Vanilla

Twelve

[Leroy]

I could hear the ticking of a clock when there was none, seizing the inside of my head and making it drone like a bad summer heat that needed a swim. The meeting was slow and stupid; repeating instructions that were sent across several emails in the past week and acting as another form of social interaction for the new thirty-five. Compulsory.

"So the exhibition booths must be up and running by three and that gives us about half-an-hour for setup after getting the equipment downstairs. Shifts are voluntary, but promoting the student union is one of the main..." They were dragging.

Could have been worse if it was student-run but having a student union admin from the school's admissions staff wasn't going to command any respect from the students. Not when all thirty-five were ranked at the top of the school. And had better things to do.

"We have elected ambassadors according to the booths and since the exhibition is featuring outdoor cooking, we need volunteers for..." I turned. Some members were already headed to the equipment room where the portable stations were.

I stood and joined them to look for brainless carrying that I could wash my hands off after doing since staying for long was only going to be a waste of time. That, and I had other plans.

"Oh. They put you on setup?" Some girl directed at me. She had a list on a clipboard. "I mean with your skills, they should've put you at the grill or it's going to be a waste. I'll check with—"

"No need," I grabbed the end of a table and headed out the door with some other people on the other end. They looked at me weird and down to the table. I needed them to pick up the pace, so I stared back. They picked up the pace and didn't look at me another time.

"Um. If you say so."

The girl with the list started directing others to the equipment and left us alone. Which was ideal. So along with some other union members who used setup as an excuse to leave the room early, we got the tables and grills down to the side entrance of the main building before assembling them at the bottom of the stairs. Then heading to the plaza.

I was itching to send a text, but I was on my third trip down with two tables stacked on top one another and my phone was in my back pocket. I felt it vibrate. Picking up the pace and assembling them faster than the other third years who were taking their time, I fixed up all the shit they didn't do and got directed by some other logistics member to the exact spot in the plaza. They said Birchwood would be there.

"She's a first year," I stated, implying that she couldn't be part of the student union.

The guy shrugged like it didn't matter to him. "Yeah, but she's the valedictorian of our middle school division and the director's daughter, so. Voluntary ambassador for the pastry booth."

I stopped listening after 'valedictorian' and started towards the plaza with the assembled tables. Some others followed with grills and boxes of fliers. The venue was average; meaning that there was decent shade and sufficient benches for other students to sit around during the exhibition, but the only concern would be a zero-plan for wet weather. Which was stupid since the sky was dark as fuck.

"... leave. Don't worry."

The voice was like a beat. I turned and he was there, and I never imagined anything other than his hair being so easily recognizable but here I was, knowing how he sounded like twenty feet away.