Page 19 of Just One Bite
Social gatherings aren’t a source of energy for me like they are for my sisters. Luckily, the women at the dance studio told me it was free to use in the mornings. I went this morning, but I’m plotting another spot in my day where I can sneak away and dance. That’s the only thing getting me through the mountain of stress that being the target of the whole campus has piled on me. From what I can tell, as long as we stay in populated areas, we’re safe for now. At least safe enough to find a way to defend ourselves.
I should have believed my father’s warnings, but I’m not ready to admit I was wrong yet. I’ll admit it once I find a solution to keeping my sisters safe.
“It’s not a big deal. I don’t blame you. He had his hands all over you. You should have seen the way he was looking at you,” Emma concludes, then takes a bite of her quiche. “Did it at least … end well?”
“She’s right. It’s not weird. I have dreams about Jared all the time.” Too much information, but I appreciate Eva’s offer in the conversation. Maybe I do love my sisters. “I never get to the end of them though.”
“It was …”
Let me show you how good I can make you feel, Olivia.
“It was fine.”
Emma and Eva snicker about it to themselves. Despite being the oldest and the youngest, they’ve always got on really well. They flock together in most cases. I’m used to it by now. Being the odd one out, the first call during a crisis but the last when something exciting happens and having to hear it in passing. It used to bother me when I was young, but now I enjoy the break from the collective chaos. I have my own things, and they have theirs.
The dining hall resides in the center of the castle. I doubted the student body would gather in the mornings, but that seems to be the case. The entire room is a sea of house colors. There’s no division among us, but I do see patterns. The girls in my hall are gathered in a collective purple blob across the room, and like myself, the majority of us in Noxx House seem to choose the darker color palette. Emma mentions her housemates are really chatty, typically eat together, and that she might ditch Eva and me to eat with them sometimes. I don’t mind. I was shocked when she sat with us this morning. In school, she never ate with us because she ran with her own crowd.
Evangeline, sporting Stelliea pink with a large ribbon in her hair, shrieks when her drink dribbles on her skirt, so Emma helps her wipe the spill with her sweater sleeve while talking about dying the ends of her hair blue to match the Luxxia colors.
As I eat, I study the framed posters on the walls with letters to the student body signed in redfrom the desk of the council.Many of them are rules, some of them are proposed plans for campus expansion and upkeep, and some are events.
A group of students moves through the hall, the room settles at their presence, and a few people snap pictures. I count the heads, and when Zant breaks away from Parker’s table to eat with them, it confirms my suspicion.
The council take their seats at their own table, and Zant’s smile fades into a more calm, calculated smirk. There doesn’t appear to be a single leader. It’s ten students taking turns talking, and some have brought notepads and pens.
“Good morning!” A girl dressed in Luxxia blue sits in front of us. “I’d love to interview you girls for the university paper.”
“Why?” I say.
Emma elbows me. “That sounds great! What do we need to do?”
“Just answer a few questions. The whole school has been abuzz.” She’s scrolling through her phone as a reference.
“What is that?”
“Oh, this is a chat forum. Mostly gossip. It’s not connected to the university paper, but we use it to find fresh content people are interested in. You’re all over it.”
She holds up her phone and scrolls through rows of comments.
Who are they?
Dibs.
They smell so fucking good.
Why is Parker Owens there?
That bitch better stay away from him.
There’s a picture of Parker and me at orientation. He’s looking down at me with subdued, contemplative eyes while I talk to the women in the dance department booth.
“Oh no,” I say.
“Why do people care about us?” Eva asks.
“Have you smelled you?” she says.
My sisters and I share a collective beat of contemplation and marinate in the fact there is a place the entire student body has been discussing our arrival. There was no school paper in Groveshire. No online chat forums. Our school’s graduating class had twenty-five people. This is new territory.
