Chapter 2 #2
Newcomers are rare, and they receive a frosty reception.
Cassie was the only new student to start here since Caleb arrived freshman year.
And she didn’t coast in on the winning combination of ancestry and affluence, the way he did.
Cassie’s family is wealthy but doesn’t have any roots in Landry.
Money buys some favor—literally—but even after living here for six months she’s mostly treated like an outsider.
Unlike me, Cassie tries to see the best in people. That is the solitary, or at least the main, reason we’re friends. Her unassuming, warm personality has also defrosted a few of our less pretentious peers, expanding our lunch table of two slowly over the first half of senior year.
I’m not retreating back into old habits of eating solo today.
I’m checking Caleb’s claim that he’s the top student in our year.
The library is empty when I enter it, same as every other time I’ve been in here during lunchtime. Mr. Gibbs, the elderly librarian, looks up and gives me a warm smile as I enter, before promptly turning back to his crossword puzzle.
I walk across the beige carpet toward the computer terminals, inhaling the comforting smell of paper and ink.
Unlike the ancient contraption I use at home, the brand-new computer whirs to life as soon as I move the mouse. It only takes a few seconds for the school’s homepage to load. Once I sign into my account my grades appear instantaneously.
Next to class ranking is the number two.
My fingers form a fist as I scroll down through my past semester’s grades. All A’s and one A- in Biology. He must have gotten all A’s.
I exhale deeply, attempting to let out my anger with the air. I turn off the computer and head back into the hallway. This time, I walk in the direction of the cafeteria.
The noise is startling after the quiet library and empty hallway.
A long line of students is still waiting to buy lunch.
I have to weave through it to get to my usual table.
In a twist on the typical stereotype, Landry High’s cafeteria food is universally considered to be quite good.
Not that I would know. Bringing a sandwich from home is cheaper.
I finally reach my usual lunch table and take a seat next to Cassie.
“Hey, what happened to you?” she asks.
“Had to stop at the library,” I explain as I pull my lunch out of my backpack.
“You’re not already working on that English project, are you?”
I’m pretty sure Cassie thinks I’m an insane overachiever, which isn’t entirely inaccurate. But my work ethic at school has a lot more to do with the fact that by the time I finish the chores, homework is the last thing I feel like doing.
“Definitely not,” I respond, before biting into my peanut butter and banana sandwich.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Caleb Winters? Did you guys date?”
A glob of peanut butter gets caught in my throat. That’s about the last question I expected Cassie to ever ask me. “ Date? ”
“Yeah. People were…talking. Earlier.” Cassie’s expression turns apologetic, like listening to gossip is a betrayal.
Nothing involving me ordinarily interests anyone besides Cassie, but the entire table’s attention is suddenly focused my way. I scoff loudly, eager to dispel any confusion on this topic. “We’ve never dated. Would never date.”
“Everyone knows Caleb and Lennon don’t get along,” Shannon Jones says.
I’m grateful Shannon is agreeing with me, but I also have to suppress a sigh. That’s all I’m known for in Landry: my last name and my contentious interactions with the star pitcher.
Eliza Gray laughs from her spot across from me. “Remember the spelling bee freshman year?”
Tina Smith leans forward to speak past Cassie. “Oh my God, I forgot about the spelling bee. I had culinary with them sophomore year. Caleb swapped out your sugar for salt, right Lennon?”
“Right.” I take another bite of my sandwich, growing increasingly annoyed with the topic of conversation. More of the girls mention encounters between me and Caleb, most of them moments I hadn’t even realized others noticed.
“Don’t forget that debate they had in History last year!” Shannon adds.
“I still say Johnson shouldn’t have been impeached.” A new voice joins our conversation from directly behind me.
A familiar one.
A male one.
The only thing worse than being caught in a conversation about Caleb Winters? Having Caleb Winters overhear it. Knowing he overheard it.
An immediate, total silence falls over the table.
“Eavesdropping, Winters?” I keep my voice as nonchalant as I can manage, glad Caleb can’t see my face.
I have no idea what he’s doing over here. The baseball team rarely strays from its coveted corner table, lording over the rest of the school from its spot at the top of the high school social hierarchy.
“Doubt I missed hearing anything good if you were involved in the discussion, Matthews.”
I glance over one shoulder at Caleb, ignoring the wide eyes of my tablemates. “Did you need something, or did you just come over here to annoy me?”
“What makes you think I came over here to talk to you?” Caleb grins. It’s dimpled. Devilish. I pretend it doesn’t affect me, but there’s an annoying flutter in my stomach. “Maybe I came over here to talk to someone else.”
“Don’t get my hopes up.”
Caleb smiles again, but this time it’s more genuine. It’s wry, not polished or practiced. “We never decided on our project details. Hell, I’m not even sure we settled on a book. And then you ran as soon as the bell rang.”
“I did not run . The bell signals the end of class. And I had to get to the math wing. I’ll do the outline, okay?”
“Without me?”
“I’ll put your name on it, Winters.”
“Do you really want to have this conversation? Again?”
I heave out a long sigh that I fill with as much exasperation as I can muster. Which is a sizable amount. “Why do you have to be so freaking difficult?” I ask Caleb as I stand up and grab the rest of my sandwich.
“ I’m the difficult one?”
I scoff before striding over toward a mostly empty table about twenty feet away. Only a few other students, who look to be freshman, are huddled at the opposite end. I drop down on one side, and Caleb takes the seat across from me.
“So…how often do you spend lunch gossiping about me?”
I should have known he wouldn’t let that drop so easily. “First and last time,” I inform him.
He smirks. “Yeah, right.”
I sigh. “It can’t be news people gossip about you.”
“No. It’s not.”
There’s a dissatisfied edge lurking beneath the words. One I’m surprised to hear and too uncomfortable to acknowledge.
“We can do Frankenstein ,” I blurt.
Ending this conversation as soon as possible suddenly feels like a top priority. Something about sitting here, with him, all alone is creeping under my skin and taking hold.
Caleb studies me with a strange, speculative look for a minute. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” Caleb gives his head a small shake. “Okay, so we’ve settled on a book.”
“Miraculous,” I mutter dryly.
“So, you have any favorite literary devices?” Caleb asks.
“Please tell me that’s not one of your pickup lines,” I can’t help but quip.
Caleb gives me another one of his rare, genuine grins. I take a bite of sandwich. “I’ve got better game than that, Matthews.”
“I don’t see why you’d need to. Perk of being the hottest guy in school, and all that.” The words slip out past the piece of banana I’ve just swallowed. Unthinkingly. And I regret them as soon as they leave my mouth.
“You think I’m the hottest guy in school?” Caleb asks, a wicked, speculative gleam appearing in his eyes.
Shit . “That wasn’t a personal opinion,” I hurry to say. “I just meant, that’s what people say, is all.” I’m flustered, and I’m pretty sure Caleb can tell. Mostly because I do think he’s the hottest guy in school, and that’s something I never wanted him to know.
Uncharacteristically, he doesn’t press the topic. “Foreshadowing?”
I breathe a subtle sigh of relief. “I’d hope so, considering the subject.”
“Two to go, then.”
“Imagery?” I offer.
“Isn’t that a given in every book?” Caleb contends.
“Did you notice how I didn’t criticize your suggestion?” I retort.
“Fine. Personification?”
“Done,” I state, eager to be finished with this discussion. “Do you trust me to write the outline now?”
“Yes,” Caleb replies simply.
“Good.” I ball up the plastic baggie I transported my sandwich in, expecting that to be the end of our conversation. But Caleb doesn’t move, so I feel obligated to stay seated too.
We stare at each other in silence. It’s a stark contrast to the din of voices surrounding us.
“How was your break?” Caleb finally asks.
I don’t answer at first, too taken aback by his unexpected question. We don’t exchange pleasantries. We bicker and argue.
I feel like it’s a test, and so I don’t bother with the glossy answer I offered to Cassie and the one other person who bothered to ask. “It…wasn’t great,” I admit. Maybe honesty will fracture this bizarre moment. “Yours?”
If Caleb’s surprised by my answer, he doesn’t show it. “Not great, either.”
His answer isn’t what I expect. I spent most of break arguing with Gramps, who is still insisting he could handle the farm if I went off to college in the fall, despite the fact he struggles to walk to the barn some days.
I know that’s not how Caleb spent his. Maybe he feels obligated to mirror my melancholy answer, but I don’t see why he would.
I’m well aware of how charmed his life is. Everyone is aware.
“Great,” I finally say, because something needs to be said. I can’t sit in more silence.
A smile tugs at the corners of Caleb’s mouth in response to my obvious sarcasm.
“Well…I’m going to go.”
I stand. Caleb says nothing, eventually giving me a small nod. His sudden muteness is unnerving. I hesitate for a second, then turn to walk back toward my table. I should have just told him what I narrated to Cassie in homeroom earlier. The last thing I want from Caleb is pity.
“Matthews!” I spin back around.
Caleb is standing now. “You’ve got some peanut butter on your nose,” he informs me.
Heat flushes my body. I swipe at the center of my face repeatedly while glaring at him. “This whole time? And you’re just telling me now?”
Caleb shrugs, giving me a lazy smirk. “You called me hot, so I decided to be nice and let you know.”
“I did not call you hot.” I snarl the words before stalking the remaining distance to my table.
“How did it go?” Cassie asks me tentatively as I plop back down beside her.
“Great,” I growl.
“That’s…good,” she replies, her voice suggesting she doesn’t believe me.
I sigh and fish around my lunchbox for a granola bar. “Do I have any food on my face?” I ask.
Cassie studies my face. “Uh…yeah. There’s some peanut butter right there .” She points to my nose.
I grab a napkin and scrub it over my whole face. “Gone?”
Cassie nods.
I toss the napkin. “Could this day get any worse?” I mutter.
After seventeen years, I really should know better than to tempt the universe.