Sweet Like Revenge

33 - The Cafeteria Coup

Friday marked four days of self-governing at Irvine Academy.

The hive was queenless. The hierarchy was unbalanced. The social list was without a headline.

And yet, it wasn't the feeling of liberation that permeated the air. Rather, everyone seemed to be on edge. A cloud of uncertainty rained down on us while we waited with bated breath.

Because, despite her absence, despite the shifting allegiances within my friend group and beyond, we all knew that Sienna's reign over Irvine wasn't truly over. Her fall from grace wasn't permanent. Not yet, at least.

Sienna would be back. Until then, everything was just on pause.

All things considered, my Friday morning classes were relatively peaceful. Oddly so. I had math with Chontelle and art with Kat. Nate was still avoiding us, still managing to keep to himself despite the invasive looks thrown at him as he walked up and down the school halls. Part of me wanted to approach him and start the process of getting him on side. But another part of me — Ana's conscience, probably — urged me to exercise patience and compassion. Two things that Elle was not great at.

"Kirsty wants us at the table," Chontelle told me as soon as I'd entered the cafeteria for lunch.

I hesitated before nodding. "I'll just grab something to eat—"

"No," the fiery brunette cut me off. "She wants us now."

To say that I was disappointed was an understatement; the cafeteria was serving lasagna, my absolute favorite. But Chontelle seemed desperate for me to do as she asked, and I so couldn't be bothered fighting her on it. Even during math that morning, Chontelle had been strangely withdrawn and moody. Moodier than she usually was, I mean.

So I threw my arms in the air and turned to follow her to our table.

And there we sat. Kirsty, Chontelle, Kat, and me. Rather silently, might I add, since the latter three of us had no idea what we were waiting for.

"Four salads, three rolls and fries to share," a shaky voice announced. "One vanilla shake, two chocolate, one water."

Five younger students appeared, buzzing around our table as they juggled lunch trays and drinks in their arms. It took me a second of studying their faces before I placed their familiarity. But, no. They couldn't be...

"Thanks, babies," Kirsty said, her voice irritatingly high and sickeningly sweet. She motioned to Kat and I. "Chocolate for them, vanilla for me," she pointed to Chontelle, "and the water's for her."

"No problem," one of the girls beamed, placing a shake in front of me.

Yes, it was them.

Our five waitresses were the juniors from the day before. Friends (or ex friends) of Marleigh, the queen-bee wannabe that Kirsty had forced out of the closet. Now, they were serving us. Literally.

Or, rather, they were serving Kirsty.

"Here," our ringleader offered, handing over a wad of cash. "Keep the change. Get yourselves something sweet."

"Thank you!" the girls sang in perfect synchronization. A flock of baby birds. A chorus of minions.

"Isn't this nice?" Kirsty asked the rest of us. When we stared back at her blankly, she motioned to our trays. "What are you waiting for? Dig in! My little treat."

I tried to catch Kat or Chontelle's eyes to exchange an eye roll or a raised eyebrow or something to express my disbelief at the ridiculousness that surrounded us. But my two friends avoided my gaze completely, doing as Kirsty directed instead.