“Through here,” Trina said, pushing on one of the doors.
I gasped when I saw the room beyond. With its high vaulted ceiling, tall stained-glass windows, marble flooring, smooth mahogany tables and ornate wall carvings, it looked more like an Ivy League college dining hall than a high school cafeteria.
“This is the main part,” Trina said, gesturing around us. “And through there, there’s an espresso bar.”
She pointed to an archway on the right, which led into what appeared to be a modern coffee shop.
“Oh my god,” I said breathlessly. “This is amazing.”
“I know, right? The food is great. Healthy, too, for the most part. Plus it’s all free.”
“Wow.”
“That side is where the freshmen and sophomores sit, and this side is for the juniors and seniors,” she said, pointing again.
The place was packed with students. “Why is it so busy this early in the morning?” I asked.
“Mostly because of the espresso bar,” Trina replied. “They make better coffee than any of the places in town, so most of the students get here early to grab some and hang out before class.”
“Oh, right.”
“I’m telling you, they make the best iced mochas. They have a ton of cream and choc sprinkles on top, and I swear, I gain five pounds every time I have one,” she said with a grin. “I’d offer to get you one, but it’s probably too cold today. Is regular coffee okay?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“Okay. Be back in a minute.”
She left me to look around the cafeteria while she went to grab the drinks. I took a deep breath and tried my best to look relaxed.
It was obvious that nearly every student in this cavernous room hailed from riches and privilege. It was evident in the way they carried themselves, and the air of confidence surrounding the majority of them. They weren’t wearing golden crowns on their heads, but they might as well do exactly that. They were young American royalty.
A few of them glanced at me as I stood and waited for Trina. Most of them looked friendly, or at least neutral. Only a couple gave me stony-faced looks, but I figured they were just acting like that because they had no idea who I was.
“Here you go,” Trina said, returning with two coffees. She held one out to me.
I took a quick sip. “Wow, this is good.”
She beamed. “Told you. Anyway, got any questions so far?”
I swept my gaze around the massive room with all its bustling activity. “What’s RFA like in terms of cliques?” I asked. “At my old school, it was pretty stereotypical. One table in the cafeteria would be all football guys and cheerleaders, another would be for the arty kids, another would be for the stoner kids, and… well, you get the gist.”
Trina chewed on her bottom lip for a second. “Hm… I guess it’s a bit different here,” she said. “There are definitely different friend groups, and different tiers of popularity, but they aren’t really based around sports or academics. Or drug use.” She cast her eyes around the room. “If you’re worried about getting hassled, don’t be. I’ll look out for you. If anyone tries to give you crap, I’ll tell them to fuck all the way off.”
“Thanks.” I tilted my chin to one side. “Ms. Flores said bullying isn’t really a problem for scholarship students. Is that right?”
“Yeah, but you’re pretty. Like, super pretty. Some of the bitchy girls in the more popular groups might see you as a threat or something.”
I felt myself blushing to my roots. “Thanks for saying that. No one has ever called me ‘super pretty’ before,” I murmured. “Except my mom.”
Trina rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. They totally have. Don’t be one of those annoying overly-modest girls.”
“No, really. I mean, I know I’m not a bridge troll, but look at those girls!” I said, nodding toward a table on our left.
The chairs were filled with some of the most gorgeous girls I’d ever seen. They were clearly the school’s ‘It’ girls. The pretty, popular ones who got all the attention and all the boys.
“Let me guess, you think they’re the bitchy ones I mentioned before?” Trina said, arching an eyebrow.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But going by what most of the pretty girls at my old school were like, I’m going to assume… yes?”