Blinded by Perfection

4- Learning the Basics

Chapter 4 | Learning the Basics

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It's no surprise when lunch rolls around and I have no one to sit with. I can't say I mind too much either. I'd rather spend the time alone rereading my favorite book of all time, The Hunger Games (for the 23rd time) than overhear anymore ridiculous gossip about me. On a different note, I think I possibly downloaded the copy of the book illegally. Don't worry, no police have come looking for me yet. Therefore, I'm keeping it until then.

I approach one of the lines of tables near a row of vending machines, lunch in one hand and phone clutched in the other. As soon as fellow students see where I'm headed, everyone in the nearby vicinity disperses. I try to pay them no heed, but I can't help moodily setting my tray down with a loud smack. Eager to distract myself from the rejection I've just received, I turn my attention towards my bosco sticks. Food always makes things better.

I pick one up, but as soon as my fingers touch their crusty surface I know something isn't right about them. They were the least questionable option of the lunch menu, nevertheless they still don't look edible. I wish the school would just serve big bags of Ruffles. It probably would not be the most healthy option, but I would eat and enjoy them for lunch every single day.

Unfortunately I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon, so I have no other option but to give the food a chance. It's either that or let myself starve the entire rest of the evening, which I would rather not put myself through. Only driven by the will to settle my knawing hunger, I slowly raise the peculiar food to my mouth.

I can't say I'm sorrowful when a passerby bumps into my arm, knocking the food out of my hand. It clunks on the round similar to a hard rock.

"I'm so sorry," a feminine voice apologizes. When I curiously look up, I'm met with the gaze of a girl around my age. Her skin tone appears naturally tan and when she leans in a little closer I can spot clusters of faint freckles that dot her cheeks. Her strongest quality is her hair though, which is a bright blond in messy beach curls that compliment her warm brown eyes.

"I feel bad," she continues with a grimace. "I'll buy you another if you want."

"Oh, no you're fine," I assure. "It didn't look too good anyway."

Even though I'm hungry, half of me is glad I didn't eat it. If I would've and it was as hard as it seemed when it dropped, I could've walked out of the lunchroom looking like a hockey player.

"Oh yeah. I guess no one has told you the food here absolutely sucks. The lunch ladies shouldn't be lunch ladies." She dramatically looks around the room to make sure no one is watching before whispering, "Between you and me, I think one of them injects her botox into the food."

At the absurd accusation I give her a weirded out look, to which she shrugs her shoulders to. "Where else will they be able to test how big it will make their lips?"

I can't help but crack a smile. "You really think so?"

She crosses her heart, eyes wide with seriousness. "Live by it. The only thing that are close to safe are the chicken nuggets."

After a moment of consideration I nod in agreement, pushing the remaining food on the plate away from me. My hunger can wait, and besides, I'm suddenly not hungry anymore. "Thanks for the info. I'll make sure not to buy the bosco sticks anymore."

She laughs, giving me a toothy smile before turning around, walking away in the other direction, probably to head towards whatever table her friends are at. I begin to pull out my phone with the electronic copy of The Hunger Games  from my backpocket, figuring this is the end of the conversation. To my surprise however, her sneakers skid to a halt as she stops in her tracks, pausing as if she's considering something before she pivots on her heels and points to the table with a quizzical look.