by Jodie Kobe
The large entrance door to the lunch room is jammed with people when we reach it. There is a large line waiting to get their food.
Fox pushes through the crowd blocking the doorway and waits for a few seconds for me and Rian to catch up. As I try to squeeze through the crowd, a few people elbow me. Rian and Fox manage to get deeper into the crowd than I do.
“Excuse me,” I say. My voice comes out weak and quiet. I clear my throat and keep moving, shooting out a few apologies to let people know I want to pass.
I finally detach myself from the crowd and step into an open space. I breathe easier.
Rian and Fox stand by me and I jump, startled. I did not notice them earlier.
“Should we cut to the middle of the line?” Fox yells over the noise. He says this as if he cuts people in line every day.
“No,” Rian answers him.
“Well, we should be allowed to since we're special.” He looks around for (I’m guessing) the end of the line. When he spots it, a disappointing frown appears on his face. The line of people winds around the whole room, and I think this line is the longest one I've seen so far.
“We’re not special,” I say. “We’re just regular people. Just be patient.”
“Yeah, but the line decreases so slowly!” Fox exclaims, taking large steps toward the end of the line. Rian and I follow him.
Instead of reaching the end of the line, Fox slips in between people somewhere halfway down. The girl we have cut in front of gives all three of us dirty looks. She doesn’t say anything and neither do we.
