“Am I alright? I really think I’m in trouble.”

Petey x Maya Folick, Haircut

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The canteen was busy. There were separate tables, all with carts at the bottom but there were three lines that spanned at least a half of the room. Most of the boys were just chatting, barely noticing the influx of students. Only a few looked over as I helped Geraldt. They were greeted with a grimace from him and promptly resumed their own little trek. I felt his arm tighten around me, pulling me closer against his side.

“Careful, some of these kids like new meat,” he whispered in my ear. Again, his bloody implications were starting to annoy me.

“What do you mean?” I demanded silently, inching him over until we were both waiting in line.

“Why are you caught up in details? Basic point is some of these lads might see you as easy bait for initiations and whatnot,” he explained tiredly, waving his hand to emphasize the dismissive tone in his voice. I only nodded, resting him gently against one table while we waited for the line to move.

“Plus, you’re under the care of myself and Blaze. Unless they want to get in shit, they’ll do well to stay away.”

“You make it sound like a turf war.”

His glare confirmed that it was, indeed, akin to a turf war. He gestured for me to sit next to him and so I did, jumping slightly when his arm snaked around my waist.

“Right, so there’s four main groups you wanna keep an eye on,” he whispered practically against my ear.

“There’s ‘The Cult’. They ain’t really a cult but they’re called that because it’s made of the prefects and heads. Basically, unless you’re one of those pom’ous types, you ain’t in. They manage the school, you get in good with them and you’re practically set.”

I nodded, accepting his explanation.

“Then there’s the rich kids, an’ their peddlers. They got the ability to get stuff for you, so long as you know who to ask, but always check with the peddlers, don’t go up to them straight.”

He turned to look at another group of boys that was sitting around a table already.

“They’re the ‘rockies’, the jock kids and the gym babies. They work with the peddlers because you can always get yourself something good from the outside if you ain’t got the cash on you. You either give it back to the rich kids through work or trade, then finally is us.”

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“Us?”

’You, me and some of the others - outliers. We ain’t rich, we ain’t big and we ain’t one of the others. We just sit around and handle affairs on our own. Blaze could’ve been a part of ‘the Cult’ but he decided ’gainst it since they were a little too focused on themselves.”

“Do we do anything?”

“We do anything we need too. Samson does homework for the other kids, might look like an idiot but he’s actually smart,” he said, leaning back against the table, “when he wants to be.”

I had only really came to terms with his arm wrapped around me, and was just starting to get comfortable. He chuckled a bit when he felt my body slacken against his but the line moved and the small silence was broken when we needed to get up and go get the food.

After a good five or so minutes, we had our food and were ushered over to a table by an expectant Samson. Dan and Blaze were busy talking, not noticing when we came to sit down. Samson inched over on his seat, but did so further when Geraldt came to sit next to me. He rested his elbows on the table, a breach of etiquette, as he ate.

Samson had a vegetarian meal. Blaze and Dan’s were notably filled with meat. It was then that I actually decided to look down at my own plate.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to eat it, but it almost felt like I was unable. I don’t know how to describe it but it was something I had struggled with for a while. It was like knowing that you’re hungry, but every forkful seemed like too much. The feeling was there but the drive wasn’t. I couldn’t deny that the dish made me anxious. It felt like a monster of its own right.

“You ’right?”

I snapped out of my reverie to see Geraldt looking over, concerned. His bushy brows came together over his eyes and you could genuinely see that he was curious, not just nice.

“Yeah, I’m just not feeling hungry.”

“The size?”

I couldn’t really admit it. I didn’t even know about it myself, so I just shrugged. Nodding slowly, Geraldt took the dish from me and began cutting it up. I heard Samson shift next to me:

“Anorexia, a term used to refer to changes in appetite, not to be confused with Anorexia Nervosa which is the mental form of it. Restricting food, however, can also be a form of maladaptive coping.”

He said it without taking a breath, like a giddy child talking about his favourite show. Geraldt let out a soft grunt before pushing the plate back to me, the meat cut up into smaller pieces. He lifted one on a fork.

“Just one, for me?”

I wanted to, Hell knows how badly I wanted to for his sake but I couldn’t. There was a part of me that was in resistance, furiously striking against my head, punishing me for something I haven’t even done. I felt Geraldt’s hand on my thigh in an attempt to comfort me. Even then, the realization that I was shaking was on the periphery. I let out a shaky sigh and opened my mouth, letting him put the food in.

It was that resistance again, it didn’t feel like I could swallow. My thoughts turned to images of choking on the meat, or some form of sickness from eating it. His hand was on my back, and I could just hear his voice on the outside.

“It’s okay, don’t push yourself.”

I had to else I’d be stuck in this cycle.

’Come on,′ I urged myself,‘stop being a wimp.’

I swallowed it, nearly choking as though it would’ve gotten stuck in my throat by force of will alone. I heard Samson’s voice on the edge of my mind, some word of approval or another. Geraldt’s hand was still on my back, comforting me despite the feeling of nausea and fear that shook my body. I felt helpless, guilty even. I didn’t want this.