About twenty minutes into the dinner, I'm glad to have remained unseen.
Okay, well not COMPLETELY unseen. It's disgusting, the number of men I have caught staring at me. I really want to throw up.
It's been a comfort to have Indy across the table right in front of me, though.
I occasionally cast glances at him, just to reassure myself that I'm not completely alone.
The first dish was some kind of chicken thing. Now we're on the soup.
Great.
It's called minestrone, and I'm very afraid to try it.
I dip my spoon uncertainly into the soup, clicking my heels together uncomfortably.
Indy leans forward and whispers, "It's not poison."
I glare at him and just to prove I'm not afraid, I put the spoon in my mouth.
And burn my tongue.
I nearly die in my effort to keep from screaming out loud.
I chug down my water glass and leave the stupid bowl of soup alone for the rest of the meal. Instead I begin to pick at the soup crackers for a while to divert my attention.
The dinner has so far has been boring and uneventful. My thoughts are clearly apparent on my face as I draw patterns in the table cloth with my fork. The professors (my father and Oxley included) are talking at the end of the table.
Suddenly, something (or someone?) brushes my foot. My head snaps up and I scan the table, looking for the culprit. Only two men are staring at me, and they are all the way at the end. I turn back to my soup crackers and eat them one by one with my shrimp fork.
It happens again, the gentlest of nudges on my foot.
This time, I don't even look up. I nudge the foot back right back, because it's remaining on my foot.
Indy's head snaps up and HE scans the table, looking at everyone's faces.
Oops.
I nudge the foot again and he nudges back.
It's not until I nearly have to kick him in the shin that Indy realizes its me.
"Can I help you with something, Marion?" He asks, looking questionably at my forked soup crackers.
"You were nudging so I nudged back." I state quietly, not wanting to draw attention.
"Oh, I thought it was the table leg or something. Sorry." He mutters, going back to his meal.
I go back to mine, nudging his foot just one more time.