The Lunch That Changed Everything

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

The voice came out of nowhere, cutting through the din of an otherwise hectic cafeteria. The subject to whom that voice had directed its line jumped in her seat. She looked up to see a tall boy with a slightly round face with brown skin, curly black hair, and soft, easy brown eyes. He looked athletic in a black sweat-suit.

Her eyes widened. She stammered, “W-what did you say?”

The boy smiled, revealing dimples and white teeth. “I just asked if this seat was taken. No worries, though; I can find somewhere else–”

“No!” she exclaimed. “Please, I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

He sat down across from her and the two shared a moment of complete silence. It might have been awkward if it wasn’t for the fact that no one in the cafeteria was looking at them; they were all absorbed in their phones, in pranking one another, in causing general havoc or chattering away in hushed tones about the ever-urgent matters of high school social theater.

The boy cleared his throat. “I’m Arjun. Nice to meet you.”

“H-hi, I’m Clarice.” She knew she was blushing; she felt the heat rise to her face as her whole body screamed at itself: Seriously, now?!

Arjun threw her a smirk and she returned it with a shy smile. He couldn’t help but notice that she still looked utterly bewildered at his presence. He thought that small-talk would relax her. “Hey, how come you don’t have any food?”

This, if anything, caused her to blush deeper. “I-I have to get it later, once it closes. I kinda… sneak it out of the kitchen.”

His thick eyebrows flew up into the base of his curls. “What? Oh damn, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to–here, have some of mine!”

He pushed the tray in front of her forcefully. The scent of fries and a buffalo chicken wrap wafted up to her, and her stomach growled. Clarice looked at him tenderly, a tear even forming in her eyes, and said, “Thank you.”

Once she’d taken a couple of fries with slender, careful fingers, Arjun grinned and said, “They’re just fries, but you’re welcome. I gotta say, I’m surprised you always eat alone.”

“Always?”

“Well, not to be a creep or anything, but I’ve noticed you a lot. You never eat with anyone. I-I felt a little silly asking if this seat was taken.”

Clarice gave him a smile that teased bitterness through her eyes. “Well honestly, I’m still wondering if all of this is real.”

“Oh c’mon, I’m not that good looking, though my mom does say I’m the cutest boy around about seven times a day.”

They shared a laugh. Clarice’s laugh, Arjun noted, sounded like a gentle summer breeze tinkling wind chimes in the heat. He took a bite of his buffalo chicken wrap and considered her. She looked short, but her limbs were thin and lengthy. Arjun worried that this was due to a lack of food. He began thinking about how crummy her family must be if they couldn’t afford to feed her. He caught himself with a wry smile: Not even one conversation in and you’re already worried about her.

“Arjun? Is everything okay?” she looked at him with concern in her hazel eyes. Her dark hair was long and fell to her mid-back in the slightest waves from a middle part. She had a slim face with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. There were bold eyes with heavy lids and thick eyebrows. Her nose was straight and narrow. Her mouth was small.

Arjun realized he’d been staring and thanked God that brown didn’t blush. Hastily, he said, “Y-yeah, sorry. Everything’s fine. Please, have some more food.”

He was finding that the bravado with which he’d entered the encounter was quickly fading and being replaced by a bubbling in his heart that spoke of a hitherto unexplored passion; the first pinings of love at the door of his consciousness. He was glad that she took some more fries and they were allowed to eat in silence for a few moments; that gave him enough time to figure out what to say.

“So… how do you like Ms. Lindsay’s AP Lang?” He wanted to hit himself: Classes, really?

“You know I’m in AP Lang?” replied Clarice with wide eyes.

“Well yeah, I’m in that class too–”

“I know, I just…” she shook her head. “Sorry. I-I like it! She knows so much about how to present yourself, how to make an argument. I remember when we went over that article in the Boston Globe about dress codes being imposed in some schools around the country. It was so cool how she could take both sides of an argument and make you believe them with your whole heart.”

“Right? I loved that part where we were reading it out and that kid… Stas? Yeah, Stas had to read the part about male sexual urges being provoked in the absence of button-down uniforms–”

“And then the counterargument about how some creeps actually like the schoolgirl outfit,” interjected Clarice excitedly.

“Yeah you can totally tell that Stas is one of those creeps,” said Arjun with a deep laugh. “He was redder than a beet just having to read about it.”

Clarice giggled. Her giggles sounded like the song of an ethereal bird to Arjun, who smiled in spite of himself. He said, “You must be wicked smart, though–you’re in all my APs and I bet you have a couple more that I’m not even in. Where’d you come from?”

“W-What do you mean?” asked Clarice, the nervousness returning to her demeanor.

Arjun grimaced inwardly at this regression in their dynamic. He said hurriedly, “Ah, it’s not important; I was just wondering if you’d transferred in mid-year like me since you don’t have anyone sitting with you, and someone like you is memorable enough to have a whole bunch of friends by this point in the school year.”

“I’m memorable?” Clarice blushed and was furious at herself for blushing.

“Sure,” said Arjun, shrugging. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

She bit her lip as though on the precipice of some great speech, but then shook her head again, waves of onyx hair shimmering in the resplendent sunlight that poured in from the cafeteria’s floor to ceiling windows. “Nothing, never mind. I-I did transfer.”

Arjun couldn’t help but feel uneasy at her caginess “From where? I’m just from a couple towns over, not too exciting.”

“Down south…”

He wanted to ask why there wasn’t a trace of an accent on her voice, but when he looked at her pallid visage, glowing like the moon amidst the blackness of her hair, he realized that she really did not want to talk about this. Clarice’s arms were now crossed in front of her, as though she was hugging herself for comfort. Arjun swiftly changed the subject:

“So are you following Reed’s Calc class?”

She smiled and loosened her posture a little. “Yeah, y’know… as much as I like math, I really have trouble with her. I don’t know why, but the way she explains things is just so all–”

“All over the place?” rushed Arjun. “Yes! I was thinking the same thing! I don’t think she knows how to teach math, honestly. You can tell she’s smart, but some smart people just aren’t cut out to be teachers.”

“Didn’t she say that her husband’s loaded too?” asked Clarice. “Why does she even teach if she can afford to fly private jets to Florida golf resorts?”

“I know, that pissed me off honestly,” said Arjun, taking another bite of his wrap. He added, “Like, what’s the god damn point of flexing on your high school students? Like any of us has ever made more than minimum wage.”

Clarice laughed. “Right? I don’t get it. Who’s she impressing with all of that?”

“I bet the other teachers just hate her. Can you imagine working with someone who just slips into conversation how they used to drive a Lamborghini when they were younger but had to switch to a Mercedes when their joints couldn’t handle it anymore? I bet she does that in the break room–”

“And I bet Lindsay knows just what to say to put her in her place,” said Clarice with a devilish grin. “And Reed’s face…”

“Yeah, there’s so much plastic in there that I think she could be recycled posthumously,” said Arjun. Clarice laughed loudly. He continued, “And man, it seriously gives me nightmares, the weird way her skin is all pulled back on her cheeks and forehead. I just picture her getting home and taking off her face like a mask…”

“I try not to picture her at all,” said Clarice. “But I get what you mean. It’s so creepy. Like… Uncanny Valley? Is that what they call it?”

Arjun nodded, flinching a little as a kid at the table next to theirs shrieked with a banshee-like laugh; he looked over and saw that her boyfriend was trying to take an unbecoming selfie of the two of them.

Turning his attention back to Clarice, he saw her eyeing half of his wrap. He pushed it towards her and said, “Yeah, it’s Uncanny Valley for sure.”

“Oh, please, I can’t–”

“Take the wrap!” insisted Arjun. “I’m not that hungry anyway. I stopped by the snack room after gym and grabbed a couple of cookies. It sucks having gym in the mornings. I feel like I’m just dirty for the whole rest of the day.”

“Well, you look good–” Clarice froze and went, if possible, an even deeper shade of red than before. She quickly added, “I mean, you look clean; you don’t look dirty, I–”

He chuckled. “I know what you mean.”

There was a playful glint in his eye that made Clarice happy. However, just as her face was beginning to express the happiness in a beaming, radiant smile, she caught herself and looked down. Unconsciously, a hand rose to her cheek and pinched it.

Arjun furrowed his brow. “Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” asked Clarice quietly, trying not to meet his eyes.

“You looked like you were smiling, and then you became all sad again. And then you pinched yourself, I–” he broke off, a little startled at the look he received in reply.

Clarice seemed desperately sad, distant; her eyes were wet with tears and her hand trembled with fear. Her eyebrows tilted upwards slightly to accentuate the meekness in her disposition, as though she was giving way to some greater force. All she said was, “It’s… it’s a long story, Arjun. I just… I have to be sure. You can see me?”

Taken aback, he easily replied, “Well, yeah. I mean you’re right in front of me. I’ve seen you in classes before. It’s hard not to notice the prettiest girl there.”

“You can really see me?” asked Clarice again, unable to stop the tears from falling heavily down her face, cutting saline tracks through otherwise clear skin.

“Yes,” said Arjun. “I’m not really in the habit of sitting around and talking to myself.”

She gave way to a fit of wet giggles interspersed by sobs. It was Arjun’s turn to be flummoxed, but he gave her a bunch of tissues to clear up her tears. Accepting them with grace, she said, “Thank you… thank you so much.”

“What the hell is going on?” asked Arjun. “Are you okay? Did I do something–”

“Y-you have no idea,” said Clarice, calming down a little. Her red-rimmed eyes gazed fondly into his. “It’s… it’s really gonna sound crazy if I explain things, though…”

Arjun cocked his head a little. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t say I’m not worried about you. Is everything okay? I don’t care if it sounds crazy, I just wanna know…”

She amused herself for a moment at her situation; was this really where it all would end? A cacophonous cafeteria where broccoli-haired kids jeered and laughed and taunted one another to no end? Where white cinder blocks formed a wall on one side and windows let in the tantalizing light of the free world on the other side? Where cafeteria workers daydreamed of their smoke breaks once these rowdy kids were back to class? Was it at this very bench? This slate-blue, hard bench? Arjun looked at her expectantly, and she took a deep breath.

“So, like I said, this is gonna sound crazy, but… I grew up outside of New Orleans for a while, we moved there when I was about five or six. I had a carefree childhood. My dad made good money, my sister was nice to me, and my mom was generally very nice. She let us explore maybe a bit too much on our own, as young as we were, but it was a safe town. Even the rundown parts were nice, kinda like this town.

“Well, one day I was walking in a park, and this lady’s sitting at a bench. She’s got a veil on in like 100 degree weather, so I don’t pay her too much attention, thinking she’s crazy or whatever. But then she calls out to me: ‘I’ll tell your fortune for a dollar.’ I turn to her and say that I don’t need my fortune told, but there was something about the crooning of her voice that drew me towards her. I sat down and she started telling me about my past. She said that we’d met before, her and I. She said that several years ago, I was in New Orleans with my family and I’d stepped on her foot when we were walking on the street. She called out to me, but I didn’t reply or apologize, I just kept walking.

“That was when she lifted the veil and I saw… I saw her shrivelled, decrepit face under there. Picture Reed’s face after like fifty years in the sun–” Clarice shuddered during her recollection and noted that Arjun was still clinging onto every one of her words. “She said in a shrill voice that I was cursed, that I would be cursed to walk this earth a ghost in parts unknown, invisible to all life, trapped within a place I could not escape and that only–”

She broke off. Arjun felt as though he had not breathed since she had begun talking. Every fiber of his being told him that she, against all odds, was speaking the truth. Had anyone else told him this–any of his friends from his old town or the fledgling friends he’d made here, he’d never have believed them. Yet Clarice, with her heavily-lidded, innocent eyes, with her candid tone… He knew she was not lying. He said, “Only what?”

She looked away from him and finished, “She said that only my true love would be able to see me.”

Now Arjun felt the heat rush to his face again. The buffalo chicken wrap in his stomach squirmed a little, but surprisingly… he settled into the idea with relative ease. Yes, the more he looked at Clarice, the more he considered her character, the more he realized that he was in love. It was stupid, he knew; barely one conversation had passed, and here he was thinking that this was his true love. Could he, or she, really be that stupid? Yet when they met, he had not felt like he was making a new acquaintance; rather, he felt that he was meeting someone he’d known for a long time, someone with whom his soul already shared a connection. He held out his wavering hand and she, her fingers shaking, took it. The spark that ensued assured him of what she was saying; it told him that, before his very eyes, sat the love of his life.

He could only manage hoarse words: “Y-you’ve been invisible for…”

“Four years,” said Clarice softly. “I woke up one day in this high school. I can leave the school, but if I try to leave the town… I just wind up walking back around to the school somehow. I’m cursed.”

“And you still attend classes?” asked Arjun.

Clarice shrugged. “I-I like to feel like the other kids, I guess.”

“Did… did the woman say how to break the curse?”

She smiled. “Isn’t it obvious? True love’s first kiss.”

Arjun leaned forward a little, as though driven by an external force, but then he said, “Wait! I know a better spot.”

Clarice followed him from the table. He made some excuse to the hall monitor about using the bathroom; she, of course, ran behind him unnoticed. A few minutes later, they were climbing a ladder. A trapdoor opened and Clarice breathed in the cool air of a spring afternoon. Arjun raised his arms triumphantly, and she said, “This is better.”

He smiled, taking her in his arms. She felt real to him, warm and tangible. He looked into those tearful hazel eyes and saw only kindness, love, and passion in them, and she saw only that within the depths of his deep brown irises. Placing a hand on her mid back, Arjun drew her close. Their lips met, and it felt like the gears of fate turned for them alone in that moment; two souls brought together in a scintillating union. They broke apart and Clarice felt that something had changed in the air; a warm breeze rose from the south.

They smiled at one another, wishing the moment could stretch out into eternity. They were going to kiss again when a voice shouted, “Hey! What the hell do you two think you’re doing up here?”

Clarice looked at Arjun with wide, sparkling eyes and began alternately laughing and sobbing, and he felt tears in his eyes too as he turned to face a furious looking hall monitor with only a bashful smile to defend himself.