Compared to Santiago’s party on Friday, the rest of the weekend was relatively uneventful, well at least for Sonny it was. Marisol seemed to be avoiding him, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying. He didn’t really bother with contacting her throughout the weekend. She seemed to be mad at him for whatever reason. It wasn’t known to him, so why would he bother? Sometimes even the best friends had to be given their space. Even still, sonny was beginning to worry about Sol Jr. She wasn’t typically this silent on the communication front. Perhaps he should throw her a bone about something.
As he leaned back in his chair, counting down the three minutes that were left until lunch period, Sonny was going over a few things in his mind: what happened at the party and how a lot of things happened after the party. His mind did, however, seem to circle back and forth between that kiss with Victoire and how they were keeping it their little secret and Marisol’s sudden radio silence may or may not be related. He didn’t think it would be, or rather, he thought why would it even have to do with his kiss? She didn’t know about the kiss and there was no way Viccy would willingly tell anyone that she had been the one to kiss Sonny Drake. Even if she would spin it as him kissing her, the fact that someone reportedly ‘lower’ than her had gotten the best of her wasn’t something he knew Vic to allow to be found out. So, that wasn’t it.
So what could it-- The sound of the end period bell interrupted Sonny’s thought.
Gathering his bag, Sonny threw in his earbuds, letting the sounds of Metallica’s Master of Puppets block out everything that wasn’t James Hetfield’s epic voice. Soon, the teen wandered around the campus for a few minutes, making his way to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. Thankfully, he arrived just in time to snag his favorite slice of pizza: Hawaiian with extra pineapple. He never understood the hatred for this kind of pizza. It was severely underrated. Warm pineapple cooked into the mixture of cheese and ham, though the Canadians call it bacon for whatever reason. He knew the only kind of bacon that was true bacon was the cured pork belly.
He quickly scanned the quad, looking for the misfits. The last thing Sonny wanted to do was be tha tone loser who sat alone during lunch period. He wasn’t Elijah Abrams or some other schmuck that was often targeted by the resident douchebag, Kavi Salvador. And surprisingly, even he wasn’t around. He at least expected to see those two around. And what was even weirder, he didn’t see Marisol or the fairy spreading her unique cheer, Archer. Seriously, what gives? Sonny guessed he really was going to be that kind of loser that sat alone. “It is what it is, I guess,” he let out a sigh, taking a seat in one of the tables spread throughout the quad. It was far off from the usual suspects that often led the lazy teen to the point of annoyance. For their sake, they better not show their faces in his general direction. Yeah, Sonny’s looking at you, Jason and Santiago.