Chapter 1 – Delusions in Cereal

Be nice, be nice, be nice.

The stench of leftovers, the occasional screech of cheap cutlery against plates, and the incessant chatter between adolescents – the mindless kind, filled the residential centre’s cafeteria. The school’s extremely poor choice of a residential trip destination (a hostel hidden in endlessly rolling hills that were 45 minutes from the nearest town) was indescribably frustrating, but it paled in comparison to the mountain of annoyance obnoxiously smirking as he walked backwards, teasing me.

“Juniper, are you really going to ignore me this entire week?”

I smiled sweetly. Yes, that’s the plan, Rowan. I had decided that the best course of action for not getting in trouble again was to completely ignore the very source of it. And so, I shuffled forward wordlessly in the breakfast queue, approaching the head of the long table.

Rowan got there first, reaching for the crate of cereal bowls, “Would you like one?”

Oh, that’s surprisingly kind of him. My fingertips reached out for the bowl he stretched towards me.

He retracted his arm, “That’s too bad, this one’s for me.” He stacked the bowl under the one he already had. For goodness sake, why does he need two bowls?

Patience is a virtue, June, patience is a virt-

“You haven’t spoken to me today at all,” he quipped.

I wonder why. I nearly snapped then, a cutting comment at the tip of my tongue, but Cassie nudges me, alerting me to the fact that the Headmaster just entered the cafeteria. I winced as my mind flashes to the conversation that took place shortly after we arrived yesterday evening.
---
A few paces from the coach, he had chosen truly the worst location to take us aside for a “friendly reminder”, because every student who alighted the coach would glance nosily over at us huddled under the willow tree. The tree was actually quite pretty to behold – maybe the only thing worthy of the title here – and it would have been easy to stand there and admire it, if it weren’t for the entirety of my year trying to eavesdrop on our conversation. I attempted to distract myself from the sheer embarrassment by guessing what line Mr Farthings would say next.

“Juniper, Rowan, I understand that it can be extremely competitive between you two, since you are the two School Captains, and your respective grades are consistently at the top of your year.”

But you represent the best of the school.

“But it is because you are the School Captains, that you represent the very best of the school.”

We have a zero tolerance bullying policy.

“You may think that the teachers cannot hear your bickering all the way here, but I can assure you the entire coach can, and I won’t stand for your insults and I will continue to uphold our zero tolerance bullying policy.”

Don’t make me administer punishments.

“If you both continue to act this way, you will face repercussions. Do you understand?”

Face repercussions? I was so clo-

“Yes, Mr Farthings, my behaviour was truly uncalled for. Consider this the uttermost heartfelt and sincerest apology from me,” Rowan offered.

Uttermost heartfelt and sincerest apology? From Rowan?

I snorted, earning me a sharp look of disdain from Mr Farthings. I quickly disguised my slip of composure with a cough, “I apologise, I’m recovering from a cold. I understand – it won’t happen again.”

“I truly hope so. Captains, please do try and get along – the residential trip is meant to be an enjoyable, bonding experience.”
---
“I’m just focused on getting breakfast, Rowan”, I forced out courteously.

Here, Rowan bent his knees to lower himself slightly, angling his head from across the table in an attempt to meet my eyes, “I don’t see how your insistence on getting breakfast has anything to do with the fact that you haven’t made eye contact with me today.”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him then and instead, continued to move down my side of the table towards the cereal, “I don’t have the faintest clue of what you’re talking about.”

I reached for the box of Frosties and he reached for the carton of milk.

“I can’t believe you’re the type of weirdo who pours cereal before milk”, he taunted.

A tolerant smile stretched my lips as I focused on pouring my cereal as slowly as I possibly could so I didn’t have to stand there waiting for Rowan’s milk carton.

My attempts were fruitless, however, because he poured the milk even more sluggishly, and he kept pouring.

And pouring.

And pouring.

And pouring.

Until milk filled his bowl to the brim.

He unscrewed the next carton, it’s the last one, and he takes a mug from the tray next to him, and he began to pour milk insufferably slowly, his eyes watching my expression.

He turned to the boy who’s behind him in the queue, “Hey man, you’ll want some of this for your cereal right?”

“Yeah, man… yup, that’s enough, hey, dude, DUDE, STOP.”

I could feel the anger simmering underneath the surface, ready to boil over. He wants to you to get in trouble, he wants you to get told off again, he wants you-

He picked up his mug, downed all of its contents in one go, then poured the last of the carton into his mug.

Every.

Last.

Drop.

My eyes finally flashed to his, and my patience snapped.

“ROWAN, HOW DARE YOU. YOU ABSOLUTE DETESTABLE WRETCH OF MENACE – I’VE BEEN PATIENTLY ENDURING BEING IN LINE BEHIND YOU FOR THE PAST TWENTY MINUTES. TWENTY WHOLE MINUTES AND YOU DEPRIVE ME OF THE ONLY REASON I’M IN THIS LINE FOR? YOU CLEARLY SAW ME WAITING FOR THE MILK, AND YOU FILL YOUR BOWL TO THE BRIM, YOU FILL THE BOWL OF THE PERSON BEHIND YOU, AND YOU FILL YOUR OWN MUG TWICE – TWICE!! – WITHOUT EVEN LEAVING A DROP FOR ME?!

“AND FOR THE RECORD, HAVING CEREAL BEFORE MILK IS THE ONLY CORRECT WAY OF DOING IT OR ELSE YOU’LL HAVE TOO MUCH MILK AND GET THE MILK TO CEREAL RATIO WRONG. SO DON’T CALL ME A WEIRDO WHEN YOU’RE THE EPITOME OF A TEXTBOOK PSYCHOPATH FOR HAVING MILK BEFORE CEREAL!”

This is when I realised that the entire cafeteria had gone silent – with no scratching of cutlery against plates, no lively chatter, just 180 pairs of eyes and the Headmaster, oh God, the Headmaster, staring at us. In very simple words, I wanted to die.

Rowan leaned forward, his smirk becoming impossibly more insufferable, and almost sang my own words back at me in the same sugar-coated tone I’ve been speaking with all morning:

“I don’t have the faintest clue of what you’re talking about.”

(edited 1 month ago)

Reply 1

august_gilmore

It took all of me then, to not plunge my hand into my bowl and throw a fistful of cereal in his arrogant, unbearable face.

Cassie closed a hand on my elbow, “Leave June alone, Rowan.”

“Impossible”, he grinned.

Relief flooded my senses as chatter began to resume in the cafeteria, though I imagined they’re only talking about me and Rowan. My fury hasn’t subsided completely though, and I decided to commit the frustration into aggressively buttering some toast as we moved down the rest of the table – thankfully, in silence.

At the end of the table, Rowan feigned being unable to reach the jam on my side of the table, and refusing to pass it to him, I sensed his presence round the end of the table to stand next to me.

He lowered his mouth to my ear as he unscrewed the jar, “For the record, Juniper, I don’t have milk before cereal. I just know you don’t and I wanted to use the milk before you did.”

I shot an irritated look at him, before he winked and sashayed away to the table with his friends.

I took my bowl of very dry, very milk-less cereal and a plate of brutally shredded toast to my table of friends before Cassie settled down next to me.

“Can you believe the guy?”, I started, “He’s going to my hamartia someday, he probably already is considering he’s probably going to get my school captainship revoked by Mr Farthings.”

Elsie comforted me – or at least attempted to do so, “Hopefully, it won’t be that bad – maybe he didn’t hear you.”

Scarlett laughed helpfully, “No, he definitely did.”

I groaned in frustration, my head clasped in annoyance in my hands, “I actually can’t believe someone as insufferable as him hasn’t died out by natural selection.”

Cassie offered, “To be fair, natural selection is quite a long process, it’d take generations for the species of intolerable men to die out completely.”

I giggled despite myself, “Well, I hope no one reproduces with him so his intolerable genes can’t be passed on to make more intolerable, little children.”

“I’d reproduce with him”, Scarlett added.

“What?”, I laughed, the image of Scarlett-and-Rowan little children running around and screaming seeming more like something you would see in a comedy show.

“That’s foul, Scarlett”, Cassie reprimanded.

Scarlett explained, “Okay, maybe not me – but definitely other girls in our year. Just look at him - despite the intolerable genes, he has lots of good-looking genes that are more than enough to make him a good candidate for reproduction and passing on genes or whatever.”

Elsie, “He’s smart too. June, he out-scored you on the Chemistry Cambridge Challenge last week.”

Yes, by two marks. I turned around to glance at him now though – Elsie and Scarlett weren’t wrong. Rowan is – somewhat – a good candidate for heredity, or whatever we said he was. Tall, broad-shouldered, thick hair that glinted in the sunlight, a wiry physique that made him first in almost every track and field sport, dimples that framed a smirk that was almost permanently glued to his face and piercing eyes that seemed to pin you in position.

I shook the thought of him away as we laughed about how ridiculous every boy in our year is, until the doom of Mr Farthing’s repercussions for me seemed a lot less impending. Yet, somehow, the conversation returned to Rowan.

Cassie commented, “Well, it’s too bad for Angelina that the only girl Rowan pays any mind to is June. It must be hard for her – the only guy in the year who doesn’t fall prey to her ridiculous antics.”

Scarlett batted her eyelashes dramatically then, and tilted her head upwards mockingly to some imaginary pitiable guy, “I’m sorry – I’m so stupid, and you’re so smart, I don’t understand this question. Could you answer it for me please, and the rest of my mechanics homework?”

We all laughed at her impression, because as mean as it was, we’d all bore witness to this exact scenario countless times.

Elsie sighed, “It’s a shame you don’t find him attractive, June, you and Rowan would make such a handsome couple.”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t find him attractive. I mean, I see why other people might. But, ugh, when I think about the ridiculous smirk of his when he turns around to tell me that he scored better than me on a test, or when he beats me by half a second on the 100m race, I don’t understand why he can’t just let it be and he has to gloat in my face. And, just look at how he acted today, he was such a jerk. It’s all his fault that I could potentially not be school captain any more because he just has to drive me up a wall…”

I ranted on and on, completely oblivious to my friends calling out my name and sending horrified looks behind me, until the warmth of someone’s presence seeps through my clothing, and the heat of someone’s breath tickled my ear.

“Juniper Everly, did you just say I was attractive?”

I whirled around to face…