CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Entering Forrester Hall, I saw the cafeteria on my left and a familiar knot twisted in my gut. A line of students all different ages disappeared into an area where food was served. More kids passed me, picked up trays off a nearby counter then stood in line.
I took a tray then got in line and glanced around, trying not to be too obvious, and then I almost laughed—not because anything was funny. At my old school the cafeteria was the noisiest place in the whole school. Even though lunch monitors wanted to keep everyone quiet, there was no getting around all the shouting, laughing, and screaming.
My ears mourned the silence, while at the same time the visual chaos assaulted my eyes. The cafeteria was filled with kids slapping their palms on the tabletops to get the at
