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According to the brochure, I would choose a major and minor in my second year. By then, some of the uncouth American callouses may have been scrubbed off, or so the brochure implied.
I figured the girls at my table were lost causes at that point, so I forked my eggs and looked around the room. It was mostly populated by turned backs. That was fine with me because it allowed me to just people-watch without interference. Every so often, I looked toward Buffy. She gave me thumbs up, smiles, and nods of encouragement. I didn’t understand why she was so fearful. Everything was fine, going by the rules. Why was she behaving so anxiously?
It was my first day, and I was feeling those first-day jitters. Buffy wasn’t helping any. The peace of anonymity was welcome. I was still in shock over losing Dad, and the longer I could go without interacting too personally, the happier I was. With one eye on the clock, I stacked my empty dishes and stood from the table. I’d noticed a window at the far end of the room and saw people putting their trays there. I glanced at my purse and books. The books, I figured, were safe, but my purse was private, so I looped it over my shoulder and headed for the window.
I noticed a rowdy group of boys hugging a table next to the center aisle. They dominated the whole vicinity with their antics, throwing food, cat-calling the girls, high-fiving over a particularly crude joke.
A crew of real assholes, for the most part.
My path led right next to them. I considered cutting through to another aisle, but that would be too obvious. So, I headed straight for them with my chin held high. I was almost abreast of them when I stutter-stepped, breaking my forward rhythm. It was enough of a timing interruption that I saw a rather large, very expensive, suede ankle boot slide out from beneath their table and directly into my path.
The jerk was trying to trip me! Gripping my tray, I reared back my right foot and kicked the offender’s shin on a forward swing. Hard!
“What the fuck?” burst out the offender while the others collapsed into insults and laughter. All except one guy who sat there, undisturbed but watching me.
I swore I saw the corners of his mouth fight a grin.
To my annoyed surprise, one of the laughing jackasses was Sol. Dressed in a slim-cut blazer and a tight-fitting silk dress shirt, he looked as cute as the night before, but his smooth olive-skin face now seemed frightening, his teeth bared like a jungle predator.
So much for Mr. Chivalry, I thought with disappointment, then turned my attention to the would-be tripper. He was similarly well-dressed but more casual in a pair of tight indigo jeans and an untucked white shirt that, on closer inspection, was patterned with the Alexander McQueen skull logo.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said in a soft, sexy voice, “I thought for a moment that a douche had rolled out from under your table, but clearly it was in the seat,” I finished and passed on, the entire cafeteria silent, waiting to see what happened.
All I heard behind me was a lowly-voiced taunt.
“You’ll be sorry,” he said in a sing-song voice that I pretended to ignore.
I left my tray and turned to leave, but instead of taking the exit closest to where I stood, I returned down the center aisle to retrieve my books. I stared at him with a sugary sweet smile as I passed and was rewarded by a dark scowl and upturned corner of his lip. He said nothing more and didn’t try to stop me. It wasn’t because I’d won but because he didn’t want to acknowledge defeat before his tribe. I saw the look in his eyes, though. He was planning already.
I glanced at Buffy on my way back. Her face was white, and she was trying to look away. Damn! I thought. She’s scared.
A bell began to ring, and people scuffled to their feet, hurrying to put away their trays. The moment had passed. Maybe I should clarify—the first battle had passed. I was up by one. For the moment, I knew better than to relax.
Since our dorms were within the building, there were no lockers. That meant I had to carry everything I needed for the day with me. I used my backpack and was fully aware that I needed to build up my shoulder muscles, so I didn’t look like a hunchback. Consulting the map in my arrival booklet, my first class was in the external building, first floor and not too far down the hall.
Keeping my head down, I walked as fast as I dared, keeping close to the wall. As I passed rooms, I sneaked a peek to see what was inside. Most appeared to be offices—for professors, I supposed.
