Camille snuck another glance at Ryan. He had veered away, expression sour. Jul’s ploy had worked, whatever her reasons. Why on earth was she avoiding Ryan? Sure, he was in a perpetual bad mood, but he seemed pretty harmless from what she’d seen.
She turned back around, surveying the table. Whatever Jul was avoiding, she wasn’t sure this was better. The top half of Destin Heron’s face was permanently obscured by a thick curtain of dark hair; the bottom half was already hidden behind an American comic, something to do with spaceships and aliens. Jul’s attention was fixed on her spaghetti, single-mindedly pushing the chunks of meat out of the way. Camille was fine with tucking into her own pasta in silence, but it seemed Mac wouldn’t stand for it.
“Should have gone for the chicken pot pie,” he said.
“Same problem,” Jul shrugged.
Mac gestured to her plate. “Cold pasta, nasty tomato sauce, old hamburger meat.” He swept a hand over his own plate. “Chicken. Vegetables. Potatoes. A glorious flaky crust. They have absolutely nothing in common.”
“They both have meat in them.” Jul smiled sheepishly.
“You’re a vegetarian?” he said, like she had a horrible disease. “I am so sorry, you must live in pain every day.”
Jul shook her head, smiling. Her straight, dark hair swept around her shoulders. “I just don’t like meat, alright? That’s all.”
“Don’t tell me you are too?” Mac asked Camille.
In response, she speared a meatball and popped it into her mouth.
“See, look, even the gold ranger is more sane than you.”
Camille’s eyebrows went up. Did he just call her a Power Ranger?
“Being vegetarian is actually really healthy,” Jul explained.
“Well there’d better be some benefit if you’re going to pass up all the food that tastes good, I guess.”
“Keep it up, you’re doing really well,” Destin muttered.
“I mean, whatever,” Mac floundered. “It takes all kinds, right?”
He was so obvious it was painful to watch. Camille sighed and pushed away her pasta.
“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” Jul said.
Camille nodded, knowing Jul meant the food, not Mac. The dark-skinned girl could be pretty oblivious too, in her own way. Why am I still sitting with these people? she wondered, slumping down in her seat. Because if I leave, Ryan will probably come back. Maybe she could swipe a couple of cookies on the way out...
“Told you, should have gotten the pot pie,” Mac said loftily.
“Pot pie...” Camille muttered, trying out the name. “Weird sauce.”
“What? No, the sauce is awesome,” Mac objected.
Destin reached around his comic and nudged his untouched plate towards her. “You can have mine, if you want. I’m not hungry.”
Camille eyed the dish suspiciously. This ‘pot pie’ seemed to be having some kind of identity crisis. It wasn’t sure if it wanted to be a pie or a stew. It smelled alright, though. And she was really hungry...
“Thank you,” she said, reaching for it with her fork.
“How do you get that tall without eating anything, man?” Mac wanted to know.
“Magic beans,” Destin said, turning a page.
Despite the weird color, the pie thing was good, Camille decided. She pulled Destin’s plate closer.
“See?” Mac told Jul. “The pot pie claims another convert.”
“That doesn’t mean I - oh!” Jul exclaimed, staring behind her.
Camille felt something cold drop on her shoulder. Applesauce dripped down the front of her shirt. She looked up and saw a girl who might have been beautiful if she weren’t so smug.
“Oops,” Hayley Dupree said, standing over her with a tray of food and looking utterly insincere. “Sorry, my hand slipped.”
Immediately, Camille picked up her cup of punch and chucked it in Hayley’s face. Her expression was priceless. The red sugar water ran all down her white blouse.
“You little bitch!” she shrieked, swiping at her outfit frantically.
Mac was laughing loudly.
“My hand slipped,” Camille echoed her, grinning.
“Ugh!” Hayley shrieked, tossing her water at Camille. Ice skittered all over the table. The rest of the cafeteria had gone silent, watching them.
Camille shrugged. There were other ways to win fights than using her fists. She grabbed a handful of her spaghetti and flung it at the girl. Hayley dodged most of it - the rest hit her pristine little friend, who squealed and upended her tray on Jul. Apparently that was the starting bell for chaos.
“FOOD FIGHT,” someone yelled, and then the cafeteria was a warzone, handfuls of meals flying across the room. Jul sunk down in her chair, and Destin hid under the table. Mac managed to get a handful of jello into Hayley’s hair before she fled the room, yelling for the principal. Well. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. She grabbed some more spaghetti, looking to tag Sakamoto, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Five minutes later, she was in Umino’s office, bits of ice still melting in her hair.
“What a charming interlude you’ve caused,” the principal said frostily.
“Hayley caused it,” Camille stated.
“Ms. Dupree explained it all. What she did was accidental. What you did was on purpose. Now how are we going to make amends?”
Suddenly the door burst open, and there was Jul, breathless. “Ms. Umino, it wasn’t her fault, ma’am, Hayley started it! Ask Mac and Destin, they saw it too!”
Umino regarded Jul sternly for several moments. “Even if that were true,” she said, finally, “the fact remains that Ms. Teague exacerbated the situation.”
Exacerbated? Camille wondered. What the hell does that mean?
“I just, um, I just wanted you to know she didn’t start it,” Jul said meekly.
“Very well, Ms. Graham.” The principal rose, straightening her suit jacket. “Still, reparations are in order. Since you seem so enthusiastic in supporting Ms. Teague in her endeavors, I am assigning you both to weekend cleaning detail, effective through the end of the semester. If you want to make a wreck of the indoors, you can contribute to its upkeep.”
Jul’s light chocolate skin flushed. “Yes ma’am.”
“And the ganguro?” Camille demanded. Rin Umino was from Japan, she’d know exactly what a ganguro was - dyed blonde, fake tanned, over-applied makeup. Was there a comparable word in English?
A twitch in her facial muscles was the only sign of recognition. “Ms. Dupree has suffered enough indignity today,” the principal said, her eyes narrowing to a glare. “You need to fix your attitude.”
Hayley needed to fix her outfit. Camille hid a grin.
“Hai, sensei,” she acknowledged, making a deep formal bow.
Umino clearly saw through the overdone gesture. “As I said,” she intoned, lip curling. “Your attitude. I will be speaking to your guardian about this incident.”
Camille nodded this time. Speak to Gabriel all you want, she thought. We’re winning.
Jul’s look, however, was one of fear.
Umino gave her an appraising look. “Just make sure your work is done,” she told the tall girl.
“Yes ma’am,” Jul copied her earlier nod, but with a more frantic motion, in repetition. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it won’t happen again.”
So that’s how it was. Jul would assume she was a direct pipeline to trouble now.
“Very well, you may both go,” Umino said, waving them out.
In the hall, with the door shut behind them, Jul let out a long sigh of relief. “That could have been a lot worse,” she said. “Your um, guardian? Will they be mad?”