(Un)Fortunate

Chapter 19

Prom signs drape the cafeteria walls, like curtains. Prom is in a month, and everyone is getting dates. One poor girl opened her locker and a bunch of paper fluttered out with the words 'PROM?' on there. After saying yes, she had to clean the whole thing up. There was so many pieces, it took her all of lunch period and she had to stay after to get the remaining pieces.

Jessica has multiple dates to the prom. She keeps telling me about all the guys and how she just can't say no. She is having them number their blazers. She will also keep a paper in her wristlet that has their names and stuff. I think that is snobby and absolutely ridiculous.

I, however, have not gotten asked by anyone yet. I don't even think anyone is going to ask me. Although, Caleb is going with Brooke. He asked her with a huge teddy bear that was bigger than him.

We are not supposed to say anything to the press about Brooke and Caleb. I don't know why, we just aren't. They have been a couple for two months now and we still aren't allowed to say anything. It's strange. I listen to what Caleb's manager and my parents say though, I don't want more paparazzi camped outside our house.

If you are mistakenly thinking I am one of those girls that doesn't go to dances with guys or doesn't go on dates, then I must say I enjoy doing these things. I like it when a guy asks to do something with her, it makes her feel, well, special. You catch my drift?

Anyways, back to the loud, obnoxious cafeteria. I sit at a table with Jen and Logan, who eat my lunch. Cam eats a different lunch, but with his girlfriend. His girlfriend, Mia, is really shy. He brings her out of her shell with his outgoing personality. I could go on and on, but that would just bore you.

I pick at the tomato in my salad, pushing it from side to side.

"What's wrong?" Logan asks, flipping his brown hair.

"Oh, nothing. I am just remembering something that I read online about comas."

"What is it?" Jen asks, shoving a fork full of tilapia in her mouth.

"I don't even know if it's true."

"C'mon just tell us, it can't be that bad," Logan says, leaning forward against the table.

"Fine," I say, pausing. " I read on this website that the longer a person is in a coma, the lesser chance they have of ever even waking up. And if they do wake up, the side effects will be at a greater risk."

Jen stares at me, her brown eyes blinking every so often. Logan opens his mouth, about to say something, but closes it again.

"Please say something," I say, looking down at my food.

"Ellie, do you really believe any ole website that happens to come first in a Google search?" Jen says, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no. But this one looked really official."

"What was it's name?" Logan asks this time.

"Yahoo Answers," I sigh.

"Nope, it has to be true," Jen says, winking.

"But what if it really is right? What if since he is in a coma for a week he won't wake up?" I say, putting the lid on my salad.

"I think what they mean by that is the people who are in a coma for months and years, you don't have anything to worry about," Logan says, standing up to throw his trash away.

"People can be in comas for that long?" I say, and feel my face turn red.

"Wait, I'm sorry. That is for people who are very seriously injured, like problems on the inside of their body. Help me out here Jen?"

"Okay, listen. Caleb is not going to be in a coma for years or even months. He will probably wake up this weekend," She shrugs.

I nod and we all get up to throw away our trash.

At the table, I get out my phone- a Galaxy s4. I go onto my texting and see I have no new messages. I sigh and wait to be dismissed to our next hour. Jen and Logan start playing an intense game of Rock Paper Scissors, and I giggle as Logan uses laser.

This popular guy named Brad walks by our table and looks at me and smiles. I feel my cheeks heat up, and look down at my phone again. His friends push him towards the door, and his smile fades as he turns away.

"Logan, did you see that?" Jen asks, holding his arm.

"No, the only thing I saw was your defeat."

"Oh shut up," Jen says, smacking his arm playfully.

"Your just mad that you lost," Logan says, sticking his tongue out at her.

Jen gives him an evil look, and the bell rings to be dismissed from lunch.

We all get up from the lunch table, and a petite girl comes over to us.

"Uh, Logan?" She says.

"Mhhhmm, that's me," He says, grabbing his book bag.

"I work for the school newspaper, and we are looking for someone to interview. As captain of the varsity soccer team, we wanted to ask you," She says, her eyes bugging out of her head.

"Oh, okay. Uh, when do you want to do it?"

"How about after school, I have the library all to myself. Wanna meet there?"

"Sure, see ya then," He shrugs.

"Thank you so much!" She says, and scurries away.

"That was weird," Jen says, gawking.

"Are you seriously going to go?" I ask, hiding my smile in my sleeve.

"I don't know? Should I?" Logan says.

"Look, she went through all the trouble of working up the nerve to ask, and you aren't even going to show up?" Jen enlightens us.

"She's right Logan," I say, brushing a strand of hair from my eyes.

"Dang it, I hate when you are right! Curse you Jennifer," He says.

"Don't be hatin on this," She says, gesturing to herself.

I watch as they continue to bicker. The thing I read online still plays through my mind, like a recording. Uhg, what if the website is right? I wish it wasn't, but somewhere deep down inside, I know it is.

The bell rings its sharp two rings and I am on my way to my locker. In the hall, I get stopped by Jessica again.

"Oh, heyyyyy," She says in her high pitched voice.

"Hi, Jessica," I say, glancing away from her.

"Sooooo, how are you doing?" She says, drawing me into a hug. I try not to inhale the intoxicating perfume smell, but slip and get a whiff.

I shutter as she lets go.

"Oh, fine. You know the usual, same from yesterday and the day before," I sigh.

"That's good, at least your not worser," She says, shrugging.

Did she just say worser? Are you kidding me? She has the grammar of a two year old. I swear, she gets dumber with every word out of her pretty little mouth.

For a second, I consider slapping her. Instead, I pool my anger and walk off, without a goodbye. She would not have noticed anyway, because she had already turned around to talk to her friends.

I seriously should be homeschooled.