Prom Ghosts (A Perry Moxley & Harry Singer Story)

Lunch Date

Chapter Fourteen (Lunch Date)

Perry

I swear I so badly wanted to knock Daryl off his seat.

"Yo, Angela Kerr!" calls a voice before I could even bolt out my chair and tackle Daryl into the floor.

A sweaty boy in sweatpants tramped over towards our table, basketball on hand. Normally, people would steer clear from our table. Students mostly avoid the odd bunch. We never get visitors at all. Until today.

"You're late for tryouts practice," he tells Angie. "Coach's looking for you."

A puzzled look passed over Angie's face. "Tryouts practice? I don't have tryouts practice –"

"Coach Ruben's called for an emergency meeting today. Haven't you heard? You better hurry up to the gym if you want to play on the game next week, Kerr," the boy shrugs. "You know how much of a stickler he is."

At the mention of this, Angie's face paled as she frantically scrambles up to her feet. We watched in silent confusion as she skidded across the cafeteria, skidding back to us to haul all her stuffs up in one arm and grab her half eaten tuna sandwich from the table to take a bite, mumbled a quick goodbye and disappeared in a flash.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

Daryl makes a face and shrugs. "She's an athlete. She's always on the go."

"That guy was cute," Lobby chirps, twirling a strand of hair on a finger.

Daryl looks at her with utter disdain and gave her a faltering look. At the moment, I was eyeing this other guy hovering nearby. I was beginning to wonder why people started showing up at or table. Suddenly it was as if we were no longer invisible in the school campus' hierarchy.

"Hey, Byrne, emergency drama club meeting," says the guy who this time would whisk Daryl away from us. "Something's wrong with the production."

Have I mentioned that Daryl was also the President of the Drama Club?

Twirling my spoon between my fingers, I hummed in deep thought. Something was a little odd, I mused. I knew very well that there was no production going on in the drama club.

"I guess it's just the two of us left, now," I said to Lobby.

Apparently, she was too busy staring all moony-eyed at the senior head boy as he walks past our table again.

"You're not planning to follow that guy, aren't you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

"No," she scoffs at me. I can see that she was clearly almost at the edge of her seat, ready to bolt any second. "Why would I?"

"I was just making sure," I shrugged.

"Oh please, I'm not that desperate, Perry,"

I nodded. "Good to hear."