Lunch. I sat down at my usual table. It was empty. I had a tray of food in front of me, but I wasn’t planning on eating it. I wasn’t hungry. Mostly, I just bought food so that Mom didn’t wonder why my lunch money wasn’t being spent. I stared at my tray, my fingers tapping to the rhythm of the music.
Suddenly, a tray slammed down directly in front of me. I jumped, shocked. She sat down. “Hi!” she said brightly, extending her hand over the table, “I’m Paige, we have home room together, do you remember?”
I stared at her hand and then back at her face, wondering if she was crazy or that this was some kind of cruel joke. I felt the knife cutting at my heart again. I didn’t move my hand, and she held hers determinedly extended over the table. She left it there as she commented mildly, “You know, it’s rude to listen to music when people are talking. And I’m not talking about me, you know.You probably give poor Miss Auburn migraines.”
I blinked. She sighed, lowering her arm and muttering to herself, “Slowly then.”