Chapter 3: Lunch Table Divide

Freshman first week continues as Ben wrestles with courage, spilled chocolate milk, and the girl he can’t stop watching.

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Ben weaved between the crowded tables of the cafeteria with his Big Cookie and chocolate milk carton. It had been almost a week since school started, and the three of them, Ben, Trev, and Greg, were still pretending they hadn’t already given up on finding the “perfect” Lunch B table.

They’d tried sitting by the windows on Tuesday, but the band kids had commandeered that zone with loud inside jokes and drumstick tapping. On Wednesday, they ended up sharing a table with a group of sophomore nerds who made bizarre noises while they ate. The spot was great, but Trev could barely touch his lunch with all the loud chewing and slurping going on. Thursday, they gave up entirely and sat outside near the gym, only to be driven back in by a stray football and a sarcastic “Nice catch, freshman” from a senior player.

Now it was Friday, and without even discussing it, their feet took them back to the table near the vending machines.

“Like returning to the scene of the crime,” Trev muttered, sliding his tray onto the table with a theatrical sigh. “The sweet scent of Kit Kats and broken dreams.”

Greg chuckled. “At least it’s consistent.”

Ben didn’t say much. He liked this spot, not for the vending machines or the neutral territory, but because from here, he could see almost the entire cafeteria including, most importantly, the table where she sat.

Mel and her crew, Britt, Jen, and sometimes Lisa, held court a few tables over in the sunlit area of the room. It wasn’t the “coolest” table, but it was close. Mel sat near the edge, facing just enough toward the rest of the cafeteria that Ben could occasionally catch a glimpse of her smile or the way she twirled a piece of dark hair when she was thinking.

Today she wore her jean jacket over a white tee and jean skirt, her hair pulled back but loose enough to fall over one shoulder. She laughed at something Jen said and bumped her arm against Britt, who grinned and rolled her eyes. It was a small moment, but her laugh hit Ben like a bassline. He was mesmerized.

“Dude,” Trev said, nudging him with his elbow. “You’re staring again. She’s gonna start charging you rent.”

Ben blinked and looked down at his carton of milk. “Just looking around.”

Greg smirked. “Right. Looking around one specific table.”

Ben gave a small shrug, but his ears turned pink.

Trev leaned back. “You need to make a move before someone else does, man. This is high school. It’s basically musical chairs with hormones.”

Ben broke off a piece of his cookie and mumbled, “Timing’s gotta be right.”

From across the cafeteria, Mel laughed again. Ben looked up, just in time to see her glance in his direction.

And for a second, it almost felt like she was looking for him too.

But then the doubt crept in. Maybe she was looking past him, or at someone else entirely. Ben glanced away before she could catch his eye, chewing the rest of his cookie like it might give him answers.

Ben set his chocolate milk down just a little too hard.

The carton tipped, rocked, and then- splash! A stream ran across the table and pooled beneath Trev’s tray. Not a disaster, but enough to make Todd and his girlfriend look from the other end of the table.

“Nice,” Trev said, pulling back his tray to avoid the tide.

“Sorry man, my bad.”

Ben grabbed a single napkin and tried to mop it up, but it dissolved almost instantly into a damp wad.

“I’ll get more,” he muttered, standing.

Ben picked his way across the cafeteria, weaving between tables. He could’ve looped wide, taken the long way, but his feet pulled him on the shorter path, right past the middle tables. Right past Mel.

She was facing mostly forward, talking to Jen, but Ben could see the faint curve of her smile as she listened. Her hands moved when she spoke, expressive and alive. He always noticed her hands. She laughed then, eyes lighting up and in that same moment, she looked up.

Saw him.

For a second, everything felt like it had been planned. The noise of the cafeteria dulled. The fluorescent lights faded to a hum. It was just him and her, locked across a few feet and a hundred unsaid things.

Mel smiled, small but sure. She didn’t look away.

Ben’s chest tightened. This is it, he thought. Say something. Just say—

Then Britt’s voice crashed through the moment.

“Oh my god, stop! Lisa’s brother actually said that? Ew! He’s so gross.”

She smacked Mel’s arm for emphasis. Mel jolted slightly, startled, and the smile faltered before she could stop it. Instinct took over. She laughed along with Britt, turning reflexively toward the table, the spell broken.

Ben’s next step faltered, like a skipped beat in a song. The air left his chest in a quiet rush, and he pivoted mid-stride, angling toward the counter with the napkins.

Mel glanced back quickly, but he was already past her.

She watched the side of his face as he pulled napkins from the dispenser. One, two, three… each slower than the last, like he was trying to stretch out the moment. He didn’t look up.

Ben stood there for a few seconds longer than he needed to, hands now full of crumpled napkins, before finally turning around.

As he walked back, he became painfully aware of his own body. Was he walking weird? Too fast? Too stiff? Was his chest puffed out like some try-hard gym rat? He had no idea.

He kept his eyes on his table, but every step felt like it echoed.

Neither of them said a word. But Ben knew deep down that he’d missed something. And he wasn’t sure if it would come around again.

“Dude,” Trev said the second Ben sat back down. “That was brutal.”

Ben frowned. “What was?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the part where you almost said something to Mel and then executed a perfect right turn to the napkin station?”

Greg didn’t even look up from working the tab off of his Cherokee Red can. “Trev’s right. You looked like you were about to walk onto a battlefield and then realized you forgot your sword and armor.”

Ben let out a quiet breath and dropped the handful of crumpled napkins onto his tray. “What? I needed napkins. I spilled my milk.”

“You spilled your chance, man,” Trev said, grinning. “She looked at you. Like, actually looked.”

“Yeah, and then Britt jumped in like she was guarding a palace gate.”

Greg nodded slowly. “I saw that. She always does that when someone else starts getting the attention.”

“She body-blocked you,” Trev added. “Straight-up intercepted the vibe.”

Ben didn’t respond. He was still replaying it in his head. The way Mel had smiled at him, like she meant it. Like maybe she’d been hoping he’d walk over. That flicker of a moment before Britt’s voice shattered it. He’d felt it. He knew it wasn’t in his imagination.

And still, he’d veered off. Chickened out.

“I was gonna say something,” he said finally, quieter than he meant to.

Trev leaned forward, dropping his voice just enough. “Then why didn’t you?”

Ben shrugged. “Timing was off.”

Greg tilted his head. “You sure it was timing? Or nerves?”

Ben didn’t answer right away.

“Both,” he admitted. “It’s just… I don’t want it to be some random moment. I want it to be right.”

Trev rolled his eyes, but not unkindly. “Dude, this isn’t Some Kind Of Wonderful. There’s no perfect moment. You just make the moment.”

Greg nodded. “Besides, she looked back after. You didn’t see it, but she did.”

Ben looked up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Greg said. “Not just a glance either. Like she was hoping you’d still say something.”

That landed like a weight in Ben’s chest. Hopeful and guilty all at once.

Trev gave him a nudge. “You’re not out. You just lost the element of surprise.”

Ben cracked a faint smile. “So what now?”

“Now?” Trev grinned. “Now we strategize.”

Greg leaned in, already serious. “We observe. We find patterns. We wait for the next opening.”

Ben glanced across the cafeteria again. Mel was laughing at something Jen had said.

“Okay,” he said. “Next time.”

Mel was halfway through a story about her sister’s failed attempt at baking banana bread when Britt cut in, eyes sparkling with a secret.

“Okay, okay, but pause… I have actual news.”

Jen raised an eyebrow. “Better than exploding banana bread?”

Britt leaned across the table, lowering her voice just enough to draw attention without whispering. “I think I have a thing for someone.”

Lisa perked up immediately. “Wait, who?”

Mel smiled, expecting another joke about upperclassmen or a soccer boy Britt thought was “mysterious.” But then Britt turned to her, grinning like she was about to drop a firecracker.

“Ben Rhodes.”

The smile slid off Mel’s face before she could catch it.

“Skater boy Ben?” Lisa asked. “From the vending machine table?”

“Yeah,” Britt said, totally unaware of the sudden stillness beside her. “He’s kinda cute in that laid-back, doesn’t-care way. I see him look over here all the time, and I swear he blushes. It’s adorable.”

Jen glanced at Mel, reading her like a book. Mel forced a laugh and took a long sip of her soda.

“Isn’t he a freshman?” Lisa asked, twisting her straw wrapper into knots.

“So?” Britt said. “So are we. It’s not like I’m declaring marriage or something.”

“I mean, he is kinda artsy. He’s in my art class. And English,” Jen said carefully, still watching Mel. “He’s got a vibe.”

“He totally has a vibe,” Britt agreed. “And I like it. I might, like, if the chance comes up, I don’t know… say something?”

Mel nodded like that was fine. Like it didn’t feel like her lunch had just tipped over in her lap and no one had seen it but her.

“Yeah,” she managed. “You should.”

Britt didn’t notice anything was off. She just kept talking, launching into some plan about how she might drop a compliment or make a joke next time he walked by. Mel smiled and nodded at the right moments, but her ears had gone a little fuzzy.

Because now everything felt complicated.

She hadn’t told anyone. Not even Jen. Not really. And now Britt liked him. And Britt liked big, loud, showy things. She wouldn’t wait. She’d go.

Mel stared down at her tray, suddenly realizing she hadn’t eaten much of anything.

Across the room, Ben was laughing at something, but he wasn’t looking their way.

Jen nudged her foot gently under the table. When Mel glanced at her, Jen gave her a look that said: Talk to me later. Mel felt sick to her stomach, but nodded at Jen.

The cafeteria was loud with the usual end-of-lunch chaos, people packing up, chairs scraping, trays clattering, but it all felt distant. Ben sat half-turned, the last of his cookie in hand, his eyes drifting across the room.

Mel was still at her table. Britt was in full performance mode, hands waving as she recounted some story, probably hilarious. Jen smiled politely. Mel nodded along, but her smile didn’t look as easy.

Ben stared just long enough to feel weird about it, then looked down at the table.

He should’ve said hi.

It wouldn’t have been that hard. Just Hey, or What’s up? She’d smiled at him. Really smiled. That wasn’t nothing. But he’d bailed. Played it safe. Again.

He went to take the last bite, then immediately tossed the cookie in disgust on the Trev’s tray for trash.

Across the cafeteria, Mel smoothed a wrinkle on her tray liner, eyes unfocused. Britt was still talking, but her voice had turned into background noise. Mel was stuck on one image: Ben’s face when he turned away.

It wasn’t embarrassment. It wasn’t even shyness. It was hesitation. Like he wanted to say something and didn’t. Like something had stopped him.

Maybe it had been Britt. Maybe it had been her.

She pushed a piece of lettuce across her plate with her fork. Why did it feel like everything had shifted? Like this wasn’t just about Ben anymore, but about who got there first.

She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to turn it into some race. But the second Britt had said his name, something had tightened inside her. Something she didn’t know how to explain, even to herself.

Across the room, Ben looked up again. For just a moment, Mel did too.

Their eyes met. Not a long look, not cinematic or slow-motion, but enough. Enough to feel it again, whatever it was. Enough to make both of them forget the people beside them.

Then someone called Ben’s name, and he turned.

Mel looked back down.

So many glances back and forth. Was she imagining it?

The noise of the end of lunch surged between them again, rushing over itself like overlapping waves. But somewhere beneath it all was an invisible line that neither of them knew how to cross.

The bell rang.

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        Click above to read the Liner Notes for this Chapter of In Between the Music!

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I started writing In Between the Music as a way to keep writer’s block from creeping in while working on the sequel to Hope Beyond Ash. What began as a side project quickly grew into its own story: a serial that surprised me by taking on a life of its own. Much of it is drawn from my own experiences back in the day. The awkwardness, the friendships, the moments that linger longer than they should… and writing it has given me a chance to revisit those feelings in a new way. At its heart, it’s something I hope my wife will read and enjoy (since she can’t stand Sci-Fi!), but it’s also become a space where I can explore characters, emotions, and moments differently than in my other writing.

If you are enjoying this story so far, please share it with your friends and anyone else that likes a good mix tape from 1987. Thanks again!