Omega The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,72
out of the fight because I’ve gone and turned my head into a spaghetti noodle of twisty ties.” He waved a hand at me. “Or something. I don’t know.”
“Have you talked to Kat?” I asked.
“No,” he said, sullen. “I tried a couple times...the first, she didn’t even recognize me.” He adjusted the backpack over his shoulder. “The second time I couldn’t even find her to say goodbye. I’m sorry I’m not more use. Sorry I can’t...” He shook his head. “I’m just sorry, in every definition of the word.” His eyes came up, and met mine. “Get out of here, Sienna.”
“Can’t do that,” I said. “Not after last time. How many people died? You should know.”
“I should,” he said, “but I guess I don’t. I was too hard on you last time.” He broke a weak smile. “Kinda hard not to be scared when you don’t feel like you have any power to fight with, huh?” He looked at me soberly. “Good luck, Sienna.”
“I’ll need it,” I said, as I watched him wend his way to the exit doors, the suitcase he carried looking like a burden that was almost too much for him, though I knew for a fact it wasn’t at all what was causing his shoulders to slump.
When I walked into the cafeteria, they were already starting to clean up the buffet from breakfast, and there was no one else standing in the line. I caught a few dirty looks from the cafeteria ladies, but that wasn’t exactly new for me, so I didn’t sweat it. I filled my plate with cold eggs, colder toast, and a mug of coffee laden with a ton of cream and sugar, then made my way to one of the countless empty tables. The glass windows that surrounded two sides of the cafeteria provided me with an expansive view of the autumn-laced grounds; leaves were everywhere. Presumably, the gardening crew would normally have dealt with them, but they were now off work for the week. The cafeteria was also emptier than it normally would have been, and I wondered if the administrative staff was also off work because of the pending threat.
“You’re not real social, you know that?” I turned at the sound of the voice, unaware that anyone had even noticed me. Standing a couple tables away was the kid whom I had seen staring at me only a couple days earlier. “You don’t really talk to anyone but your little group of friends, you know? You kinda put out a... ‘get lost’ vibe.”
“Oh, good,” I said, “it’s still working. Or, apparently not, since here you are, talking to me.”
“I can leave,” he said, beginning to turn away.
“What do you want, kid?” I asked. He wasn’t really a kid, probably only a year or two younger than me, but if he was gonna make with the fawning puppy eyes, I wanted to start putting some distance between us now, rather than later.
“I’m not a kid,” he said, as he turned back around. I disagreed with his assessment, but then, I couldn’t fault him for trying. I would have said the same thing at fifteen.
“Sure you’re not,” I said, laying the patronizing tone on thick. I figured if I gave him enough reasons to leave me alone by being both a smartass and condescending, he couldn’t fail to get the message that I wasn’t interested in him in any way.
“I’m not.” He said it with a decent amount of confidence. “But I don’t suppose that matters.”
“Not to me. What do you want?”
He gave a subtle nod to the chair directly across from me. “Mind if I...?”
I stared at the chair for a beat before turning back to look at him again, his dark hair, overlarge glasses; he looked as though he were trying devilishly hard to be the biggest geek possible. “Do I mind if you...what? Take that chair, turn it upside down and sit on it? Be my guest, but do it elsewhere.” I smiled and took a bite of my eggs.
“Wow,” he said, and his face didn’t fall from my insult, not even a little bit. “I guess it’s true what they say about you?”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, and turned my head to look down at my food. “What do they say about me? Am I a ball buster? A pain in the ass? A personality wrapped in barbed wire and coated in rubbing alcohol?” I looked back up at him and smiled. “If that’s what they say, then