shattered

splintered

So go on, dare me to lose, dare me to move

Dare me to run

Dare me to prove something to you

Is that what you want?

"Dare," -Daya

As always, the cafeteria was the perfect example of high school. Dan stood gripping his tray of food, surveying the tradition cliques occupying different tables around the room. Jocks, nerds, theater kids, student council...all the unique layers of hierarchy that high school hell on earth. (Yes, I swore, don't explode, that's the extent of profanity).

"Dan!" Across the room, Phil was waving. Only the table that he was sitting at seemed not to have a label. Walking over, Dan saw a girl reading Agatha Christie and absently eating with her other hand, two boys yelling and swearing at their phones, a girl with short-cropped hair and bags under her eyes frantically scribbling on a piece of paper that seemed to be a work-in progress story, and a multitude of other kids of all descriptions pleasantly chatting with each other. Laughter rang loud and clear in an ecstatic aura of contentment that seemed to surround the entire table.

Dan approached the table cautiously, still feeling like these were not the depressed, dangerous crowd that he felt he usually stuck to in new schools. These people had open, shining faces that were too expressive, too full of unaltered happiness and life. They didn't seem to know what it felt like to be broken. 

But Phil was had waved, and he had now gotten up and was introducing Dan to all the others around the table, who smiled without judgement and returned to their conversations. And even thought all Dan wanted was to disappear from the crowded room and find a people-free place to calm down, he still smiled back at the overly-friendly faces, still returned pleasantries. Only when Phil had gotten halfway around the table with names did Dan actually become invested in the conversation. 

The brunet from science, Chris, was there, and Phil was just starting to say, "Dan, this is Chris-" before Chris cut him off with a hand. 

"Yeah, sure, Phil, we all know the [astrologist]'s name. But he had a bit of an attitude in science, wouldn't you say, and I'm not sure he's the best sort of type to take in as a stray, Philip." 

Phil looked shocked, but Dan's hackles were rising. He set down the tray of food, replying as calmly as he could, "Yeah? Why, then?" 

Again, Phil tried to intervene with a "Wait, Chris-", but Chris just shrugged him off. "Well, for one, you've got that "[fizzle] it" attitude, plus, you just don't seem the type to hang around this happy-go-lucky crowd."

Dan could feel his temper rising out of control, but he didn't bother trying to keep it in check. "Well, why don't you just point me to the stoners, then, and I'll be on my way."

Even Phil had abandoned trying to stop them, his hands frozen in a placating gesture. Chris looked kind of taken aback, but he still snarled, "Out the back door to the shed. Go ahead and stay. With the amount of tact you've shown so far, you'll fit right in. Nice piercings, by the way."

"Oh, of course, my bad. I knew there'd be someone pointing it out. I don't look the same as everyone else at this [frizzle-frazzling] sunshine table. Not my fault you can't see past appearances to true character. Why would anyone, who'd bother getting to know the depressed new kid anyway?" Dan felt tears forming behind his barrier of apathy, and spun on his heel, stalking away. As he walked out, he spat over his shoulder, "Nice to meet you, too, you absolute [fun-filled chocolate chip cookie]."

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They stayed in silence for a good two minutes after Dan left. Chase and James had abandoned their games, Sophie looked up from her mystery, and even Nicolitia's pencil had stopped scratching away at the paper. Across the table from Phil, Caleb's fork had stopped halfway to his mouth, and a spaghetti noodle slowly slithered its way back onto his tray.