The Renascent Effect by Carryn W. Kerr

Author:Carryn W. Kerr [Kerr, Carryn W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: YA Dystopian Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group
Published: 2021-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Few lingered in the cafeteria when we returned—Blake, Ivan, Caleb and the boys who’d overpowered us on the mountain path. Although Caleb was on another round of sandwiches, he chewed mechanically while resting an elbow on the table, head in hand.

Only a scattering of lettuce leaves remained on the counter-top sandwich platter, and the juice urn stood empty.

Noticing my gaze, Dan chortled. “No matter. The chef will whip up a few in a minute.” Then he called to the kitchen.

Caleb looked up, got to his feet and pushed his chair back.

“No, you don’t, young man. You’ll stay right here.” Dan leveled on the chess pieces. “You two can get back to school.” Dan amplified his voice and slowly rotated, addressing the entire cafeteria. “That goes for you lot, too. Lunch is over. Clear off.”

In an instant, chairs scraped across the stone flooring and the people shuffled out. Blake and Ivan observed us, their lips in flat lines as they shifted from side to side.

I eased their tension. “So, who’s Blake and who’s Ivan? Let me guess. Black hair for Blake and Ivory hair for Iv—”

As if they weren’t confusing enough, their cackles cut me off. The dark-haired boy spoke. “The other way around.”

I had to force myself not to laugh. “Well, Ivan and Blake, this is Liam, Jonas and I’m Cassidy. Thanks for hauling our luggage to our rooms.”

They both shrugged while Ivan seemed to swell “No problem.” With that, they spun and raced from the cafeteria.

A moment later the chef burst from the kitchen like a bubble popping from a blower. He held a jug of juice in one hand and a smaller platter of sandwiches in the other.

Dan waved him over. “You can bring those right over here. Thanks, Chef.”

Jonas groaned. “Did you know they do the same at Graham’s refuge, then? I mean, they call their own chef, too!”

Dan squeezed his forehead into an obviously faked frown and winked. “Ah-h well. In our case, that’s his proper name.” He chuckled at his attempt at humor.

Caleb reacted entirely differently. He wheeled on Jonas. The frown lines between his brow penetrated with such intensity they looked permanent. “You knew that? And you didn’t think to mention it?”

Not expecting Jonas to defend himself, I flared. “Excuse us for not thinking clearly about how we’d evade the judgment and death you were so desperate to impart.”

Caleb slumped to his seat, his brows down and pulling together.

At the center of the table, Chef placed the sandwiches and pitcher. A minute later he came back with three glasses, plates and sets of cutlery. When Chef lifted Caleb’s empty plate, Caleb reacted with lightning speed. Between vise-like fingers, he clamped the plate. “I’m not done.”

Clearly used to Caleb, Chef shrugged, folded his arms and took a step back.

Dan gestured at the table. “Well, I’m pretty sure you have a lot to talk about, so I’ll leave you lot to it.” Then he left the cafeteria.

Honestly, I wanted to talk to Caleb—to understand him.

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