She meets his eyes again and he smiles softly. She doesn't like his smile, it is a smile that holds no sincerity but all the formality he must have practiced for diplomats. In other words it is fake.

"Did you want to play?" He asks with a furrow of his brows that feign impatience.

She simply hands the football to him with a small shake of her head. "No." Her voice is stern yet quiet as she turns to walk away.

He rarley ever spoke to her, even though they had multiple classes together since middle school. They never had any reasons to speak to one another unless it was direly needed. He is something of a socialite while she is an honor roll, scholarship student who only knows the life of school and home.

She glides across the quad to the lunch room where she can already see the lunch line growing. Even with the huge line she is not deterred from her goal to buy herself an unnecessarily expensive meal. Although when she remembers she was accepted into one of the most prominent high schools on the east coast, and if not the world, she understood that an expensive lunch is nothing to her peers.

Buying the newest hover car is nothing but chump change to these spoiled brats.

Even though she has never purchased a meal in all her academic life, today she was going to buy lunch. She had always skipped the meal and waited until dinner in the evening. On occasion she even skipped breakfast to get to school early. The only reason why today was different was because the younger girls from the girls home noticed she never packed a lunch box nor did her school give her food since she received an incredibly high scholarship. So that morning, after New Years, they had gathered all the money they could find and gave it to her telling her she should eat lunch.

She pats the coins and dollar bills within her plaid skirt pocket. She was almost surprised they found enough money to buy a meal even though they thought it was enough for ten.

She glances down at her deteriorating satchel and throws it open as she looks for a canvas bound book. After five seconds she retrieves the book A Thousand Leagues under the Sea that she had to read for her English class. She leans against the white painted wall, the skylight dome above her head allowing dim light through. She reads the fine delicate papers and the inky black letters that cover it's beige surface. The buzz of people's voices fall into the distant background as she slowly reads every crafted sentence.

Read a page, shuffle forward, read a page, shuffle forward. She falls into a soothing rhythm.

"It's your turn." The person behind her mumbles annoyed.

She shuts her book, nods softly to the person behind her and shuffles across the long table of freshly made meals she had to carefully choose in fear of exceeding her budget.

Once she approaches the end of the line and pays for her food she thoughtfully carries her white plate through the lunchroom crowds and out the back door of the cafeteria. She watches as the automatic glass doors slides open allowing the bitter January air into the warm cafeteria.

With brisk steps she passes the threshold and heads to the classrooms across from the cafeteria.

Most classrooms are all connected to prevent students from going outside, especially when it snowed but Everton High is an architecturally special school in the way that it is reminiscent of being a hybrid of both an indoor and outdoor school. Here at Everton there are beautiful red bricked buildings modeled off of late Georgian architecture there is seven buildings to be exact. Four each on a corner of the quad holding a dozen or so classrooms. A large building in the front modeled off of Houghton Hall which is the main office, a building behind that which is the lunch room, an art building behind the freshmen building, a gym behind the gym and a building in the farthest back of the school this is the building that is least visited. The library.

 Many students complained about the school having such a peculiar layout but according to the staff if they try to connect all the buildings it would create a fire hazard.

One will assume that a school as rich as hers can easily afford the remodeling but who knows, maybe it really is a fire hazard.

She directs her attention to her left and approaches one of the buildings on the corner. It's the north building which houses most of the freshman classes. 

While many complained about having to walk through the cold Solaforma didn't care, she had in fact liked walking through the campus, especially when it snowed. During gentle snowfalls the school always made sure to turn on their state of the art ground heaters that made the white cement a strange warm.

She ignores her thoughts as she approaches the glass door of the building. It slides open once she is within two feet of it's threshold it leads into a sterile wooden hall full of a dozen glass doors that lead to a dozen different classrooms.

She confidently strolls down the hardwood floor, realizing that the hall smelled faintly of fresh paper. Once again strange for such an upper class school that only uses holo-tab but she ignores the scent and turns to the first open door on her right. A certain history teacher always keeps his class open for students during lunch. She has never conversated with him except for freshman year when she took his class. 

Despite her lack of relation to the teacher she enjoys how his classroom is a typically quiet place to eat with the exception of the occasional groups of harmless students that are always on their holotabs.

"Solaforma." The teacher greets her from across the room.

A group of students looks toward her doing little to hide their utter disgust. She ignores them and gives the teacher a small nod before strolling to one of the dark wooden desk to eat her food.

When she was a freshman she used to stare at the mahogany red desks and matching chairs of this classroom with little emotions. She still remembers how she was one of the few students who didn't have a holotab . She thought back to the first time this teacher had talked to her.

"That is exactly how notes should be." He said one day as she sat in the class during lunch.

She had looked up from her history notes not quite understanding what he meant. "Excuse me?" She asked.

"Your notes are handwritten with pristine penmanship on paper. Now I know holotabs are what the other students use, and I don't have a problem with that since it saves trees but I appreciate that a student still hand writes their notes."

Solaforma looked at her papers with a new perspective as she tilted her head. "The movement," She paused, aware that her mental buffering surprised the teacher who believed she was as exact as a metronome. "It helps me retain the information." She said with confidence.

She chases the memory away as she takes one final bite of her overpriced chicken sandwich. She hastily picks up her napkin and glances at the clock over the teacher's desk. She still has twenty-five minutes until her next class. She swiftly wipes her mouth making sure no mayo remained on the corner of her lips.

Grabbing her satchel in one hand she stands up while collecting the plate in the other.

"Leaving already?" The teacher asks with a kind smile.

Solaforma simply nods before rushing out the open door, the pleasant sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood following after her. She glances to the door she had entered the building through then swivels her eyes to the other end of the hall where a glass sliding door opens and closes to students that paid her no attention.

She places her heavy plate above a trash can knowing a janitor would pick it up as quickly as she had placed it down. She then glides down the hall straightening her plaid red and black uniform skirt that reaches just below her knees as she passes the many classroom doors. She exits through the sliding doors to the side of the school where few people pass by paying her no attention.

With a bit more bravado she hurries down the sidewalk that is lined with large evergreen trees. They loom over her like unforgiving guardians. She is heading toward the back side of the school where the library is hidden away.