Chapter 7: Ariana's Advice and Luna's Labyrinth

The cafeteria was a simmering cauldron of teenage angst and questionable hygiene, and I, Luna Love, was its resident dramatic protagonist, armed with a tray of suspiciously grey Salisbury steak and a healthy dose of existential dread. Jecka was supposed to be here, but she’d texted about some last-minute volunteering at the animal shelter – a noble pursuit that, frankly, sounded a lot like animal abuse given the general state of my life. I found an empty table near the overflowing trash cans, which, in a twisted way, felt like a fitting metaphor for my emotional state.

Suddenly, a voice that was both familiar and vaguely irritating cut through the din. “Luna? Is that really you?”

My stomach did a little flip-flop, not entirely unpleasant, but definitely unwelcome. I looked up, and there she was, Ariana. She was wearing a crisp, clean band t-shirt that looked like it had never been stained with spilled beer or questionable bodily fluids, and her hair, usually a vibrant, rebellious shade, was a sophisticated, understated auburn. She looked… adult. Like someone who paid her taxes and remembered to water her plants. It was frankly offensive.