Nor (Wattpad Featured Story, WriteAffair finalist)

Chapter 13: The Table Thieves

"Nora?"

The voice is familiar. I look up from my lunch table, meeting eyes with Pia. She's standing with her pale-haired friend, Elena, both of them still with trays. Across from me, Brian says nothing.

"Hey, uh," Pia begins, sounding unsure. "Do you mind if we sit here?"

I lift my brows wordlessly.

"You offered once, and you see, some guys took our table .... "

"Oh. Yeah, sure, no problem." I clear the seat next to me, where Pia sits. Elena takes her place beside my cousin, who keeps his eyes on his corn.

"Those punk skater guys think they're so great," Elena remarks, nodding over her shoulder to demonstrate. "We told them they were at our table, and they just laughed at us and called us dorks."

Pia smiles, shaking her head. She pops her milk carton without even looking at it, shooting a glance at Brian. "Brian, right?"

"Right."

"You're on the lacrosse team?"

"Right."

"I play softball."

"I know."

"You do?"

His ears redden, right at the tips. "Well, I mean, I saw you. And your friends. Playing. Playing softball."

"Oh."

"I noticed you practising your curveball the other day. Right? You kept doing it over and over."

"Yeah, it always goes wide, and Coach hates it."

"Oh."

"Yeah, he's such a slavedriver. I mean, it's just one way to pitch. Can't I live without it?"

"No, you know him. He's a perfectionist. You know what he really hates, though? When you take longer than usual for laps."

"I know! Oh my God, he made Elena's friend do them all over again just because she was slower by five minutes. Can you believe that?"

"I'm sorry," I pipe in. "But I think you guys are exceeding the boring-sports-stories quota right about now."

"Oh, you're just jealous," Brian nips at me. "Miss Third-Chair Violin."

"Hey, I don't mind being third chair. I like being third chair. Lovell pays less attention to me that way. I embrace my third-chairness."

"I knew Pia was like this," Elena deadpans. "But I didn't think you two were as weird too."

One of the guys that have conquered Pia's table wanders by, and the two girls glare at him.

"Asshole," Pia hisses under her breath. "Why doesn't this school have its own Watchers?"

"Not this again," Elena mumbles, but Brian and I are interested.

"Did you say the Watchers?" I ask her.

"Yep." She rakes some fingers through her hair, her face becoming more serious. "I saw them, you know. These cops were hassling some kids, and the Watchers – they came out of nowhere and beat them down."

Elena frowns. She doesn't look comfortable with Pia's approving tone, but I can't help having questions. "How many were there?"

"Around ten, maybe."

"Were there girls among them? I heard they have girl members."

"Right, so did I, but not that day. These were all guys. Some were a lot older."

"Is there a way to recognize them?" asks my cousin.

"No. I mean, they don't have any particular tattoos or wear a certain color if that's what you mean, but you can kind of tell, you know. By the way they pay attention to things, because that's who they are, that's what they do. And how they'll be a bunch of different people together, like those guys were from teens to my dad's age."

"The police are trying to catch them, right?" I say.

"Yeah, but it's hard, without any way to identify them. And they always disappear by the time the cops get there. And a lot of people like the Watchers, so they don't try to help the cops find them either."

"You think they're these super-nice guys?" Elena puts to her friend. "They kill people, Pia."

"Yeah, but ... not usually. And you haven't done anything wrong. Why would they want to bother you?"

"A gang is a gang." Gerringer's words. Elena gets to her feet, her food only half-finished. "I've gotta go."

"Hey, but .... " Pia has to give up when her friend won't listen, won't even look back. She shakes her head, sighing roughly. "Great."

For a long time, nobody speaks. Awkward moment, no clue what's the right thing to say. Brian shifts in his chair, his brow curled, puzzled. "Um ... not to be nosy or anything, but what was that?"

"Nothing. I just like the Watchers and she hates them. End of story."

"It sounded to me like she's scared," I state.

"Yeah. She was never scared of getting mugged or raped, but she's scared of them. Dumb, isn't it?"

"Well, she's entitled to her opinions."

"Is she going to be OK?" Brain asks.

"Yeah. I'm sure she'll forget about it by the end of the day. She'll try to act like nothing happened. Shut it out."

Ignorance. It's always nice. But can it last?