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.⋆♱ PANDORA'S ECHO⠀,64Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr1aUJwAVcA
006. a seat at the lunch table64Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡthHQQM3Kn4
As the teacher reminds them of their quiz next Tuesday, Naomi is busy trying to find the perfect time to talk to August. The bell for third period rings, and the room empties in the usual slow tide of chatter and shuffling feet.
She taps his shoulder gently, waiting for his usual gaze. He shakes his black strands out of his face and stares blankly — which Naomi takes as permission enough.
"Hey, I was wondering what you usually do for lunch?" Naomi questions him.
"I don't normally," August answers bluntly.
"...Well, when you do eat lunch, where are you? I don't see you."
"In the library."
Naomi stares at him for a moment before continuing, "You haven't made a single friend?"
He sighs softly, "I don't need friends."
"Yeah, not today, that mysterious act can only get you so far. You're gonna be sitting with me and my friends."
He stares for a moment, his confusion settling in. She can feel it, but she doesn't react. "You're not actually giving me a choice."
"Nope," she shakes her head. "So, I'll see you later, 'kay?"
Something close to a breath escapes him — not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. Naomi takes that as a yes and goes to her next class.
She beelines to sit at the back of the classroom, her chin resting in her palm, as her teacher babbles on about today's history lesson. Constant sighs fly from her, wishing she could fast-forward the clock to lunch.
Naomi isn't sure why she's bothered to make this a thing. He's quiet, he's strange, and her friends are for sure going to have something to say about it. Still, the image of him walking down the hall with blood on his lip, completely unbothered, keeps stirring inside of her chest. She can't explain it neatly.
The bell finally rings. Naomi is out of her seat before the echo dies.
She glances around the halls, looking for the boy, spotting him about to make a turn for the library. Naomi jogs to August and grabs his wrist just enough to avert his attention, "C'mon."
Something in his posture shifts, almost imperceptibly, but he falls into step with her nonetheless.
The cafeteria hits them with the usual cluster of noise and the smell of skeptical food. They head to the line and grab their trays.
"Over here," Naomi redirects him to their usual table, where everyone is already gathered.
Naomi sets her purse and tray down, "Okay, so—"
"Finally, you're here," Ashanti dramatically interrupts her.
"Yep, hi to you too, Shanti." Naomi steps aside slightly, gesturing toward August. "This is August. You guys know him, he's the new kid. He's eating with us today."
Everyone pauses.
Clover's eyes drift over to him, offering a polite smile. Dominic lifts his head slightly before giving a curt head nod. Ashanti wordlessly takes notice of him before returning to her phone.
Just like his cousin, Reis doesn't say anything to the newcomer, but his eyes move — from August, to Naomi, and back to August.
Naomi finally takes a seat, waiting for August to follow, but looks up to find him still rigidly standing. Standing at the edge of the bench like he's waiting for someone to rescind the invitation. "August, you can sit down," Naomi laughs softly at his awkwardness.
He slowly takes a seat, and Jay takes this moment to lean forward with a grin of someone who has been waiting for an opening. His eyes shift between Naomi and August, "Oh, so you're doing charity work now?" He gestures loosely at August. "Respect, man. Brave of you to let her adopt you."
Naomi immediately snaps her head toward Jay, her voice flat, "Jay."
"What? I'm being nice—" His voice immediately gets higher as he tries to defend himself.
"You're really not." She holds his gaze for exactly one beat, then turns back to her food.
Jay closes his mouth, rolls his lip ring between his teeth, and decides to let it go, "I'm so misunderstood in this house."
August says nothing through any of this. He sets his tray down and sits very still, the way he always does. But his eyes are moving.
"So, what's up?" Ashanti asks suddenly, still not fully looking up. "Like, where'd you transfer from?"
"You probably wouldn't know it." He clears his throat, "Not close." Ashanti hums, tapping through her screen. It isn't hostile — it's Ashanti. August seems to notice her specific demeanor, because he doesn't stiffen.
"You like it here?" Clover asks, genuinely, and tilts her head. Her voice is soft but direct.
"Not really." He responds almost immediately.
Cove nods like that's a perfectly reasonable thing to say. "It gets better. Kind of."
"Kind of," Jay echoes solemnly, placing a hand over his heart.
"You're so dramatic," Clover tells him.
"That's two people who've said that to me today, I'm keeping score."
Naomi breathes out through her nose, half a laugh. She's reaching for her drink when she notices August watching her. The slight angle of his head, the way his eyes settle and don't move on.
She glances at him, and August looks away, back to his tray.
"I meant to tell you guys. That gallery reached out. They want to do a little showcase, including four new pieces. It'll be in October." Naomi tries to keep the smile out of her voice and mostly fails.
"Wait, for real?" Cove turns toward her, eyes widening. "I'm so making you a dress."
"That's not a lot of time," Dominic says, frowning lightly.
"I know. I'm not even stressing about it yet, I'm just—" she exhales, tapping her fingers on the table. "I don't know, I want to do something different. Not just portraits."
"Then do something different," Reis says firmly. Low and simple, like the answer is obvious.
Naomi glances at him. He's looking at his food. "Yeah," she says quietly. "Working on it."
"Four pieces, though," Jay interjects, shaking his head. "You better sleep."
"Y'all know she ain't got no sleep schedule," Ashanti scoffs playfully.
"I sleep," Naomi protests.
"Name a time."
"I—" she pauses.
The table tips into noise again —Jay and Ashanti going back and forth, Cove laughing into her sleeve, Dominic telling someone to lower their voice.
August has gone very still, watching — the way her expression opens when she talks about it, the slight brightness she can't quite contain.
Just watching Naomi. Never once looking away.
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