The Ivy League

The Ivy League Part 4

I stood in the cafeteria line beside Grace.

"...and black olives, and onions and green olives and some of those jalapeño peppers," I rattled off to a frazzled-looking cafeteria lady who was trying to keep up with my toppings for my burrito. She sprinkled the final peppers and asked, "Any sauces?"

"Yep, that one," I said, pointing to a Caesar dressing which was nearly full. Actually, all the sauces were nearly full.

"You don't want to do that," Grace warned me; but it was too late. The sauce was drizzled and my burrito wrapped.

"Thanks," I told the woman.

"So have you remembered how to talk?" I asked Grace, irked. She hadn't said a word since we had left the change room, brooding over something. She wasn't even eating, and that was one of my pet peeves with other people. Girls who wouldn't eat in public. I mean, we all know you eat sometime, otherwise you'd be dead; what's the problem with eating when everyone else is?

Grace sighed as we moved up in the line. "You'll find out sooner or later. You're a shoo-in anyway, with those witty comebacks, and the hot body and pretty face. Not to mention rich uncle. They're bound to notice you, but I'd rather it be later instead of sooner."

"I'm so glad that you bother to explain what it is you're talking about. It would have been really annoying if you hadn't made any sense."

Grace shrugged and I unwrapped my burrito, taking a large bite.

"Mmm!" I yelped through a full mouth and flapping my hand. Sauce was running down my other hand, the one that was holding the now-soggy burrito.

Grace laughed and I glared. "Dunth shend er lafn a' me, do shnthn!"

"Beg pardon?" she asked, grinning.

I gave an enormous swallow. "Don't stand there laughing at me, do something! Pass me one of those thingies," I said, jabbing a finger at the napkin dispenser beside her.

"Now, now," Grace said with an evil grin, "that won't do. Where are your impeccable Canadian manners?"

I glared at her. "Please oblige me by passing me a freaking serviette you pointless clump of matter."

Not offended in the slightest, she yanked out a napkin and handed it to me. By then, I had already used my tongue to lick off most of it.

"You do know that's nasty, don't you?" Grace asked conversationally.

I shrugged. "I've done worse."

I paid for the stupid burrito which was now a floppy wet tortilla oozing green and black olives, and promptly threw it out on my way out.

"Well," I said, stretching and surveying the scene before me. "That was a waste of four bucks."

The cafeteria was huge; probably a hundred round tables were scattered throughout the massive room. There were at least thirty booths with actual plush seats. On the right side of the room, the whole length of the wall was one big window; I could see the skater kids and cars driving by in the front parking lot outside.

Two of the booths beside the window were elevated a bit by a set of stairs that you had to climb to get there. Those two booths were the highest seats in the whole caf, and you had to look up to see the kids who were sitting there. More like posing there, I thought.

Suddenly a shriek that sounded like 'no!' echoed from one of those two booths and it was loud enough that the whole cafeteria heard, even above the noise of two guys having a break-dance show-down on two tables in the middle of the room. The noise died down and everyone's eyes looked up at the booths, squinting to see against the streaming sun.