I looked to Axela to Nadia and back again. Nadia looked back at me with her honey brown and emerald eyes pleading and held out a plastic wrapped brownie. She made a high pitched noise in her throat, which, in Nadia-speak, meant, "Want it?" I opened my mouth slightly, trying to think of a response. Finally, I gave up and slumped down.
"Keep her quiet." I grumbled, taking the brownie. Seth shook his head. Just as quickly as he was disappointed in my gullibility, however, he was glancing meaningfully between me and the brownie. I tore off a sizable chunk and held it out while guarding the rest of my meal within the walls of my arm. Lori snorted at my protectiveness.
"Honestly, Codi. We all know by now that whatever you eat, drink, touch, or breathe must be radioactive. We're not going to touch your food." she said, breaking away from goading a bag of chips from Tasha. I shrugged.
"No one touches the burrito. I'm sorry, but it's Codi Law Number.... wait.... oh yeah! Codi Law Number Six, right behind 'Don't let Nero near anything caffeinated' and right before 'Don't touch Nadia or Lori when they're in a bad mood'." I said, scanning through my mental list of what I called 'Codi Laws'.
I dove at the tortilla wrapped goodness again, this time from the side. Of course, I had to eat from the sides, seeing as the burritos that came from the restaurant I was most partial to were about as thick as my calf. I kid you not. A clump of rice mixed with salsa fell onto the plastic wrap. I didn't bother picking it up- the sour cream was calling to me.
As I tore apart a chunk of beef, Seth asked, "Hey, what was up at the end of fourth?" I almost choked on the meat in my mouth and gagged. Nadia and Lori, who were on either side of me, both thumped me on the back. I coughed and swigged down some water quickly, trying to stall for time to create an excuse.
"I just.... didn't want to miss my last lunch as a sixth grader, that's all." I said, flashing a sheepish smile. I added a shrug as well and tucked my hair behind my ear. If I was going with this story, I was going to play it up big time. A grin broke across Seth's face.
"Aw, Codz! We're all sad to be moving up to seventh. Well, glad that we passed, I guess, but sad to be leaving behind the innocence of our first middle school year." His remark received a snort of skepticism from everyone.
"Innocence? Need I remind you that the average number of fights per day is three to four? Half of which come from our side of the school?" Nadia scoffed. Lori laughed.
"And that one fourth of the school isn't in juvie due only to sheer luck?" Lori continued.
"And that this is an urban public school, not a prim and trim private school nestled in the suburbs?" I finished. "In Houston, Texas, USA?" I added as an afterthought of sorts. Seth ducked his head.
"Well, sorry. Just saying." he said, more to himself than any of us. I reached over and patted his raven head.
"There, there, Seth. We were just stating the facts." I said in what I hoped was a consoling voice. I began to distractedly braid his hair (shut up, I'm weird) and nibble at my burrito at the same time (Codi Law Number Seventeen: Always eat the burrito in opportune moments).
Over the span of the last ten minutes of lunch, I managed to twist his silky black locks into a series of interwoven braids. When the bell rang, Seth jolted up and shook his head violently, undoing twelve minutes' worth of idle work in all of .17 seconds.
One braid remained, though, and trailed from the base of his skull to the nape of his neck. I clamped my hand over my mouth and had to restrain myself from fiddling with it as I trailed beside him.
"Codz? You 'right?" Seth asked, gesturing vaguely at my forcibly closed mouth. I responded with an "Uh-huh!" but with my fingers pressed across my lips, it came out more like, "Mu-rm!" Seth shrugged, and the braid slipped over the edge of his tee and up again.
I couldn't help it. I cracked up. I clung to Seth's arm and gasped for breath, gripping my side with my free hand. Seth gave me a sidelong glance and sighed, probably wondering what had caused this time's spontaneous hysterics.
"Braid....bwahahaha! Tee....bahahaha... shirt....pfwahahaa.... shrug....pahahaha!" I choked out between bursts of laughter. Seth glared at me suspiciously and swatted at the back of his neck, his fingers splayed in an attempt to comb out the offending braid. I sighed and wiped a tear from my eye. I released Seth's arm and patted the lacquered white wall affectionately.
"Oh, Jesus Christ Superstar. I'm going to miss being a sixth grader." I said. To anyone else, my voice may have sounded weary, but Seth knew I just had my head approaching the clouds.
"Come back to Earth, O Hysterical One, the Center West is about to intersect with the Far Back." he said. I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. With a theatrical sigh (lightly strum the vocal cords, tilt your head, look upward), I pulled from my reverie-that-was-not-a-reverie and turned the corner, narrowly dodging Lizzie, who was chasing some boy.
In doing so, my shoulder scraped against a corner and yelled in protest, the muscle straining. I rolled it a few times, and the pain faded. Taking care not to jar it again, I continued rolling it and stuck to the little pockets of space just between the lockers and the much-hated center lane. I reached my locker and twisted in the combination carefully, rubbing my sore shoulder with one hand.
Seth, two lockers down, said, "You going to the library?" I shook my head.
"As much as I hate some of the people there, it balances out. 'Sides, I want to talk to Mrs. Iris." I said, shrugging gingerly.
I pushed the locker door shut and shifted my books to my hip. Backpacks weren't allowed between classes (too many concealed objects, I think), which was both an advantage and a disadvantage. Either way, it meant there was extra weight to carry.
Seth and I turned into the Donut (the little semi circular hall tucked away behind a wall) and took an immediate sharp right turn into Mrs. Iris' classroom. We were met with Mrs. Iris and Nadia talking casually about some new book in some series that I had never read, Daniella drawing something on Jocelyn's (who was enraptured in the scene in the mirror in front of her) arm with what appeared to be permanent marker, and the other Josseline (Jay-Jay, as we called her) on the verge of murdering Xavier, who was sprawled across three desks and trying to trip anyone and everyone. I shuddered slightly.
Why did this remind me somewhat of a scene I would see in a prison facility?
