Author's Note: Yes, I am making all the teachers characters from the show as they are on the show. Hence Wainwright looking not much older than them and Christina Frye being old enough to be their art teacher. I like to fiddle. :P
Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist and would not be foolish enough to claim to.
Jane looked at the food before him questioningly. Was it edible? Cautiously, he poked it. Who on earth would eat something like this? He was used to fried food dipped in batter, greasy hamburgers, curled fries, or other brightly wrapped foodstuffs left over from a day of entertainment. Unhealthy, yes, but at least that fact was disguised from the obvious by bright colors and it was certainly not... whatever this thing was. The sign had said it was some kind of meat.
It was gray.
Still, he had wanted new experiences. He supposed this was what he got for being curious about high school. Carefully, and with much trepidation, he took a bite. For all that it looked disgusting, it didn't taste that bad. Kind of like wax.
For a wild moment, he wondered if it was made from plastic.
As the thought tumbled through his head, he looked up and around at his surroundings again, still trying to take in the roiling chaos that was the school cafeteria. The hum of a hundred different conversations happening at once resonated in the background, along with some loud laughter, the clatter of silverware, trays and the movement of human bodies. It was one of the most fascinating things he had ever seen and he looked on with undisguised glee.
His peers had almost subconsciously divided into little groups, each with a somewhat similar dress, age, and conduct code. Their interactions and divisions seemed wholly motivated by the people around them. Jane had taken his time scoping out the scene before he had sat down in an unoccupied corner, trying to spot familiar faces that he had seen earlier in the day to anchor himself. He told himself he wasn't looking for anyone in particular.
She wasn't here anyway.
Either way, finding out which groups his classmates fit into might help provide a window into their motivations even outside said groups. There was the jock, Rigsby, from his first period off in the far right corner with his other football mates. He was talking animatedly with a girl Jane had seen in his second period, with long straight brown hair pulled back from her face by a headband. The red-head, Van Pelt, sat off to the side of the male jocks with other girls that were dressed not unlike the boys. She was probably the member of some kind of sports team. The curly dark-blonde who had sat in front of him was seated razor straight in a group of people who looked like cross-words were their cup of tea.
Jane did a little double-take as his roving eyes caught a newly arrived student added to the mix. Off to the side, seated all by himself, was the same boy from this morning who had almost knocked Jane on his face. The kid was wolfing down his food like it was going to disappear soon, keeping his head down and his eyes averted from anyone elses.
What was it with kids in this school and eye-contact? He had never encountered so many people so reluctant to add that level of trust to the people in their surroundings. There was something else about this boy however. The furtive looks, the food hording, the isolation- it all seemed to add up, but to what, Jane really couldn't tell yet.
On an unconscious whim, Jane grabbed up his food and made a beeline for the kids table.
"Mind if I sit here?"
Those blue-green eyes glanced up at his face, just barely avoiding his eyes by a few millimeters. "Whatever." He shrugged.
"Name's Jane." Jane introduced himself as he took a seat, using his last name almost out of habit.
"Jane? Isn't that a girl's name?"
Jane shrugged. "Patrick Jane, but I prefer my last name most days. What about you?"
The kid hesitated for a second too long, but eventually looked back at his food and mumbled. "James."
"Nice to meet you, James." Jane tried for extra cheerfulness and the kid responded by unhitching his shoulders just a hair more.
"You're new?"
"Just rolled into town. My dad found work." Well, of a sort anyway.
James nodded in an offhand way.
The loud noise of someone dropping their tray made them both whip around, but Jane was the first to recover. Which was why when he sat back, he was able to see a large bruise on the side of James' neck, stretching along his collar bone to disappear into his shirt. The pieces fell into place and Jane crinkled his nose a little.
Abuse.
Though, there was no way to tell what kind. Perhaps the kid had a problem with bullies.
Turning back around, James gave him a half-grin and he copied it instinctively so that the kid wouldn't feel ill at ease or know what he'd seen. They chatted harmlessly for the rest of the lunch hour, Jane avoiding any possibly sore subjects as tactfully as he could. The kid was nice, in a clumsy sort of way, once you got past the initial defensiveness. When it was time for classes again, they bade each other goodbye and headed their separate ways.
It was only once he was alone again that Jane began to wonder if he had just made his first friend at school.
