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MurderWeasel
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Somehow we drifted off too far...
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((Enter BB Gunnerson))

It was always a little hard for BB to come back to school after a break, not due to school seeming harder (it didn't) or being more onerous (it wasn't) but because time off let her abandon her routines and readjusting to them took a few days. She'd woken up this morning, for example, and realized that she'd failed to pack a lunch the night before, and upon investigating the refrigerator had discovered that there wasn't anything that was tasty, filling, and portable enough to bring to school. She was thus condemned to the dubious mercies of the Cochise High School cafeteria, since she wasn't looking to blow a chunk of her Christmas money and most of her lunch hour biking around town seeking something better.

She'd been out of the classroom quickly, luckily, and since her class before lunch wasn't far from the cafeteria and had unusually let out three minutes early, she made it before the line got too long. Her mind wandered as she acquired her Styrofoam tray and saw it filled with a square of floppy pepperoni pizza, a lump of mashed potatoes and gravy, a pile of corn, and a little plastic cup of peach slices in syrup. It would be great to get the band together for lunch, but that wouldn't be a sure bet at all given that she was hanging in the cafeteria and texting them all didn't seem seem worthwhile because she wasn't about to carry the foam tray through the halls. That meant she'd probably have to entertain herself. She had a little notebook with her, one she liked to jot ideas for the band into, but today her focus wasn't great and she doubted she'd cook up much of value.

At least she was able to claim a table. It was wholly empty, and while that wouldn't last, it meant she could pick a seat at it that didn't have any mysterious pools of half-evaporated liquid or smudges of graphite just waiting to stain whatever she set on them. She faced the window and every so often a car would pass by and she'd wonder where it was headed or, if it was a decently cool car, she would imagine being inside, maybe heading to Vegas to play a gig or maybe driving out to some nowhere stage deep in the desert to do the same, because that might even be a more fitting venue.

She was peripherally aware of the cafeteria filling up, and knew that even though she'd picked one of the tables furthest to the side she would likely soon have company. It was fine. She could use something more interesting than the cars outside and the lukewarm corn she slowly chewed.
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The First Mistake · Cafeteria