Heaven And Hell novel Chapter 10

With a grunt, I hefted my backpack over my right shoulder and filed out of the classroom with Viv to get ready for lunch. Mr. Logan instructed us to pick up our "baby" later and take it home so we could start caring for it.

He said each flour had a unique serial code at the bottom, so we really couldn't replace it if ever something happened to it.

As everyone went to their respective lockers and fled toward the lunchroom, we all split to head to our table. We didn't have those cliché cliques, but somehow, wherever Michael went, all the cool kids were there. And that included Viv and -- for some reason, me -- because Frederick insisted that we should eat with them.

Michael wasn't happy about that, and neither was I.

As I settled my books for the next class on our lunch table, I quickly went to the kitchen and placed an apron on my waist, tying my natural waves lazily with a hair band. The rich kids were all waiting to be served outside the kitchen, chattering about this and that.

Nothing could beat the decibel of a school lunch room.

I thought I was going to be deaf or something, but I ignored it with a concentrated look, heading to Viv's side with a cartload of food on a hot platter. I gave her her meal, then I circled around our table, giving everyone their food.

When I reached Michael, though, that was when everything started to go bad.

"Roast beef," I said blankly, placing the plateful of food in front of him. "Eat."

Michael raised a brow at me. "I thought you hated serving me?"

I rolled my eyes. "I got assigned to serve the food here. I had no choice, as you can see quite clearly, my lord," I muttered.

Somehow, Michael's eyes twinkled, but they hardened just as quickly. I saw his eyes fill with sarcasm at every turn, quietly asking, You think I'm your lord? Funny. Also, Frederick choked on his bottle of Crystal Geyser when I'd said what gad come out of my mouth.

Michael and Viv had to whack him on the back several times before he started breathing normally like a sane human being ought to breathe.

I looked at Frederick oddly, hands on my hips. "What was that all about?"

Frederick shook his head, wiping his mouth with a white linen. "The water. I drank too much," he choked, coughing again. Viv and everyone else -- except me and Michael -- looked at him with deep sympathy.

His cousin, on the other hand, was busy tapping on his phone, googling something (again, what was up with him and Google, anyway?)

"What are you googling about now?" I demanded. "That Happy Sacks Emporium thing again?"

Everyone stared at Michael curiously. He shrugged, uncaring. When he lifted his head to look at me, my face waiting impatiently, he said with a cheeky grin, "Why do you always want to know what I'm up to? I mean, it's not like you like me or anything...right?"

I scowled, twisting my face in disgust. "Ugh, gross! As if I'd like you in a million years, Cutting. I only asked because you always google stuff on your phone."

"Not really interesting," Frederick muttered, taking a swig of his Crystal Geyser. Some of the guys murmured their agreement -- while staring at Heather's watermelons.

Michael leaned toward Heather's side, making every girl at the table gape and glare at her. Heather fixed her position so that Michael could have better access to the view of her boobs, then she batted her lashes at him.

Michael's stare was on the magazine, unfortunately, not at her wonder things.

He began speaking in an exaggerated English accent. "Dowager Duchess of Rossington is staying at the Shangri-La Hotel in San Ricardo, California. She is here to visit her son, the 14th Duke of Rossington, for a one month stay.

"It is indeed a pleasure that a particular dowager duchess of Great Britain has come to the States. But why did she come here?

"England has it that she has come to sunny San Ricardo to, indeed, visit her son, but also to give charity of ￡100,000 to Talirano Orphanage. And...rumor has it that her grandson, the Marquess of Sterling, heir to the Rossington duchy, will be declared engaged to a certain lucky young woman -- who, you ask? No one knows yet! But we'll know soon enough! And blah, blah, blah."

Clearly, Michael was bored with what he had read. Frederick and the others laughed.

"Whoever this Sterling dude is," he went on, leaning back on his chair, "he's in deep shit."

"I don't think it's very easy being a marquess, whatever a marquess is," Heather said intelligently, twirling her red hair.