Jude was checking his hair in the reflection of his cup. He glanced over at Cici sitting across from him.
“It tastes better than it looks,” Jude reassured her. “I ate this all the time as a kid.”
“Oh, okay,” Cici said. She picked up her spoon and took a tiny bite.
“I wonder what happened to all that fancy food at the beach?” Jalen asked wistfully.
Marlowe’s stomach audibly grumbled at the mention.
“Unfortunately, the meats sat out in the sun too long,” Wadsworth reported, answering a question but not the bigger one. Who had provided the fancy food on the beach? And why didn’t they have more of that food now, instead of franks and beans?
Warix snorted that ugly laugh again. “Someone’s a professional troll. Gotta hand it to them.”
“Stop saying that!” Shelley said. “It’s like you’re trying to scare us.” She pushed her red hair back forcefully, her jaw clenched.
Warix took another bite of beans and talked around it. “Well, it’s true. So what you gonna do? Stars got any advice?”
Shelley opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, looking away.
Plum felt bad for the astrologist. No doubt it wasn’t the first time Shelley had been mocked for her beliefs. Why did men, specifically at the moment Warix, feel the need to belittle her?
It’s not like Shelley’s account was any less important to her followers than his account was to his followers. It wasn’t like playing video games was somehow more noble than writing poems about stars and what they might mean.
They ate, or more accurately some of them ate, and others didn’t or just nibbled. Brittlyn wasn’t eating at all, more focused on the rapidly emptying wine decanter at her elbow. Sean ate like a man deployed in the field, head down, spoon rapidly scooping food into his mouth.
Sofia returned with one of her meal-replacement bars.
Marlowe and Plum ate their bowls of franks and beans. Food was food, and it had been a long time since lunch.
Jude ate his meal with transparent enjoyment, his happy expression falling only slightly when he scraped the bottom of his plastic bowl.
“This is the weirdest festival I’ve ever been to.” Jalen pulled his slice of cheesecake to the center of his placemat. “Tell the truth: How many of you are planning to leave first thing tomorrow?”
Marlowe leaned over to Plum, murmuring softly, “What do you say? We probably should go with the others. It’s getting weirder and weirder.”
Plum had to suppress a shiver, at Marlowe’s breath or her nearness; the effect was the same. Her heart flip-flopped. She could feel herself blushing and gave a completely fake cough to cover for her blush. “Definitely, we should go,” she said.
Plum turned and met Sofia’s eyes. Plum asked her friend’s opinion about leaving with a quirk of her own eyebrows.
Sofia gave a small, decisive nod of agreement.
Plum inclined her head back. It sucked that the whole endeavor had been so disappointing, but there was no point sticking around hoping for it to get better.
Around the table everyone nodded or murmured their assent that, yes, they would all be leaving the next day.
“Ugh, what a waste,” Cici groaned. “I was going to do some great posts from the fest. I thought I’d be able to do some beach and festival makeovers, or that I’d meet body artists here, maybe even make some connections for styling.” Cici heaved a sigh at all the possibilities that weren’t going to happen.
“That buffet at the beach was a whole other level, though.” Warix let the beans fall from his spoon, plopping unappetizing chunks into his bowl.
“It’s almost like . . .” Plum began, then shook her head.
“Like what?” Jude asked.
“Almost like the buffet was to make sure we stayed.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as they pondered that possibility.