Class Dictator

Dinner

It's the night of the dinner. Kyle and Gwen have picked us up in the van from the garage. As the sun fades into the horizon, all of us hop out of the back and cross the parking lot to the back door to the school cafeteria. The door creaks open. A towering, bald, bearded man opens the steel door to the kitchen.

"Where are your IDs?" His voice is almost a roar. Maybe an exaggerated growl. Kyle lifts up his ID only to have the guard firmly grasp his wrist. After checking the card and aggressively dropping his hand, the guard let's him in and repeats his actions with Derrick. The same with Gwen. The same with Rachel.

I approach him and expect a similar action. He jerks my arm to him and stares at my card. I feel his grip tighten. He just scratches his ear calmly and I feel his nails dig into my skin. He drops my arm and exchange a glance as I walk into the hall. As I turn back, he just looks at Joel's with a peaceful nod.

"What an ass." Rachel huffs. We walk into the kitchen, it seems pretty normal and steamy like any other school's. There's a lunch lady and a petite, blonde student with her hair in a bun working on the meals. The blonde looks up and rushes up.

"Are you the help?" Kyle tries to answer only to be cut off. "You are. Great. Listen, I need four of you waiting tables and the other two help us cook the food." She hurries back to the stove and stirs some soup. Rachel and Kyle take the kitchen since Kyle has to does Carol's food and Rachel is an amazing cook. Joel, Derrick, Gwen, and I all take to the tables for orders.

The cafeteria is packed with suits and dresses. I look in the corners of my eyes for Carol while trying to look casual. Some of the people seem like city officials and community activist. All seem eager to see the role model citizen, even though the vote was corrupted.

"We got her." I hear in my ear. I see Joel walk to the kitchen and hand Rachel a slip of paper. I look in the opposite direction and see Carol. She's staring at me before frantically turning her and resuming a conversation with other guest.

I rush to the window to see Rachel. "Is Kyle putting the stuff in?" I ask.

"Yup. We need to hold it until just before to ceremony. She'll barf in a second after a bite." We snicker between ourselves. Suddenly, the blonde charges at us.

"Stop flirting. You both have a job to do." I turn reach for some finished plates only to have my hand swatted. "Hold on. We need more potatoes from the storage room. Go down the hall and take the last left. Go!" She's nearly yelling.

I march down the hall and see a pair of double doors. They give way with a small shove and I see a enormous, dark room of cardboard boxes on chrome shelves. There's a switch to my left. I pull it, hoping for an array of fluorescent light. All that came was a single swinging light bulb.

The potato bags are in the corner. As I'm only steps away from them, I hear the door open. Someone walks in outside the light's range. The sound of distant chatter and laughs disappear as footsteps become more vivid. My worst nightmare steps into the light.

Tyson holds a metal baseball bat over his shoulder. He lunges at me and grips my throat. My head, neck, and spine are forced into the shelves. All I can see is his silhouette as the bulb looms behind him like a sidekick. "I've been waiting since day one for this, Bailic!"