The layers of Kaid Isherwood (The 1st book in the 'Layers' series)

Chapter 9

Kaid's POX

I needed food. Like, really needed it. I'd barely eaten all day, so I was absolutely starving. I unlocked my closet, opened the door, and peeked inside. It was finally time for a midnight kitchen raid. And yes, I'm aware that it was, indeed, the middle of the night when I woke up again. Clearly, my nap had been more productive than I anticipated. Honestly, though, I had to admit that the music had worked wonders on my sleep. In fact, it was the best sleep I'd had since...well, ever. At this school, I considered a full night of sleep a personal achievement.

I dragged mVself to the fridge, half-expecting it to be as empty as my motivation to do anything other than eat. But no. There, on the middle shelf, was a cake. And not just any cake. A note accompanied it.

Now, I don't know about you, but when you find a random cake in your fridge at midnight with a note attached, your first instinct isn't, "Oh, great! A cake!" It's more like, "What kind of elaborate trap am I falling into this time?"

I read the note aloud, mostly to make sure my sleep-deprived brain hadn't conjured this up.

"Kaid, I don't think you realized that today was your birthday. So I got you some cake. Chocolate chip with caramel and butterscotch. Your favorite, right?"

My first reaction? What? It's not my birthday. My birthday's in a few months. Then, I looked at the cake more closely. Chocolate chip with caramel and butterscotch—yup, that was definitely my favorite flavor combo. I had no idea how the dorm supervisor knew that, but apparently, my mini-fridge had become an open book. That was either impressive or terrifying.

I stood there for a few seconds, pondering my life choices. Had I really forgotten my own birthday? I was so off-track thanks to Lucan and his bizarre distraction methods that I completely spaced it. I blame him for everything. Forgetting my own birthday? Lucan's fault. Getting distracted by random cake? Lucan's fault. If only he knew how much chaos he caused in my life.

But then a light bulb flickered on. Hold on. Wait a minute. This wasn't my birthday. I had just bought the cake today, because why not? It was officially my "cake day." More cake for me, and no one could stop me. At least I wasn't the only one who thought I deserved a treat.

My brain was working overtime. The dorm supervisor probably thought I was going to starve myself to death or something and decided to intervene with a cake. But that wasn't it. Every person on Earth, no matter how deep into their existential crisis they may be, needs food. I mean, that's universally agreed upon, right? It's probably the one thing every country can all agree on without any international conflicts. Cake is the true unifier.

I wasted no time digging in, savoring the decadent, warm slice of cake like it was a gift from the gods themselves. I quickly scribbled a "Thank you" on a piece of paper. I may be a man of few words, but I do have manners. A little gratitude goes a long way, after all.

Then, it was back to business. Not anything particularly demanding, just a few plans for the school. After all, Mr. Student Council President (that's me, obviously) can't let himself fall behind.

One of the pressing issues was school food. Apparently, the students were petitioning for gourmet food. Why? What was wrong with the food we already had? It wasn't just edible; it was downright good! Our school had culinary students who got to cook for us as part of their curriculum. And they were great at it. The idea of gourmet food seemed a bit over the top, if you ask me. But then again, maybe I was just a bit too... comfortable with the cafeteria's burgers.

If I was going to get to the bottom of this gourmet food request, there was only one thing I could do: taste test. Yup, the students wanted gourmet? Fine, I'll be the judge. The highly qualified, unbiased, and totally-not-just-lazy judge. Who knew? The Student Council President could be such a food critic.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting. I already knew when lunch started, so I'd casually stroll in like I was just too lazy to make my own food. The sheer shock on people's faces when I, the "ultra-busy, can't-be-bothered" president, showed up for lunch would be priceless. Let them think I'm lazy—they have no idea. If only they knew how much time I actually spent solving problems, setting plans into motion, and, well, dealing with Lucan's chaos.

I realized that I was probably going to be up all night. Not because of work, but because I'd had a solid nap earlier. But hey, at least I had something to focus on. No point lying in bed staring at the ceiling, right? That's not how I roll.

Another pressing issue I had to address was Lucan's place on the council. He needed to get his act together and pick a role. We already had representatives for his grade, so the only real spot left was Treasurer. Honestly, that position was practically begging for a lazy, disinterested soul to fill it. And since Lucan wasn't interested in anything except for annoying me, he might as well take the job.

Sure, he could be the Treasurer. If he decided to join. Otherwise, I'd just have to juggle both Treasurer and President—a fun combo, really, but one that ate into my precious eating time. Time is food—literally and metaphorically.

I had already set the wheels in motion. I was going to make Lucan an offer he couldn't refuse—join the council or be a massive pain in my side forever. Sure, I could force him, but honestly, that would just make the game boring. This was about the thrill, the strategy, the mental gymnastics. I was having fun playing with him, even though sometimes I really did wish I could just shut him up.

But that's illegal. And, honestly, prison? No thank you.

By the time Lucan woke up, I had finished my work and was back to listening to music. He must've assumed I never even left my bed, because he took out my earbud to see if I was dead.

"Are you dead?" he asked, as if I was some kind of zombie.

"Would I be breathing if I was dead?" I shot back, taking the earbud from him and plopping it back into my ear. Honestly, at this point, if I could sew his mouth shut for just five minutes of peace, I might consider it. But then again, prison... not worth it.

For now, the game continued. And it was getting interesting.