The cafeteria was packed, more than usual. Monica snaked her way through the tables desperate for an empty seat. Yet every time she spotted an opening, it was claimed before she even took a step.
The fallout was faster than she imagined.
Monica finally found a lone table tucked beneath the far stairwell. She sat and unloaded her lunch tray, ignoring both the disapproving stares from her classmates and that sinking feeling in her gut.
The administration had asked, and she told: the truth. And if that meant spending the rest of the year eating lunch alone.
So be it.
The Weekday One Hundred 