Renegade

15 | challenge accepted

Melvyn 

I glance up and down around the room, marvelling at the massive changes the ceremony's protocol has undergone. Instead of just kick starting the thing, I walk in to the rest of the class of '61 and their parents/guardians being treated to what seems like a splendid lunch. I gaze around, searching like a mama bird until I find the rest of the Five. On our table is a card saying, "Kilton's Favorite Five." How sweet. 

I gently pull Jay's chair out, as we take our seats awaiting the start of the luncheon. 

"I must say. Juanita, you look stunning," Edwin says lifting his glass in the air. "And Mel, my man, you clean up quite well." 

I don't answer. I'm too focused on my coffee. 

"Why, thank you," Jay says, nudging my shoulder. "Mel's just a little bit overwhelmed." 

"Indeed I am," I finally speak, and immediately return my attention to the spiralling balls of steam emerging from my ceramic cup. 

I take a second to observe Simone's movements as she skilfully helps herself to the contents of the fat china teapot placed in front of her. My gaze averts back to my coffee, but not before we're approached by a french-looking waiter, who's obviously here to note our preferences.  I haven't even touched my coffee, and the luncheon has started. 

"Welcome, one and all, to the maiden Kilton Prep Graduation Luncheon." Kilton's voice reigns in the hall. Jay smiles as he speaks. "I do hope you'll enjoy our food tonight." 

That's sort of a rhetorical question. This guy's got dishes from every ethnicity you could think of. Except maybe, say, food from Turkmenistan. If you didn't like the food, you'd stay quiet, or you get kicked out of the luncheon. Easy as pie. 

"What'll you have, sir?" a voice utters from beside me. A waiter. I haven't seen this one today. His hair is brown, gelled and glossed to the max. His eyebrows are almost perfectly arched and shaped. Perfect to a guy's niche, that is. He couldn't possibly be a waiter, he could easily get a modelling gig with that face of his. I want to think he's here tonight dressed in black-and-White because Kilton likes to pay his employees generously. 

"That guy couldn't possibly be a full-time waiter. Come on." Alex voices my thoughts. 

"Exactly. He's too gorgeous and well, English by the looks of it. Maybe he's actually a model or something, and CEO's pay for tonight dwarfs his regular earnings." Simone assesses the situation, finally speaking up since gulping down all that tea.  This has unraveled into some sort of argument or something. 

"I like to think that too. I'd totally go for him," Jay concurs, smirking at the last part as I raise a doubtful brow. "He's bomb. What do you think, Mel?" 

"Maybe he's a dove from SRBC, and is going to kill us all with the flick of a wrist." I grit jealously under my breath, shocking everyone.
Alex chokes on his lemonade. 

Judging by their flummoxed faces I can tell I actually said that to their hearing. 
"Come on. I was just playing with you all." 

The waiter comes with an airplane-esque food wagon thing, I can't remember what it's called. He hands out our preferences accordingly. Alex ordered a simple plate of spaghetti and meatballs; Simone and Jay ordered coq au vin, while Edwin and I went for the coquilles st. Jacques, given most of us have quite a penchant for French cuisine. 

A familiar tone rings in my ear buds, almost making me choke on my macaroon. Jay's sent me a text. 

"What is it tonight? You've been off. Do you want to talk about it?"