a falling out, which was often, I'd jump alliances and have lunch with my brother and company.

But now I was nothing and wasn't dating anyone; my stomach lurched with the realization I had no idea where to go.

My best friend decided for me and meandered us through the crowd, even shouting, "get out of the way" a few times to part the sea of teenagers in our path. She huffed once we arrived at the destination of the varsity basketball players' table.

Six months had passed since I had been at this very spot and a sucker-punch of nostalgia hit me in the chest. My eyes skipped around the table landing on my brother's designated vacant seat. I stiffened at the sight as my heart ached at the subtle reminder of the loss.

I was caught in a daze and hadn't even realized I'd zoned out until Sebastian moved his big head in my line of sight. "Hey. You okay?"

Luckily, no one else noticed as the rest were either too busy eating or talking amongst themselves.

"Yeah." Hopefully, that one word would suffice. With my newfound will, I wheeled myself around the table and scooted my brother's empty chair away. All eyes at the table landed on me. A few were shocked. A few were a little miffed. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do?

My silent question was answered once Sebastian steered me to the spot at the table where Kyle sat for almost three years, right beside him. He raised his Gatorade bottle to toast. "Welcome back, Shelby!" Everyone in attendance followed his lead, and the soft mutterings of my name reverberated.

A blush crept on my cheeks, but it wasn't out of embarrassment. It was from feeling centered for the first time in months. Like I was home again.

Lucas Kreitler, the point guard for the team, ungracefully plopped down, and the ketchup on his plate flew across the table from the force.

"Man, I've told you about impinging on my personal space," Sebastian seethed and grabbed a stack of napkins from the middle of the table to wipe his arm covered in the thick red muck.

"There's a million-dollar word. What are we up to now, guys?" I glanced around the table only to find myself greeted by everyone's vague expressions.

Sebastian chuckled. I had made up this game to specifically call him out on his pretentious word usage no one, other than he and I, understood, just to show off how intelligent he was. Like it wasn't already obvious.

Owen dropped his fork and stared at the ceiling to contemplate my question. "Umm, I don't know. We haven't been keeping track since—you know."

I knew very well what he meant. Since the accident. Instead of letting Owen's comment affect me, I ignored it. "Well by my old calculations, he should at least be up to a trillion by now." I paused and turned to Sebastian. "So, Bass, you know what that means."

Sebastian twisted in his seat and smiled that fabulous all-toothy smile of his. "Yes, yes...become a hillbilly and say words like ain't and nonthin' just for shits and giggles."