Young Writers Society

“Ah!” she cried, hand flying to her heart instinctively. She shoved his shoulder. “Why would you do that?”

“The question is why would you do that?” he replied in a snarky tone. Elliott wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. She wanted to smile. She settled for shaking her head.

“C’mon you idiot. We’re going to miss dinner.”

“You’re going to miss dinner. I have private room service, if I want it.”

“Oh, of course you do. How could I forget? Maybe it’s just because you choose to eat slop with us every night.” Elliott made a tiny smile. That was one of Jude’s nicer aspects.

“I only do that because I need an audience to boast to,” Jude sniffed, puffing up his chest. He strode forward and down to the main hall, leaving Elliott to jog a little to catch up to him.

The Mess Hall was accurately named. It was loud, sometimes violent, and well, messy. Elliott looked over tonight’s dinner with distaste and decided to take a roll, some water, and two apples. She wasn’t quite sure what the meat was, and that was never a good sign. Tossing one apple up in the air and wiping it on a clean corner of her shirt (which was, admittedly, also dirty), she slid into a seat next to her usual group of friends. Jude had gone directly there, clearly uninterested in the sub-par food, and was currently crowing about some new accomplishment, just as he said he would. Elliott shook her head. Some things never change.

“And then, the hardest problem of the dang exam, and I get a fourteen out of fifteen marks. Fourteen!” Jude bowed his head dramatically as if in mourning and there were scoffs and guffaws from the table. He was standing at the head of the table, one foot on the chair with his hand resting naturally on his knee.

“Oh yeah?” Chrys called up to him good naturedly. “And what was your final score on this fateful test?”

Jude slowly, slowly lifted his eyes to face her. He leaned forward and everyone else leaned forward to him. Truly, Jude had missed his calling in dramatic theater. Not that the theater was much of a life, considering the poor pay that would put an end to his extravagant parties and social interactions. Yet still.

His voice was a sigh and his face fell like a curtain. “Ninety-nine out of one hundred marks.” It was those words, spoken in a forlorn tone, that broke the spell. The table filled once more with noise and shouting.

“Ninety-nine out of a hundred marks and you’re complaining?” Art nearly choked on his food. Spluttering, he looked around as if looking for an explanation. Jude looked offended and Sade made circles in the air with his fork as he chewed.

“Some of us,” he said slowly, pausing to swallow, “aren’t gifted with talents such as you, and are lucky to get seventy marks on an exam- tops. I bet you’ve never had to get more than ten marks off.”

“Alas, it’s untrue,” Jude said primly. He finally took a seat in his chair and stole an apple from Neira, who glared at him slightly before sniffing and returning to her other nine apples. Who's to judge a favorite food? “I've never gotten more than seven marks off.” The table is a mix of groans and longing sighs. Elliott groaned along with them and picked apart her roll. Jude’s eyes bore into her, though, and suddenly she was uncertain.

“Elliott, though,” he continued, taking a bite of his apple and gesturing at Elliott, “She’s been getting perfect one hundred marks on her exams.”

Now everyone went silent, fixed on Elliott for once. Jude didn’t have much of his mother in him, but he still knew how to manipulate people, just in more of a social situation way. He knew how to draw attention to himself and he knew how to make it leave him. The fact that he’d drawn it to Elliott on such an uncomfortable topic meant that he wasn’t going to let her slip about not telling him of the other world.

Elliott could hear their responses before they said them. She knew exactly how each would answer. She was walking away from the table before she knew it, tossing her apple up and down, up and down. Someone called after her, but it was too faint to hear. She flew up to the highest point she knew of, where she could see the ocean and everything else. Slowly, thoughtfully, she ate her apple. Each crunch of her teeth on the apple sounded hollow in the still night, and each bite did nothing to fill her up inside. She sighed as the lanterns winked on one by one, dotting the indigo landscape with a cheery glow that the world as a whole ignored.

After two hours, Elliott flew back to her dorm room. What was it she felt- disappointment? Had she wanted Jude to come after her? Perhaps she was just imagining his sensitive side. Perhaps he really was only the obnoxious center of attention, with his mother's cold ice inside, waiting to strike. Even as she thought this, she shook her head. If you couldn't depend on someone you've been friends with for this long, you couldn't depend on anything. Elliott wouldn’t let that happen to her.