Chapter 16
WEIRD DINNER
As soon as ballroom basics ended, Mister M went back to pretending I don’t exist, which is perfectly fine by me.
Dinner starts out quiet, the way it always does.
We find our unofficial assigned seats and settle in.
Mister M at the head. Avery on his left, an empty chair on the right.
Ivy and June sit on the left, with Bri and I opposite.
Bri used to sit next to Mister M, until he made a comment about her manners being abysmal.
She cried, I spoke up, and the consequences were far from worth it.
Whatever Mister M was served looks good.
Meat of some kind, real mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, fresh bread.
Our entrée on the other hand, is…unfortunate.
It’s supposed to be soup, I think. If soup were made with fewer ingredients and more self-loathing.
Like whoever cooked it directly imbued it with sadness.
It has no scent, and the flavor profile is so confusing that no amount of words could capture the abhorrent feeling every bite inspires.
June’s not liking it either, if her mock gagging is any indication.
“Do you think the enforcers get better food than us?” I whisper not-so-quietly across the way. June chuckles, then tilts her head, genuinely pondering it.
“I’m not even sure they eat,” she whispers conspiratorially, glancing between them with narrowed eyes.
“True, they could be battery powered.” I raise my spoon in agreement, my focus catching on Colt. He smirks, then shrugs, keeping the mystery alive.
“Caught you staring,” June sings, sticking her tongue out at me.
“Was not.”
“You were,” she whispers, jade eyes glinting. “It’s fine May. He’s pretty, for an enforcer. Plus he’s got the brawn.” She flexes her arm and pulls one of the dumbest faces I’ve ever seen.
I smother a laugh, about to fire something back when Brielle pokes my shoulder, nodding toward Avery.
She’s frowning into her soup, swirling it with her spoon and sending little ripples across the surface.
The bowl is still full, which would be unsurprising if it was anyone else.
Without warning, she drops the spoon. It clatters into the bowl, sending droplets exploding outward.
They fly right at her face, then veer, pattering harmlessly onto the tablecloth.
Mister M’s head snaps up. He grips her hand and asks if she’s all right.
Avery’s lips start moving wildly, words spilling too fast and frantically for me to decipher. She’s leaned in close to him, face deadly serious, whispering like the air itself will swallow her if she stops.
“I can’t—” Her whisper spills into a cry, wide eyes darting to the ceiling and lingering like she sees something we don’t.
I follow her gaze, finding nothing but symmetrical white panels. Avery to Brielle, bright eyes feverish. Bri shrinks into her seat, looking nervously between Mister M and her lap.
For a moment, Mister M’s smile falters. He bends down, closer than he ever does in public, command slicing through the silence. “Stop.”
Avery flinches but keeps whispering.
“Stop it,” he snaps again, harsher. His hand clamps the back of her chair, knuckles going white. “Do you hear me? Stop.”
The entire table goes still. Bri bites her lip, staring into her soup. June and Ivy freeze. I keep my eyes trained on her. He squeezes her hand again, and Avery’s whispers die out. Golden strands fall over her face as she drops her head in her hands with a muffled cry.
Mister M straightens slowly, smoothing the front of his jacket. “Eat,” he says pleasantly, as though nothing happened.
My spoon jolts with static when I touch it. I fight the urge to wince. Instead, I drag it up to my lips and choke down a bite of lukewarm soup.
Behind the blind obedience drilled into my psyche, an ache swells in my chest. It’s not hard to get on Mister M’s bad side, but something is still seriously wrong with both of them.
Avery’s eyes are too wide, her lips bloodless where she presses them together.
He’s smiling again, but the way he looks at her makes my blood run cold.
It’s rude to stare, but I do it anyway.
Brielle leans in to whisper something, but her spoon catches as her arm brushes the table, clattering to the floor and tipping the bowl.
June reaches across to catch it, but most of it still splatters onto Brielle’s pink uniform.
Mister M’s head flicks up again, hazel eyes wide with fury.
His jaw tightens as he stares at the mess.
I hesitate, but the fear plastered on Brielle’s features tells me I need to do something. Now.
I pretend to reach for her, tipping my full glass of water into my lap. Just as I’d hoped, the glass rings out clear as a bell as it slams against the wooden table. I cringe; the water is absolutely freezing against my skin.
To say Mister M is irate would be a grave understatement. He glowers at me, at Bri, at Avery, at June and Ivy, who haven’t even had a chance to screw up yet. I offer him my most polite smile.
“I’m sorry, Mister M. I must’ve slipped.”
“Slipped,” he echoes, unconvinced.
Colt steps forward. “I can get her a towel—”
“No,” Mister M snaps. “She’ll sit in it.
” His eyes narrow on me, watching the steady drip pooling beneath my chair with disdain.
I keep my hands folded in my lap, now soaking and clammy.
Brielle bends over her chair to get her spoon, mouthing a meek “thank you” in the process.
On the way up, she slams into the underside of the table, crying out before she can stifle it.
Mister M’s gaze darts around the room. I follow. There are eyes on us. Many eyes. Other pods, other mentors, even a few instructors at a table in the corner. He forces an exasperated sigh, slamming his palm against the table and standing.
“Dinner’s over,” he announces, jaw clenched like he’s physically restraining himself. “Sedation’s at eight. Consider it a mercy.” He storms out, snapping his fingers at Colt and Ralston, a wordless announcement that we’re now their problem.
Ivy rises first, tossing her black braid over her shoulder. “Best dinner I’ve ever had.”