7 Days in November, Part 14 (Monday)

“Hey,” Bryan said, setting his tray down across the table from Furball.

Furball glanced up at the wolf and forced a small smile. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here this late?”

It was lunch time, something that, above all else, above education, Cherrywood excelled at. First, and most importantly, lunch was already paid for, so students tended to walk in and out during their free periods, sometimes even between classes if they could make it. Some days were better than others, of course, but every day was at least mind-numbingly good: pot-roast, fried chicken, sometimes fish, sometimes amazing sandwiches, always cooked fresh, always criminally good. No student should have gotten meals like this. Never ask a Cherrywood student about their chocolate chip cookies unless you’ve got time to listen to them gush.

The cafeteria wasn’t so big, enough to fit maybe a hundred, a hundred-fifty people at most, but schedules kept kids rotating in and out of the lunch room through most of the day. The kids, for the most part, separated by grades. Part of the reason they stayed separate was that most people’s friends were in their own grades, but the other part was pure, stupid seniority. It’s not that it wasn’t allowed, the mixing of classes, because it was. It was that the upperclassmen felt like they were better than the other classes. This worked against everything Bryan believed. He was no better than the kid sitting across the table from him, no matter how much older he was. It was just another thing.

“There was a test today, and I got done early.” Furball didn’t look at Bryan.

“Hmm…” Bryan started into his food, chicken fingers, a Cherrywood institution, and nodded. Furball had made it halfway through his own food before he couldn’t eat anymore. He pushed the plate away. Bryan watched, then took the remaining chicken fingers off Furball’s plate. He wasn’t being rude; he knew his boundaries with all his friends, he just hated, hated seeing food go to waste.

“You always sit alone like this?” Bryan didn’t look at Furball either, focusing on the food instead, but Furball could feel him looking all the same. Bryan knew before he sat down, before he even got his food, that something was wrong. Furball slumped in his seat and hated himself for being readable.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“I dunno. I don’t think I’d like it.”

The calico folded his arms over his chest and stared out the cafeteria windows. His ears folded down against his head.

Ty sat down without a tray, dropping her head against the table, her hands over her head. Her ears pinned themselves back. She had been crying; Furball could smell it on her. Bryan put down his food. He stroked Ty’s ears.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Ty turned to face him, rolling her head in her arms. He eyes were pink, the fur on her cheeks matted down. She closed her eyes and snuggled into Bryan, pushing her head into the curve of his neck. Bryan held her, stroking her ears and whispering to her. She nodded. Bryan’s ears dropped, and he suddenly looked ill. He was worried, something Furball had never seen before, not from Bryan. Furball shivered.

Bryan pushed his chair out and stood, Ty following. “We’re going,” he said to Furball. “Come on.”