Page 16 of Wicked Chains
The frog blinks its bulging eyes at me.
I could skip lunch, but my stomach protests immediately at the thought.
The dining hall is packed when I arrive, and it’s not my imagination that the noise level drops noticeably as I enter,then rises again with whispers and snickers. I lift my chin and straighten my shoulders.
"Just ignore them," I mutter to the frog, who seems entirely unconcerned with the social dynamics of bitchy baby witches.
I scan the room quickly, and my eyes catch on a familiar figure seated at the staff table. Lucien, looking impeccable as always in his typical black suit, not a single dark hair out of place. He's surrounded by other faculty members, but he's not engaging with them. Instead, his crimson eyes are fixed directly on me. Or, more accurately, my new companion.
When he notices me looking back, the corner of his mouth twitches upward. I narrow my eyes at him, and turn away, making my way to the food line.
The girl in front of me glances back, does a double-take at the frog, and quickly moves forward, creating more distance between us.
The lunch today is a choice between short rib penne or seared tuna and broccolini. I go for the pasta, it looks too good to resist, and right now I could use some carbs. My stomach growls again, and the server gives me a sympathetic smile as she spoons a generous portion onto my plate, then freezes when she spots the frog.
"It's my familiar," I explain, like that makes it any better.
"Of course," she says politely, though her smile has gone stiff. "Would your... familiar... like anything?"
The frog croaks.
"I think he's good," I say, grabbing a bottle of water with my free hand.
Now comes the fun part: finding somewhere to sit. The dining hall is arranged with long tables, most of them already full of chattering students. I spot one with a few empty seats and head that way, pretending not to notice the stares following me.
I set my tray down and slide onto the bench. The conversation at the table stops immediately. Four students—two guys, two girls—all stare at me, then at the frog sitting beside my plate.
"Is that thing going to be here the whole time?" one of the girls asks, her nose wrinkling in disgust.
"That 'thing' is my familiar, so watch it," I say, though I'm not sure why I'm defending the frog. It's not like I was thrilled about it either.
"It's going to contaminate the food," the other girl says. "Frogs carry salmonella, you know."
"That's reptiles," I correct her. I watched a lot of Discovery channel. "And I don't think magical familiars carry diseases, you know?"
"It's still disgusting," one of the guys says, pushing his plate away. "I've lost my appetite."
One by one, they gather their things and stand up. The last girl gives me a look that could spoil milk before flouncing away to join another table.
"Well," I say to the frog, "more room for us."
The frog blinks at me, then hops closer to my plate. I pull it back.
"Oh no you don't. This is my lunch. I don't even know what frogs eat."
I dig into my pasta, which is amazing, not that I’d expect anything less here at Serpentine Academy, not with the collective net worth of the student body. After a few bites though, I realize I'm still talking to the frog.
"Sorry about them," I tell it, lowering my voice. "They're just stuck-up snobs who think they're better than everyone. Don't take it personally. I don't."
The frog tilts its head slightly, almost like it's listening.
"I'm used to it," I continue between bites. "My mom and I moved around so much, never stayed in one place long enough to make friends." I pause, fork halfway to my mouth. "And now I'm trauma-dumping on a frog."
"Ribbit," says the frog, which is neither helpful nor comforting.
I glance over at the staff table. Lucien is still watching me, his expression unreadable now. When our eyes meet, he raises one dark eyebrow. I look away quickly.
"You know what the worst part is?" I say to the frog. "I'm talking to you because you're literally the only one in this place who hasn't either betrayed me or disappeared."
