And that's when the conversation leads back to Cas.

"Who's this?" Topher asks. "He can't be a friend, because big bad Salem never wever pways with fwiends."

Topher is probably the reason why.

"I'm a new student."

"I've gathered that much. Eyes are keen observational tools," Topher notes. By this point in time, the three boys are standing in the cafeteria, deciding where to sit. It's loud and full, and the perfect environment for Salem to lose his cool. He doesn't like people, and he doesn't like noise. He also doesn't like broccoli, but that's for different, unrelated reasons.

"I'm Cas."

"Ah, you have a name! How exciting for you! So what did you do to get on Say's good side?" he asks. The boys sit at an empty table in the corner, the most private place around; though, when you have the new student by you, people will stare and see what the fuss is about. When they see that Caspian Ayrell is the most average person alive, they'll go back to their cult rituals and oh, so precious hierarchy. Typical teenagers.

"I did nothing that abnormal," Cas answers truthfully.

"Yeah, that's not true," Topher says, looking through today's school menu. Cas has never been to a school where they deliver the food to you. There are dressed busboys and everything. Rich kids are spoiled.

"Should I get the ravioli or the spinach Alfredo?" Topher asks, thoughtfully. As far as he's concerned, he said his part on the previous topic.

"Spinach?"Cas wrinkles his nose in disgust. Last time he checked, he didn't eat rabbit food. "Ravioli. Get the ravioli."

Topper makes a noise of approval, "What are you getting?"

"Coffee," Cas answers. He didn't even open the menu farther than the beverages display.

"I meant, what are you eating? Coffee and..."

"Coffee."

"What a lovely display of variety."

"I appreciate you noticing."

The busboy comes over to there table with a coffee pot. When he comes to fill his mug, Cas looks him in the eye and says, "Leave it."

And that's how Cas ends up with a full coffee pot. If he didn't feel so left out already, he'd skip the mug and chug it as is. When has a middle man ever been convenient? Instead, he fills his mug and takes a swig. Calm and civilized.

Ha!

"Newbie's a drug addict?" Topher asks.

Cas glares at him then shrugs, "Just don't tell my parents."

"Your parents don't know of their wayward son's horrendous actions?" Topher fake gasps. "Scandalous. Tell me, how does it feel living a double life?"

It feels like your brain is in the middle of civil war and your thoughts are the tragic casualties. It feels like everything about you is a secret, even when it's not. It feels like you're lying to everyone you care about, and if you finally come up with the nerve to tell the truth, you're paralyzed with the fear of them never accepting you again. It feels like you aren't living correctly, like you're doing it wrong.

But that's too deep for people that don't know him, so Cas just shrugs again, "Pretty cool. I'd recommend trying it sometime."

"So, Cas-the-new-kid, what made you come here, to our flawless land of education?"

Salem scoffs and picks at the egg in front of him. He only ordered one egg, hard-boiled. He's been stabbing it since it came. If he wanted it scrambled, all he had to do was ask.

"I got a scholarship."

For the first time, Salem stops stabbing the baby chick embryo and gives Cas a look of suspicion. "You got a scholarship."

"Yes, that's what I said."

"How did you get a scholarship? No offense, but you don't look all that smart."

Cas looks down at himself. His tie is crooked and hair unruly, but he's wearing the same thing as everyone else, so the statement throws him off a tad.

"I'm not," Cas answers.

"Okay, so how do you have a scholarship?"

"Salem, stop interrogating him. Maybe he doesn't want to tell you all his secrets," Topher interjects. "Maybe he's a spy for the Guild, trying to find out the mindset of the new generation."

Cas takes a drink of his coffee, whether because he really wants to or just because he wants an excuse to not say anything, he hasn't decided. It doesn't matter, Salem and Topher are in an avid bickering match, and Cas doesn't think they remember he's here.

That's fine.

Cas sighs, holding his chin up with his hand. He scans the room, filled with loud, talented teens with living parents and expensive phones and probably don't even know what it feels like to receive a check twice a month after working day in and day out to support their family.

Spoiled.

Spoiled.

Spoiled.

A movement in the corner of his periphery catches Cas' eye. Ash is standing by a table in the middle of the cafeteria. There's a different atmosphere over there; everyone is cooler, more posh, more attractive. It's a popular group, and Ash is the bullseye. He's the king.

For what? What has he done to deserve the loyalty and respect of the entire student body? Looked handsome? Act cool? Be rich? Speak in honey-sweet words and poetry? Anyone can do that. Well, not everyone, Cas would probably look like a complete idiot if he acted like Sebastian Velenetene. That's because Ash acts like an idiot.

The unfair part?

He looks really cool when he's doing it.

What's his deal, anyway? Acting like a demonic, feline-worshiping, beady-eyed creature in the dorm room; in public, he acts like a prince. He's smiling, but the smile never reaches his eyes.

I guess that's the only thing Cas can relate to. The hurt eyes and the pretty smile. He can almost see Ash as human.