“A salad? It’s lasagna day and you’re having a salad?”

Laurel looked over at a girl with curly brown hair who had a full tray of school lunch in front of her.

David spoke up quickly, cutting off any response Laurel might have attempted. “Laurel’s vegan — she’s very strict.”

The girl glanced down at the small peach half with one raised eyebrow. “Looks more than vegan to me. Don’t vegans eat, like, bread?”

Laurel’s smile was tight. “Some.”

David rolled his eyes. “This person interrogating you is Chelsea, by the way. Hi, Chelse.”

“You look like you’re on some kind of mega-diet,” Chelsea said, ignoring David’s greeting.

“Not really. This is just the kind of food I like.”

Laurel watched Chelsea’s eyes return to her salad and could sense more questions about to erupt. It was probably better to just spill than answer the twenty questions. “My digestive system doesn’t handle normal food very well,” she said. “Anything except plain fruits and vegetables makes me sick.”

“That’s weird. Who can live on just green stuff? Have you seen a doctor about this? Because—”

“Chelsea?” David’s voice was pointed but quiet. Laurel doubted anyone else at the table had even heard.

Chelsea’s gray eyes widened a little. “Oh, sorry.” She smiled, and when she did, it lit up her whole face. Laurel found herself smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you,” Chelsea said. Then she turned to her meal and didn’t even look at Laurel’s food again.

Lunch break was only twenty-eight minutes long — short by anyone’s standards — but today it seemed to drag on endlessly. The cafeteria was fairly small and voices bounced off the walls like Ping-Pong balls, assaulting her ears. She felt like everyone was shouting at her all at once. Several of David’s friends attempted to draw her into their conversations, but Laurel couldn’t concentrate when the temperature in the room seemed to be rising by the minute. She couldn’t understand why no one else noticed.