Lunch table and first impression
640 Words
By the time lunch rolled around, Elara had already become the topic of every whispered conversation in the hallway.
“She’s from New York—probably rich.”
“Did you see her boots? Designer.”
“Why would anyone move here senior year?”
People at Redwood High had a way of turning curiosity into gossip, and gossip into sport. I’d seen it happen to others. I wasn’t about to let it happen to her.
I grabbed my tray and slid into the usual spot near the back of the cafeteria. My best friend, Micah, was already there, inhaling fries like it was his last meal.
“Yo,” he said through a mouthful. “You see the new girl?”
“She sits next to me in Langston’s class.”
Micah raised an eyebrow. “That close, huh? Didn’t take you long.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that. She barely spoke.”
“Still,” he said, smirking. “She’s hot. You thinking of making a move?”
“I’m thinking maybe people should give her five minutes before treating her like the next reality show.”
Before Micah could respond, I saw her.
Elara stood just inside the cafeteria doors, tray in hand, scanning the room like she was preparing for battle. No one waved her over. No one moved. It was that awkward in-between moment—where everyone pretends not to notice you, but you feel their eyes like lasers on your back.
She started toward the corner, aiming for an empty table.
I didn’t think. I just stood up.
“Hey,” I called out.
She froze, surprised. I motioned to the seat across from me.
“You can sit here. Unless you’re trying to be mysterious and eat alone.”
She hesitated—one beat, two—and then walked over. As she slid into the seat, I saw the wall she had around her start to lower just a crack.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
Micah raised his brows at me behind her, but for once, he kept his mouth shut. He nodded at her. “I’m Micah.”
“Elara,” she said, poking at the edge of her sandwich.
There was a moment of silence, not awkward, just… tentative.
“So,” I said. “New York, huh? Big switch from this place.”
She gave a dry smile. “You could say that.”
“You miss it?”
“Sometimes. Not the noise. Or the people. Just… the honesty.”
That threw me for a second. Honesty? This girl was a puzzle wrapped in sarcasm and shadows.
“I get that,” I said. “This place puts on a lot of fake smiles.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, curious. “You don’t seem like the fake-smile type.”
I shrugged. “I’m not. Gets me in trouble sometimes.”
Her lips twitched. “Good. I hate liars.”
Something about the way she said it made me pause. It wasn’t casual. It felt loaded, like there was a reason behind it. A story. A scar.
Before I could ask, the bell rang, snapping us back to reality.
She stood up. “Thanks again… for the seat.”
“Anytime.”
As she walked away, Micah leaned in. “Dude. She’s intense.”
“Yeah,” I said, watching her go. “But not in a bad way.”
He clapped me on the back. “Just don’t fall too hard, man. Girls with walls like that? They usually build them for a reason.”
I didn’t say anything. But I was already thinking it.
What happened to Elara Monroe before she came here?
And why did I feel like I was about to find out—whether I wanted to or not?
- Writer
