Caged in Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

screen before I processed what she wrote me. Nausea
engulfed me, as I stuff my phone into my locker and rushed to
lunch.
    Our basement level school cafeteria was
somewhat unique. It was divided into four sections, which were then
divided into cliques.
    The first section was filled with the
stereotypical jocks and Cheerleader’s, but also had people who I
called the shadows . These were people who were notorious for
shadowing these groups and were tolerated, but not encouraged by
the actual group members.
    The second section was filled to the brim
with the norms , which were people who were literally the
definition of average. Usually they refused to stick to a single
clique, dangling between several.
    The third cafeteria was littered with the
smart crowd. These were not just typical geeks, but rather truly
intelligent individuals. The last cafeteria was the unlucky one.
Anyone in that section belonged in the invisible or obnoxious
category. They were either so mouse like that no one noticed them
or they belonged to the worse category filled with class clowns,
Goths, or Punks. While the great population shunned the people in
the last section, I found them to be the most worthy of
knowing.
    I walked through sections all four sections
and paused when I reached the doors that led to the quad. My best
friends were unquestionably section four students, but
rather than be persecuted by high school stereotypes; they choose
to ignore their status. We compromised with high school mentality
by claiming a picnic bench outside during the warmer months and
populated the library during winter.
    Our bench was a mint green metallic
monstrosity, but it was ours. During lunch, we were usually
surrounded by herds of people who claimed the benches nearby.
However, today I noticed that most of the benches were empty. I
figured this had something to do with the light mist that covered
the benches from the spring rain this morning.
    Willow and Izzy were seated on opposite
sides of the bench. This was usually the case since I was the
thread that tied them together. Izzy was the obnoxious borderline
Goth type, while Willow was the invisible moral type. They belonged
at opposite sides of the spectrum, but when the three of us were
together they glided from their opposing sides to merge in the
middle.
    Willow seemed distracted this morning, while
Izzy chatted uncontrollably. When I approached, a branch snapped
beneath my flats and caused them to turn. Willow looked up at me
and smiled. Most people couldn’t see Willows beauty because she
caved in on herself when around other people. However, when Willow
wasn’t afraid that people might be judging her, she had a natural
classic beauty.
    Willow held her smile a bit too long and I
noticed the strain behind her hazel eyes. Her chestnut brown hair
was casually thrown into a messy bun at her nape with random
strands falling around her heart shaped face.
    Willow never wore her hair up unless it was
arranged perfectly. She wasn’t the typical teen to concentrate on
what was fashionable, but instead kept to a durable look. I knew
something must be off about today; her hair was screaming it at me.
I made a silent promise to ask her later. Willow knew my silent
signals and quirked up the corner of her mouth. Willow had coupled
her messy look with a pair of loose fitting jeans and a shirt that
was at least a size too big on her.
    “Hey, S.” Willow’s voice was quiet and soft.
She was the embodiment of nature; quite, serene, and its beauty was
often overlooked. If there had been any noise other than a light
breeze on the nearby trees, I would not have heard her.
    I sat down next to Willow and directly
across from Izzy. Willow grabbed a lunch tray and pushed it towards
me. I glanced down at some Bosco sticks with marinara sauce and
garlic fries. Since Willow had a free period directly before lunch,
she could get to the lunch room before the absurdly long line took
over. Luckily, she knew exactly what to order