There are no picnic-style tables here, no utilitarian trays or plastic silverware. Three long tables covered in tablecloths in shades of gold and black and cream run the length of the room. They are surrounded by tufted, high-backed chairs and set with real china and silverware.
Classical music floats through the room, dark and more than a little eerie. I don’t know much about this kind of music, but I know creepy af when I hear it, and this is definitely it.
So much so that I can’t resist saying to Macy, “This music is very, um…interesting.”
“‘Danse Macabre’ by Camille Saint-Sa?ns. Overkill, I know, but my dad has it playing in here every year for Halloween. Along with the score from Jaws and a few other classics. It just hasn’t been changed over yet.”
I think about Lia and how she said the same thing about the pillows in the library. In my old school, the Halloween spirit was pretty much exhausted by reading a scary story in English class and a costume contest on the quad at lunch. Katmere Academy takes the holiday to a whole new level.
“It’s cool,” I say as we make our way along one of the tables until we find a cluster of empty seats. “It’s a lot, but Halloween has always been my dad’s favorite holiday.”
“Really? That’s so weird, considering my dad hated it. I thought it must have been something that happened when he was a kid, but apparently not, if your dad goes all out for the holiday.” I asked Dad once, a few years ago, why he disliked Halloween so much, and he said he would tell me when I was older.
Turns out the universe had other plans.
“Yeah, that is weird.” Macy glances around. “But isn’t this place cool? I’ve been dying for you to see it.”
“Totally cool. I want to spend hours just looking at the murals.”
“Well, you’ve got all year, so…” She gestures for me to sit. “What do you want to eat? Besides cherry Pop-Tarts, I mean.”
“I can come with you.”
“Next time. Right now you should get off your hurt ankle for a few minutes. Besides, I’m pretty sure today is going to be a little overwhelming. Let me help out where I can.”
“It’s pretty hard to say no to that,” I tell her, because she’s right. I’m already overwhelmed, and the day has barely started. I’m also touched by how hard Macy is working to make things easier for me. I smile my thanks at her.
“So don’t say no.” She pushes me playfully toward a chair. “Just tell me what you want to eat, or I’ll bring you seal steak and eggs.”
The horror must show on my face, because she bursts out laughing. “How about a pack of cherry Pop-Tarts and some yogurt with canned berries?”
“Canned berries?” I ask, doubtful.
“Yeah, Fiona, our chef, cans them herself when they’re in season. Fresh fruit is pretty hard to come by up here once late fall hits. The display at the party the other day was a special treat.”
“Oh, right.” I feel silly. Of course there aren’t any fresh berries in Alaska in November. If a pint of Ben and Jerry’s costs ten bucks, I can’t imagine what a pint of strawberries would be. “That sounds great. Thanks.”
“No problem.” She grins at me. “Sit down and take a load off. I’ll be right back.”
I do as she directs and pick a chair that faces the wall—partly because I really do want to study the closest mural and partly because I’m sick of pretending I don’t see people staring at me. At least with my back turned to most of the room, I won’t be able to see them and they won’t be able to see my face.
The negative is that I also won’t be able to watch for Jaxon, and I was really hoping to see him this morning. Which sounds desperate, I know, but I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened between us yesterday. I kind of hoped he’d text me this morning, but he hasn’t so far.
I want to know what he meant by that journal page, want to know if it means he feels all the wild things I do. It’s impossible to imagine that he does—I knew he was out of my league the first day I met him. But that doesn’t keep me from wanting him, any more than Macy’s warnings do. Or the air of darkness that he wears like a badge of honor…or a set of shackles. I haven’t quite figured out which.
There’s a part of me that wants to sneak a look behind me, just to see if I can catch a glimpse of him. But it seems way too obvious, at least with half the cafeteria watching me. And they are watching—I can feel their eyes even with my back turned. I know Macy says it’s no big deal, that it’s just new-girl stuff, but it feels like more than that.