The cafeteria smelled like fryer oil, overbrewed coffee, and whatever industrial seasoning Moonstone Academy bought in bulk for the week. Trays scraped against tabletops. Plastic chairs dragged across tile.
Conversations rose and fell in uneven waves as students compared answers they no longer had the power to change. Finals week had flattened the room into a hundred different versions of the same expression.
One of the televisions mounted near the ceiling cycled through a muted news broadcast before switching channels. A world map flashed across the screen for less than ten seconds. Several regions glowed red beneath a headline Adam didn't bother reading.
The word FRACTURE sat in the lower banner before the image disappeared beneath a sports segment and a highlight reel from some professional basketball game.
Adam sat alone at a table near the edge of the cafeteria with a lunch tray in front of him and his elbows planted beside it.
He'd chosen the table because nobody else had.
His shoulders slouched farther forward than usual. His fork moved between the tray and his mouth with the mechanical rhythm of someone completing a necessary task rather than enjoying it. The sandwich on his plate had lost half its contents. A line of fries remained untouched.
World history was fine.
He stabbed another fry.
I think it was fine.
He chewed.
Oh who am i kidding.
He'd answered every question. He remembered writing something for every essay prompt. He remembered recognizing most of the dates. That had to count for something.
He took a drink.
Calculus.
His eyes narrowed at nothing.
I don't want to think about calculus.
He reached for another fry.
We're not thinking about calculus anymore.
He took a bite.
That exam no longer exists.
He nodded once to himself.
Excellent. Glad I cleared that up.
"Hey."
Adam looked up.
Four first year girls stood a few feet from his table.
He recognized them immediately.
The café, the other day.
Of course.
They'd clearly discussed this beforehand. Three of them hovered behind the fourth like they'd nominated her to carry out a mission and then immediately regretted volunteering her. Nervous laughter bounced between them. One adjusted the strap of her backpack twice in five seconds.
The spokesperson took a small step forward.
"Hi. We met at the café last week."
Yep.
"I remember."
His voice came out slower than he intended.
Another girl smiled. "We weren't interrupting anything, were we?"
Adam looked down at his tray.
A sandwich.
Several fries.
An identity crisis involving derivatives and indefinite integrals.
"No. Nothing important."
They relaxed immediately.
"We wanted to ask you a few things we forgot last time. If that's okay."
Questions.
Yeah. I know where this goes.
He'd somehow become more approachable ever since the revelation. He still wasn't entirely sure how that had happened.
He opened his mouth.
The sigh escaped before the words did.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just a long breath from somewhere behind his ribs that announced its arrival without asking permission.
Before he could answer, someone set a tray down beside his.
Aiva.
She glanced at the first years, then at Adam, then at the nearly untouched food in front of him.
The entire situation seemed to register behind her eyes in less than a second.
"Sorry, girls," she said, smiling warmly. "You'll have to borrow him another time."
The spokesperson blinked. "Ohh."
Aiva nodded toward Adam's tray.
"He still needs to eat, and I need him for something afterward. Priorities."
There wasn't anything sharp in her tone. If anything, she sounded almost apologetic. Still, the message landed exactly where she'd aimed it.
The girls exchanged quick looks.
One shrugged.
Another laughed quietly.
"Okay."
"We'll catch you later."
"Good luck with your exams."
"You too." Adam said weakly
They disappeared into the crowd, their conversation already shifting toward something else.
Aiva slid into the seat across from him.
She studied his face for a few seconds.
"You look terrible."
Adam pointed his fork at her.
"Thank you."
"I meant it as an observation."
"That somehow makes it worse."
"It shouldn't."
"It absolutely should."
Aiva unwrapped her drink and took a sip.
"How'd your exams go?"
Adam leaned back in his chair. "Depends."
"On what?"
"How generous the grading curve is."
She laughed.
"World history wasn't bad."
He narrowed his eyes. "Wasn't bad."
"Yeah."
"That's the phrase you're using."
She shrugged. "It seemed standard."
He stared at her. "Standard."
"Fair."
"You and I have very different definitions of that word."
"I think I can probably make the top twenty."
He nearly dropped his fork. "The top twenty."
"Maybe."
"You say that like you're discussing the weather."
She smiled. "I studied."
"You make studying sound like a superpower."
"It isn't."
He bit into his sandwich. "It definitely is."
Aiva rested her forearms on the table.
"Honestly, I expected them to go deeper into post-Coexistence Act policy. There was an entire section I thought they'd expand on, and they didn't."
Adam chewed slowly.
The two of them had apparently attended completely different examinations.
"Interesting."
"That's all you're going to say?"
He swallowed.
"I answered the questions."
"You answered all of them?"
"I wrote words in every available space."
She laughed again.
"That isn't what I asked."
"It's close enough."
Her eyes narrowed with amusement.
He pointed his sandwich at her.
"We're moving on."
"We're definitely not moving on."
"We are."
"No, we're not."
She shook her head and reached for a fry from his tray. "What about calculus?"
He froze. "No."
"No?"
"We're not discussing calculus."
Her eyebrows lifted. "It wasn't that bad."
He set his sandwich down very carefully.
"I appreciate our friendship."
"What does that have to do with calculus?"
"I think it's important that you know I value it."
"Adam."
He shook his head. "Nope."
She laughed hard enough to lean back in her chair. "Come on."
"No."
"It wasn't the most difficult paper they've ever given us."
He closed his eyes for a second.
Calculus.
He said he wasn't thinking about calculus.
"I thought the integration questions would be harder," she continued.
He opened one eye.
"You know what? I respect that."
"You do?"
"No."
She laughed again.
He pointed at her with a fry. "You're describing academic warfare like it's a puzzle that came out of a magazine."
"You're exaggerating."
"I am absolutely not exaggerating."
"You studied."
"I studied."
"You'll be fine."
He took another bite.
"We don't know that."
"I know that."
He shook his head.
"No, you believe that. Those are different things."
She opened her mouth to respond.
His attention drifted.
Not because he'd heard anything.
Not because someone had called his name.
Something at the edge of his vision pulled his eyes toward the cafeteria entrance before his brain caught up with the movement.
Luna stood in the doorway.
The distance between them swallowed most of the details around her. Students passed behind her. Someone pushed through the doors carrying a tray. Another student brushed past her shoulder on the way out.
She didn't move.
Her gray eyes stayed fixed on his side of the room.
On him.
His fingers tightened around the paper cup beside his tray.
He didn't look away.
Neither did she.
The cafeteria continued around them.
A chair scraped against tile.
Someone laughed three tables over.
A plastic bottle hit the floor and rolled.
He couldn't have said how long the eye contact lasted.
Long enough for him to become aware of it.
Long enough for him to realize she wasn't looking in his direction.
She was looking at him.
Then she turned.
One hand caught the cafeteria door.
She stepped through it.
And she was gone.
Oh that' doesn't feel like its good.
He kept staring at the doorway.
That's...
His eyebrows pulled together.
Yeah that's not good.
"You know," Aiva said, "I'm sorry."
He looked back at her.
"What?"
She folded her hands around her drink.
"I'm apologizing in advance."
"For what?"
Her expression shifted into something between sympathy and resignation.
"For being the cause of something that's probably going to become very uncomfortable for you."
He blinked.
"What are you talking about?"
She stared at him.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah."
Her lips parted.
Closed.
She set her cup down.
"Adam."
"What?"
"You really don't know?"
He frowned. "No."
"You honestly don't know."
He leaned back. "Aiva, you and Luna aren't making any sense lately."
She pressed her fingertips against her forehead.
For a few seconds she didn't say anything.
She just looked at him.
The silence stretched long enough for him to become uncomfortable inside it.
Why would she be jealous.
They're not dating.
That is a fact.
Why would that be a thing.
Aiva exhaled slowly.
The expression on her face carried the exhausted patience of someone who'd just discovered she'd skipped several chapters of a book everyone else had apparently finished.
"You know what?" she said.
"What?"
"Never mind."
"No, don't do that."
She stood.
"Absolutely not."
"Aiva."
She picked up her tray.
"I ate fast because I wanted time to study before the next exam."
"You can't just drop something like that and leave."
"I can."
"No, you can't."
"I definitely can."
He pointed toward the cafeteria door.
"What was that supposed to mean?"
She smiled.
The smile didn't help.
"Good luck on your next exam."
"Aiva."
"I mean it."
"Aiva."
She lifted her tray.
"Try not to make it worse."
"Make what worse?"
She turned away.
"See you later."
Then she disappeared into the moving crowd, leaving the empty seat across from him and an unanswered question sitting exactly where she'd been.
Adam looked toward the cafeteria entrance again.
The doorway was empty.
Students came and went.
None of them had white hair.
He looked down at his tray.
His sandwich waited where he'd left it.
A cluster of fries sat beside it.
Around him, the cafeteria continued exactly as it had before. Conversations overlapped. Trays clattered. Someone argued about an essay question two tables away.
He picked up another fry.
Ah fuck.