This is the ninth installment of the short story "Ink" by Steve Metcalf as it first appeared in the second Event collection "Iron Bay."
INK
Steve Metcalf
Chapter Eight
Naked Lunch
At some point during the night, Bren had kicked off her blankets and removed her sweatpants. Oddly enough, she had also taken the sock off her left foot and put it under her pillow. She would spend five minutes looking for it the next morning. Even though it was a chilly evening, she was soaked through with sweat and her long, dark hair was sopping wet.
She was reliving yet another horrible high school moment. This was one week before the event and one month before she forced her parents to let her change schools at the semester break.
Bren was sitting quietly at lunch, reading a book. Her tray of food was as yet untouched as she was focused on finishing this current chapter … a dog-eared copy of The Simarillion clutched tightly in her left hand.
All of a sudden, they walked into the cafeteria.
She focused even harder on her book. The four boys walked over to her, grinning. Over the last month, for some reason, they had decided to focus their attention on her. All four were seniors and she had given them no reason to direct their ire her way. It seemed like every week, she was the victim of yet another mean-spirited prank. Of late, their focus had become more sexual. Bren had yet to tell anyone, but her grades were starting to slip and she was becoming more sullen.
They formed a semi-circle behind her so she couldn’t stand up. One boy, she wasn’t even sure of his name, Nolan, maybe, cleared his throat.
“You forgot your sauce,” he said in a low voice.
She looked up at the four boys for the first time, pleading with her eyes.
“I have my,” she started and then stopped. They were all four out of breath and seemed oddly sweaty. The one who had spoken was holding a small Dixie waxed cardboard cup. He reached out and quickly poured the contents across the fish sticks and corn nibblets on her food tray.
It was liquid. White and slimy. The boy finished pouring it and set the cup down on the edge of her tray. One of the boys, the biggest, wiped his forehead and pushed his black hair back across his head in one smooth motion.
“I’m sure it won’t be your first taste,” he said and then laughed.
At that, all four boys turned and walked away without attracting any attention. In a moment of clarity, all of the clues came together and Bren realized what the white ooze was. She pushed the tray away from her and ran from the room, hand over her mouth in an attempt to stave off the vomit.
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