by Laury Falter
Then lunch break arrived…along with the familiar prickle of hair standing up on the back of my neck.
CHAPTER FOUR: A TEST
There were two areas to the cafeteria, an inside seating area and a patio. With the thunderstorm pummeling the patio and grassy area beyond, every student congregated inside. I didn’t know whether it was because of lack of seating or because it was the first day back and group cliques had lessened over the weeks away but those who wouldn’t ordinarily share their table were doing it today.
Eran and I made our way through the lunch line where we bought ham sandwiches, chips, and sodas before making our way to a table across the lunch room. Because of the rain, it hadn’t been possible for me to bring my preferred sandwich, a muffaletta which I bought at the same deli every day, so we had to settle for stale bread, processed meat slices, and near-plastic cheese.
“So you like your classes?” I asked weaving my way around a chair left in the middle of the aisle. Eran smoothly moved it out of the way for me.
“I do,” he said, diligently keeping himself aware of all the potential threats he saw, which went virtually unnoticed by me. “The teachers are capable. The lessons are somewhat limited but for that I blame myself. I think that I’m aware of so much more than what they plan to cover that I’m slightly disappointed.” It was admirable that he didn’t fault the teachers for being unable to keep up with him. With centuries of knowledge, he would be a tough student to please.
“Yes,” I replied, lowering my voice. “It would be hard to cover five hundred years in a single semester.”
He glanced back to address my teasing with a suppressed grin. “And you?”
“I think I’d like them more if I could keep my mind on them,” I admitted.
“Maybe we can work on that…” he suggested. The fact he used the word ‘we’ told me that he’d understood I was passing my time thinking about him.
“I’m not sure that is possible but I’m open to ideas.” I drew in a breath to laugh when my nerves flared and my voice released a moan instead.
Without delay, Eran turned to me, aware of what had just happened. He waited for me to single out whomever it was causing the reaction.
I was already scanning the room when the cafeteria door opened and a boy and girl, each with bright blonde hair, entered. I noticed they had the same facial features with distinctly Swedish traits as they stopped just inside the door. Their eyes crossed the room slowly until they landed on Eran and me.
The irritation at the back of my neck spiked suddenly and I heard the silverware rattle on my tray as a result.
As arch enemies, we stared across the cafeteria, daring the other to make a motion. If something did happen, if someone were to take an offensive stance, I was certain that chaos would ensue and cause injury, not only as a result of the raging battle but from the stampede that would follow as students tried to escape the cafeteria. There was no telling how many people would be hurt.
“Who are they?” I asked Eran, keeping my voice low, which also helped prevent it from quivering.
“The Kohler twins. Haven’t seen them since Germany.”
My immediate thought was that if these Fallen Ones hadn’t shown themselves in the last few hundred years and they’d suddenly walked through the door in to our lives now…Marco had been telling the truth. More Fallen Ones were arriving. If that part of his message were true, it also meant that someone was preparing for a battle against us, one that he’d forewarned was said to be vast.
I knew Eran was thinking the same thing. His expression was still glowering though, I noticed.
Very briefly, my nerves spiked and I knew the Kohler twins were projecting hatred our way. I dug my fingers further into my tray, trying to keep my soda from tipping. It seemed to help a little.
Concentrate, I thought. Concentrate on something else. My mind became erratic then and I noticed nearly everything in my close surroundings at once but locked on nothing in particular. I saw the half-eaten apple on the tray three tables over was browning already, that one of the girls to my right had dipped her sleeve in spilt chocolate milk, and that the vent across the cafeteria had just turned on and spewed a puff of dust into the room.
“Magdalene,” Eran said, anxiously. “Magdalene?”
That seemed to break through to me and I refocused on him. “Let’s sit down,” he insisted, quiet and calm.
I raised my eyebrows at him.
“It doesn’t look like they’re interested in us,” he mused. “Not yet at least.”
Amazed, I refocused on the Kohler twins and found them moving through the lunch line, neither one addressing us any longer. They now appeared to be normal students interested in nothing more than their choices between black or refried beans.
Eran took my tray – before I dropped it – and led me to a vacant table near an exit door. Considering it led to the outside and into the rain, I figured it was probably locked but with Eran’s strength he could push through it at any time if we should need it.
“It wouldn’t be good to leave right now,” he was explaining, setting our trays on the table. Luckily, no one else seemed to want this particular table as it was in the far corner and beneath a broken light fixture. That gave Eran and me more privacy. “It’ll make us look unprepared and we don’t want to appear that way. I can handle them should they attempt anything. They’re not very skilled in the art of fighting so they can be easily overcome.”
I was trying to process all that he was telling me but having difficulty with it. My hands were still shaking.
He paused and his voice grew soft, warm. “Magdalene, are you all right? If not, we can leave-“
“No…no.” I drew in a deep breath, settling myself. “This is good practice…to calm my nerves.”
He watched me steadily, not quite believing what I said. “It’s your call. We can go any time you want.”
I shook my head, taking a second to pause in the Kohler twin’s direction. They’d taken a seat at a table close by, on the route out of the cafeteria, and were now sneaking peeks at us too.
“How…” I shuddered and refocused myself. I was determined to control these nerves better than they controlled me. “How do we know them?”
Eran was taking a sip of his soda and trying to appear at ease. He swallowed before answering. “They found us during the Germanic Peasant Wars or rather we found them,” said Eran matter-of-factly. “They were drawn to the strife the peasants were encountering to prey on the defenseless. We thwarted them and they retaliated – though not well. I’m not certain, but I wouldn’t doubt that they still hold a grudge regarding it.”
“Well…how did they prey on them?” I persisted, my food remaining untouched, mostly because I was still battling my nerves.
“They entered the wars under the pretext that they sided with the peasants and would then take the lives of the peasants while no one else was present, blaming their murders on their adversaries.”
“Hmmm…” I said, thoughtfully. I shook it off and added, “How did we find out they were murdering the peasants?”
Eran lifted his eyebrows. “Through you.”
“Me?” I asked, stunned.
He shrugged as if it wasn’t surprising. “Yes…Well, actually, through your messages. You delivered a message from one of the dead notifying us to what they were doing. That message instigated the only manhunt for someone from the same side of the battlefield in the history of those wars.” Almost without a break, Eran added, “We should eat or it’ll appear odd.”
Following his own suggestion, he took a bite of his sandwich and grimaced. “This is the food they serve in school nowadays? It’s…It’s…”
“Atrocious, or was horrid the word you were looking for?”
“Both,” he said, chewing slowly. “It’s no wonder dropout rates are a concern.” He shook his head.
We nibbled at our food from that point on until nearly the end of the lunch hour. Conversation was limited to superfici
al topics such as whether we’d been burdened with homework already and when our first exam would be. The Kohler twins barely ate as well, I noticed. They were probably having the same reaction to the food as Eran but they did remain in their seats and continued their surveillance of us.
When the bell for the next class was about to ring, Eran stood and suggested that we get moving.
By that point, the cafeteria crowd had thinned with most students preferring to carry their lunch break into the halls. Yet, it was still fairly crowded so when the incident happened a good sized audience was watching.
One moment we were walking unassumingly towards the door and the next a chair came sliding across the tiled floor so rapidly that I didn’t see it until it was nearly at my side. Made of a wooden back and metal framework, anywhere it had hit would have hurt. As it was, Eran intervened, fluidly stopping the chair before it reached me.
He asked tensely, “Are you all right?”
I almost asked why when I saw his palm against the chair’s back, where he’d placed it to break its slide.
“Yes, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He hadn’t moved his eyes from the Kohler twins.
It only took a second for me to realize the chair had come from them. They sat at the end of the open aisle where the chair had slid, each wearing a smirk.
The cafeteria was now still. No one spoke. No one moved. The sound of the rain hitting the pavement outside seemed to have increased in decibels. All eyes were either on us or the twins. I was certain their surprised expression would have deepened if they knew they were viewing the extension of a conflict that had started five hundred years ago.
From my position, I could make out Eran’s tightened lips and narrowed eyes. The message he sent was simple: That…was a mistake. He didn’t seem to acknowledge anyone else in the room but the twins.
Then, with an almost undetectable jerk from Eran’s palm, the chair slid back towards its original direction, at a speed far greater than which it had come. The twins barely escaped its path, each throwing themselves in opposite directions just before the speeding projectile reached them. The chair slammed into the table where the twins had been sitting, shoving it and ejecting all remaining chairs around it several feet away.
Gasps resounded throughout the cafeteria as all eyes turned on Eran. His retaliation had clearly sent a signal that he shouldn’t be provoked – by Fallen Ones or by humans.
We left the Kohler twins picking themselves up off the ground and the rest of the crowd scrutinizing us as we walked out the door.
From the corner of the room, Marco and his cohorts studied us too but didn’t make a move.
Eran was shaking his head as we made our way toward my next class, his anger still riled, making me reconsider twice about asking my question. It wasn’t until his paced slowed some that I voiced it.
“I thought they wouldn’t attack if others were present?”
“That wasn’t an attack, Magdalene,” he explained almost inaudibly, bowing his head towards mine so others wouldn’t hear as we passed them in the hall. “They were playing with us.”
We didn’t speak again until we were just inside the classroom door. What he then recommended I immediately rejected.
“I feel it is necessary for you to leave the city.”
“Eran,” I scoffed. “That…that…whatever you call it…playing around back there did not scare me.”
We paused until two students passed by on their way to their seats.
Before giving him a chance to respond, I continued, keeping my voice low, “And it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been there. We stayed because you were there to protect me, remember? If you hadn’t been there, the moment I sensed them I would have left the cafeteria, giving them no opportunity to…to play with me.” He and I both knew that wouldn’t have happened. I would have stayed, refusing to be run off. He opened his mouth to oppose me so I added, “This isn’t the time. I think you would agree.”
The class was settled now and the teacher, Mr. Gomer, was approaching us by that point.
“I’m safe here,” I whispered quickly.
He shook his head again in frustration, this time at me, but he gave a courteous nod to Mr. Gomer and slipped out the door.
“Ms. Tanner,” said Mr. Gomer tightly. “Would you mind taking your seat so we may begin our study of the Spanish language?”
“Sorry,” I replied, swiftly moving passed him to the only open desk left.
Only after settling in and pulling my writing pad from my book bag did I notice that Bridgette sat directly beside me. She rolled her eyes at me and I knew that she’d either seen or heard about the incident in the cafeteria.
At that point, I wasn’t sure this day could get any worse.
As it turned out, once I was able to ignore Bridgette I found the class was nearly as interesting as Ms. Beedinwigg’s, though without the charismatic musings and regular strolls around the room. I actually began to enjoy myself by the time the end of class arrived, my excitement rising also because I was about to see Eran again.
He was waiting for me before the bell rang and the students could spill out into the hallway.
He was eager to talk, I could tell, but the number of other students in the hallway seemed to have doubled and prevented it.
Keeping close beside me, we strolled silently towards the West Hall. There was talk of prom night, college acceptances, and unbearable course loads. There was also talk of the cafeteria clash. More than a few students ducked their heads and whispered as we passed them, reminding me of the lab explosion last semester in which I became the notorious student with a reputation for causing destruction and injury. I was once again in familiar territory.
Eran seemed to have overheard because the only thing he said before leaving me at the door was, “Don’t pay attention. It’ll die down.”
I wasn’t so confident.
The last class, which happened to be another elective course in sculpting, was painfully long. It wasn’t because of the few students who sent frowns in my direction to condemn me again for something that wasn’t really my fault but the fact that no sculpting could begin until the clay arrived the following class. So, we spent the hour talking about the many different types and nuances of clay. It was a very long hour.
The only positive was that there were no Fallen Ones or Bridgette Madison’s in this class.
Most of the time, I spent cogitating on how to handle Eran’s determination that I leave the city. This was a logical option, I knew. Clearly, Fallen Ones were arriving and a fairly significant attack was on its way. However, there is a part of me, a rather large and vocal part, which adamantly detests running. Eran calls this trait stubbornness. I call it rational. Running only encourages and emboldens enemies, something I refuse to allow. By the end of the class, I had found no resolution that would appease my needs and Eran’s simultaneously.
The bell rang and I found Eran, once again, waiting for me outside the door. Despite the Fallen Ones arrivals and our disagreements on how to handle it, my interest in seeing Eran had not been tempered. I couldn’t stop the smile now lifting my cheeks nor did I really want to.
“Good last class?” he asked, cordially. He seemed far more relaxed than before.
“It’s good to see you,” I said.
Then my smile faded.
Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of blonde hair halted directly in front of Eran. Instinctually the muscles in my back tightened.
“Bridgette Madison,” she said, holding out a bejeweled hand in greeting.
Eran hesitantly reached for it. As slight as it was, he’d noticed my reaction to her and was therefore guarded.
Watching now as she gazed up at Eran through thickly covered eyelashes, I suddenly realized that I’d been wrong. Bridgette hadn’t rolled her eyes at me in class because of the cafeteria clash. I got the suspicious feeling she was interested in Eran.
“What can I do for you, Bridgette,” he ask
ed, amiable but unsmiling.
“Well…we have a group planning prom night. I manage it,” she said with artificial modesty. “We wanted to know if you’d like to join us.”
“In going to the prom?” asked Eran, innocently.
“No, no. I’m…I’m not asking you to the prom.”
Clearly, I thought. She wouldn’t lower herself to break tradition. She was going to wait for him to ask her, and that annoyed me.
“I meant,” she continued, “in planning it.”
“In planning what?” he asked, retaining his oblivious expression.
I glanced at Eran, found that he was playing with her, and had to stifle my laughter.
“In planning the prom.” She seemed flustered. Evidently, she didn’t know her simple question would be so confusing for him. For good measure she added, “Would you like to join our group in planning the prom?”
Eran thought this over for a few seconds, though I’m certain it seemed much longer than that to Bridgette. He finally answered, “No, I don’t think so…but thanks for the offer.”
Her face contorted in to a mixture of confusion and offense. “Oh…all right.” Bridgette was rarely rejected and it showed.
Agitated, she finally turned to me and muttered with downturned lips, “Maggie,” before turning on her heels and headed down the hallway.
“She was flirting with you,” I said, between clenched teeth, trying to contain my anger.
“I believe she was,” Eran replied simply.
We didn’t speak again until we were inside the car, a fair amount of tension lingering between us – which was likely a combination of the looming argument to come and the flirtation I’d just observed. As we slammed the car doors closed, he didn’t move to insert the key into the ignition. The sound of rain hammering the roof enveloped us, giving the false notion of being concealed from the outside world. Eran was watching me, a slight, affectionate smile warming his handsome face. “I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier…” He intentionally waited until I looked at him and then his smile softened. “It’s good to see you too.”