Read Online Chasing Wishes by Nadia Simonenko - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nadia Simonenko
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shirt and khaki shorts stands up at the next table and shouts over to Isaac, interrupting me. "Hey, bro! We saved you a seat over here!"
Isaac ignores him, pulls out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and tosses one onto my tray.
iv>
"So anyway," he says, "we were just discussing the bologna beast and how—"
"Dude, if you feed a stray it’s gonna keep coming back for more," interrupts the asshole at the next table, and his band of likeminded idiots erupt into laughter and start coming up with even more delightful comments about me.
I pretend I can't hear them, but Isaac's jaw tightens and his green eyes grow dark and fierce as he listens to their slurs. He looks so angry that for a second, I'm afraid that he's going to start a scene right here in the cafeteria. If there's one thing I don't want, it's to be center of attention. All that does is get me into trouble.
I distract Isaac by handing him back his cookie, but he flicks it back to me with his fingers as if he's playing a game of air hockey. I try to push it back to his side of the table, but he shakes his head and presses it firmly down onto my tray.
"Come on – you can't just eat that little scoop of... whatever that shit is."
I lift the fork to my mouth and pretend to enjoy it. If I pretend for long enough that the stroganoff's awesome, eventually I'll like it. Normal people enjoy their food.
That's because normal people get to eat real food, though. The normal students have salads and sandwiches for lunch, and later tonight, they'll have amazing dinners like what I used to have when I was little—plates with bread rolls, gravy and potatoes, maybe even turkey. I'm the only girl in this entire school who has to decide between eating rubbery stroganoff now or saving it for dinner.
"Thanks, but I'm okay," I tell Isaac as I slide the cookie back across the table one last time, but I can already feel my resolve weakening. I haven't had chocolate in such a long time and it's so tempting compared to this awful crap on my plate.
He picks up the unclaimed cookie, drops it on my tray and then sits back with a smug grin on his face.
"Cookie's all yours," he says. "No givebacks."
He must be planning something. I'm certain that he's only pretending to like me... but if it's an act, he's putting a hell of a lot of effort into it.
I stubbornly ignore the cookie and instead poke at my floppy, unappetizing stroganoff. I’m not going to let him trick me so easily. I'm not going to let him hurt me the way everyone else tries—I'm not going to fall for those amazing green eyes or that little half-smile he's making. I'm not going to let the way he makes butterflies flutter around my stomach fool me into trusting him.
My stroganoff defies my efforts to spear it on my fork and taunts me from the plate as I stare angrily down at it. I'm not even in control of my own fucking lunch at this school.
The stroganoff is so unappetizing that it's almost not worth the effort to eat it. I know beggars can't be choosers, but there are times when I really wish we could be. My noodles win the staring contest, and when I back look up at Isaac, he's chewing contentedly on one of his cookies. A stray chocolate chip drops to the table in between us. God, it looks so delicious! I can't believe that I'm seriously considering eating his leftover cookie crumbs after he leaves.
"I didn't poison it if that's what you're wondering," he says, giving me a hurt look. "I was just trying to share my snack, Nina. Relax."
No, I'm not going to relax. Nobody sits with me at lunch. Nobody shares delicious looking, home-baked chocolate chip cookies. Khip width="Most of all, nobody is nice to me here.
Nobody except him. He's been nice to me since the day I arrived.
I suddenly feel guilty, but the guilt quickly gives way to suspicion again. I have every right to be wary of him after all the crap I've put up with in this
Isaac ignores him, pulls out a bag of chocolate chip cookies and tosses one onto my tray.
iv>
"So anyway," he says, "we were just discussing the bologna beast and how—"
"Dude, if you feed a stray it’s gonna keep coming back for more," interrupts the asshole at the next table, and his band of likeminded idiots erupt into laughter and start coming up with even more delightful comments about me.
I pretend I can't hear them, but Isaac's jaw tightens and his green eyes grow dark and fierce as he listens to their slurs. He looks so angry that for a second, I'm afraid that he's going to start a scene right here in the cafeteria. If there's one thing I don't want, it's to be center of attention. All that does is get me into trouble.
I distract Isaac by handing him back his cookie, but he flicks it back to me with his fingers as if he's playing a game of air hockey. I try to push it back to his side of the table, but he shakes his head and presses it firmly down onto my tray.
"Come on – you can't just eat that little scoop of... whatever that shit is."
I lift the fork to my mouth and pretend to enjoy it. If I pretend for long enough that the stroganoff's awesome, eventually I'll like it. Normal people enjoy their food.
That's because normal people get to eat real food, though. The normal students have salads and sandwiches for lunch, and later tonight, they'll have amazing dinners like what I used to have when I was little—plates with bread rolls, gravy and potatoes, maybe even turkey. I'm the only girl in this entire school who has to decide between eating rubbery stroganoff now or saving it for dinner.
"Thanks, but I'm okay," I tell Isaac as I slide the cookie back across the table one last time, but I can already feel my resolve weakening. I haven't had chocolate in such a long time and it's so tempting compared to this awful crap on my plate.
He picks up the unclaimed cookie, drops it on my tray and then sits back with a smug grin on his face.
"Cookie's all yours," he says. "No givebacks."
He must be planning something. I'm certain that he's only pretending to like me... but if it's an act, he's putting a hell of a lot of effort into it.
I stubbornly ignore the cookie and instead poke at my floppy, unappetizing stroganoff. I’m not going to let him trick me so easily. I'm not going to let him hurt me the way everyone else tries—I'm not going to fall for those amazing green eyes or that little half-smile he's making. I'm not going to let the way he makes butterflies flutter around my stomach fool me into trusting him.
My stroganoff defies my efforts to spear it on my fork and taunts me from the plate as I stare angrily down at it. I'm not even in control of my own fucking lunch at this school.
The stroganoff is so unappetizing that it's almost not worth the effort to eat it. I know beggars can't be choosers, but there are times when I really wish we could be. My noodles win the staring contest, and when I back look up at Isaac, he's chewing contentedly on one of his cookies. A stray chocolate chip drops to the table in between us. God, it looks so delicious! I can't believe that I'm seriously considering eating his leftover cookie crumbs after he leaves.
"I didn't poison it if that's what you're wondering," he says, giving me a hurt look. "I was just trying to share my snack, Nina. Relax."
No, I'm not going to relax. Nobody sits with me at lunch. Nobody shares delicious looking, home-baked chocolate chip cookies. Khip width="Most of all, nobody is nice to me here.
Nobody except him. He's been nice to me since the day I arrived.
I suddenly feel guilty, but the guilt quickly gives way to suspicion again. I have every right to be wary of him after all the crap I've put up with in this
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