I got a glass of water then followed him to the dining tables, intending to eat beside him and strike up a conversation. As he sat down, however, I jerked to a stop. I looked at the empty seat across from him, then back at Jones. Taking a deep breath, I bent my knees to sit. A split second later, I popped upright and stayed there, frozen with indecision.

Finally, he looked up. “What’s your problem, Cobane?”

“At the Schoolhouse, the several Houses of the Kongo must become one, united in purpose,” I quoted.

He took a bite of food and eyed me. “So?”

“So, we’re not allowed to sit here. We sit by class to force mingling. That way, the students from each House won’t just stick together.” I saw he wasn’t listening. I huffed. “You know, you’ll have to make some effort if you want to fit in here.”

He took a bite of apple. “What, like you?”

“I fit in as much as I want to!”

He shrugged, “So do I.”

I picked up my spoon and we ate in silence for a while—me, standing up.

Eventually, he spoke around a large bite. “Do you know that girl?”

I nodded, balancing a spoon of carrots as I reached for a wedge of potato. “I know both of them; they’re a few years behind me in school.” I faltered, remembering he, too, was a senior. “I mean us, they’re behind us in school.”

“Not the students,” he said. “The one serving—the worker.”

I followed his gaze. “Oh, you mean Windy.”

“Is that her name—Windy?”

“Yes, I think so.” I waited for him to continue. He finished his apple in a few gigantic bites and stood to leave.

I started. “But—supper isn’t over.”

He gave me a dry look and picked up his tray. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, I sprang into action.

I caught up with him halfway to the second floor. “Why did you want to know her name?”

He picked up his pace.

“Hey.”

He took the steps three at a time. I trotted after him, like a dog annoying his heels.

“Hey—did you hear me?” I knew he had. “Hey, Vine Keeper!” I barked summarily, forgetting my assignment.

He glanced down at me. “I thought supper wasn’t over.”

“Why did you want her name?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because she’s my friend, and if you’re going to complain about her, I’d like to warn her first.” It was a lie, but I told it well. This was just the sort of suspicious activity Jones wanted to know about. If I got her information tonight, I could spend the rest of the weekend in the library.

He turned right, toward the male sleeping quarters, where I wasn’t allowed.