Seneca Rebel

THERE WAS NO sign of Reba at our usual meet-up spot when I got off the acoustic carrier on Monday morning, en route to first session. I was starting to think something was up. Was he mad at me for something I’d said or done? For a guy, he was pretty darn emotional.

After my first couple of sessions, it was time for lunch so I hit the monster of all meal halls. Pristinely white with long stainless steel tables and chairs, everything was perfectly symmetrical. The ceilings were about sixty feet high and lined in grids of tubes through which food was delivered. You ordered and it popped up directly on the table in front of your seat, and it was removed the same way.

I went to the table where I’d had lunch with Reba almost every day so far. He wasn’t there. I walked up and down the aisles of tables hoping I would find him somewhere, but I couldn’t spot him anywhere. I was starting to get to know who the cliques were at S.E.R.C. In this one way, at least, S.E.R.C. was just like my school back home in LA.

“Looking for someone?”

I spun around. Reba was there, sitting at a table with his back to me. He was eating a tuna fish sandwich on a French roll. There was a peanut butter cookie on his tray. It’s what he had every single day.

“Hey, Reebs. I’ve been wondering where you’ve been.”

“I’ve been around.”

I eyed the seat next to him. “May I?”

“Please.”

I knew by the tone of his voice that there was something going on. His usual peppy inflections were uncharacteristically subdued. He didn’t even bother to look at me.

I took my flexer out and connected it to the port on the end of the meal tube. I placed my order for a cheese quesadilla with spicy salsa on the side.

“How was Great Falls?”

I hadn’t even seen him since I’d earned the opportunity to go there. He must have heard through the grapevine. I guess the gossip mill is another similarity, between Seneca and my old school. So this was about the fact that I had invited Dom and not him. I definitely didn’t want to rub it in that it had been unbelievably awesome, that I’d had the time of my life. That it had been a day undoubtedly I’d never, ever forget. “It was okay.”

“You really expect me to believe that?”

“Are you mad at me? Because if you are, just tell me.”

“Not at all. Why would I be mad?”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly.”

My quesadilla arrived. We ate in silence. He was clearly mad, and he shouldn’t have been, but for some reason I still felt guilty.

I didn’t want his feelings to be hurt.

A deep voice boomed from behind me. “Doro from LA.”

I twisted around in my seat to see G.W. Wallingsford. His arm was draped around an emerald-eyed brunette who managed to emit a high sense of fashion even though she was decked out in the same blue outfits as the rest of us. On his other side posed a beefcakey guy with dimples and a faux hawk.

“This is my girl, Brittany, and my boy, Mikey. Brittany, Mikey– Doro from LA.” Brittany bent down and kissed my cheek, cooing, “Hey. I love LA.”

“Thanks, me, too. This is my friend, Reba. He’s from Texas via Puerto Rico.”

“What up, man?” G.W. put his forearm up to bump Reba’s. Reba pepped up, “Nice to meet you all.”

Mikey eyed Reba’s peanut butter cookie. “You gonna eat that?”

Reba handed it to him. “I can order another one.”

“Sweet, thanks bro.”

G.W. elbowed Mikey. “Come on, man, you just ate.”

“Yeah, but not a peanut butter cookie.”

Mikey inhaled the cookie as we all watched. G.W. shook his head, then put his hand on my shoulder. “Listen, Doro from LA, Brittany’s parents are headed to South America for two weeks. She and her sister are going to have the place to themselves, and this Friday night we’re going to throw down hardcore. LA style.

You should come. Both of you.”

Brittany nodded in agreement. “For sure.”

“Most definitely, we’d love to.”

“How will we get there?” Reba was hesitant. I have no idea why.

“Don’t worry, Puerto Rico. I got you covered, my man.”

G.W. bent down to my level and tapped on a sleek black headband that was holding his abundant blond hair back. It was his flexer. I pulled mine from the meal port and put it to G.W.’s. My life was no longer my life. I was definitely living someone else’s. Even Reba watched in amazement.

“Y’all kids enjoy your grub. I’ll flex you with the transpo deets Friday, Doro from LA. Just remember, mums the word on this jam. The only people that need to hear about it need to hear about it from the right place. Know what I’m sayin’?”

“Of course.”

Reba motioned that his lips were sealed. G.W. threw him a fist bump. The three said their goodbyes and then strolled off, turning heads all the way down the meal hall like a row of falling dominos. It irked me that their connections allowed them to traverse between Seneca and the Aboves, but I kept it to myself. If Reba felt the same way, I couldn’t tell, because he acted as if it was nothing. He didn’t even seem interested in the party. “You sure you want to go? You don’t seem so into the idea,” I asked.

“Yep. It’s nice of them to extend the invitation.”

He didn’t seem sure at all. Like something other than the Domin-the-Aboves thing was bothering him. I wanted things to feel right again. “It’ll be fun. I’m glad that we’re going to a party together.”

The corners of his lips tilted up. There was a smile breaking through. The freeze was over, thank goodness.