I was craving the beef casserole, hoping it would taste like the recipe Mom used to make. Even though Dad could easily afford to hire a cook, Mom preferred to prepare and cook the evening meal because she believed that a family that sits together at the table stays together. She was right because my father loved her deeply, which was why it was a shock when he started dating the woman he’s married to now so soon after my mother’s death.
“Well, well, well,” a deep, mischievous voice crooned, as warm breath swept over the back of my head. “If it isn’t the Boleyn girl.”
“Wrong girl,” I didn’t bother looking at Ezrah because I sensed him before he spoke. I didn’t see him come in, although he’s difficult to miss because he’s so tall and impressive. “Mistaken identity.”
“I can see it’s you, Adina,” he whispered, as I felt something softly touch my ponytail. “I bet you look great with your hair out.”
The beef casserole was in sight, and I kept my focus on that large pot that was shrinking before my eyes as each student scooped out their portions. “I’m sorry, I think you’ve confused me with someone else.”
He snorted. “Good try, Adina.”
Cool air flushed over my back as he left my side, and I searched for him to find that he was walking to a table…oh, Robbie from the gym and other lookalikes were slumped in chairs. I was certain they weren’t there when I walked in, so they must’ve arrived just now while I was up at the buffet, drooling over the beef casserole.
Get out of my way and give me that beef casserole now.
Finally, I arrive at the large casserole pot and use the huge serving spoon to scrape the bottom and pile it onto my plate. Nothing else mattered at that moment than me eating that beef casserole. After grabbing a knife and fork, and felt relieved that I could finally fill my empty stomach with a nourishing meal.
As I headed back to my seat, I was aware of the many pairs of eyes watching me, and I started to feel nervous that I might trip up and drop my plate. That would be the worst thing ever. Dropping an entire plate of beef casserole in front of the Warwicks, who were three tables away from the Yorks.
Carrie, Erin, and Mila were in the throes of a conversation as I approached, and then suddenly stopped talking when I arrived, and I tried not to allow my mind to go down that insecure road of assuming they were talking about me.
Creating imagined dramas only makes life harder, so I pretended I hadn’t noticed, and when I sat down, I said, “You’d think those pricks would have a dining hall closer to their frat house.”
“The Yorks?” Erin asked, wondering who I was talking about.
“Well, yes, them too, but I was actually referring to the Warwicks,” I clarified. “It’s a long way to travel just for dinner.”
“Maybe the food is better here,” Mila suggested, as she watched what they were doing, while my back was turned to them. I was tempted to look behind me, but that would reveal I was interested when I wasn’t.
“Maybe they’re keeping an eye on you,” Mean Girl Carrie said with a clenched jaw, so it came out sounding slightly malicious.
“I hope not,” I replied honestly.
“Aren’t your family enemies?” she pressed, and I looked to Mila to read her face, as I had confessed to her the day I arrived, who the Warwicks were to my family. It’s no secret, and I didn’t care if discussions were had about this subject behind my back, but I wanted to know who was on my side and who was on theirs. Because at that moment, I felt very much like a one-person army.
There was an awkward silence as they waited for me to answer Carrie, and luckily, Mila spoke up to change the subject, “I bumped into Ashthorn earlier.”
“Oh god,” Erin scoffed, “He’s crazy. Pretty and hot, but totally cray cray.”
Mila’s eyes were gaping as he leaned forward and said, “He was in Morgana again.”
“Really? How did he get in? I mean... is he a resident?” I stressed, poking my fork into a piece of beef and shoveling it into my mouth, and it tasted so good. Not as flavorsome as my mom’s, but good enough to satisfy my hunger.
She scrunched her face in concern, and her fingers brushed her lips' cuts from the razorblade in the cupcake incident. The cuts had faded significantly, but were still visible and continued to trigger guilt in me. “I’m not sure. He was in the kitchen and asked me if the bowl of food belonged to me. God, why would he be irate over a bowl of food?”
“But there’s only about four people I’ve noticed in Morgana… wait. Maybe he’s in the room beside you on the third floor?” I suggested that as my heart rate increased while I moved closer to solving the mystery of who was in room 18.
“I still haven’t seen anyone emerge from that room, but I’ve heard them twice,” she explained.
“What sort of noises?” Erin asked, fascinated, eyes gaping in wonder. “Not sex noises?”
“What girl would have sex withhim?” Carrie added inthattone. “He barks at girls to make them scream, so I wonder how he’d even ask them on a date or up to his room when he can’t even speak to girls properly.”
“Barks?” I questioned, as that particular behavior reminded me of someone, “Like a dog?”
Mila laughed. “No. I meant…furniture scraping across the floor, and last night I heard them opening the window, so I poked my head out of my window hoping to catch them, but no, I didn’t see a thing.”
“What about music?” Carrie added as she chewed the meat off the chicken leg in her hand. “Deathcore or whatever it’s called.”
