'I suppose it might be some sort of community outreach program.'

'Or it could be the first wave of a hostile invasion. That's conformity at its finest sitting in our hallowed halls.'

'And reading the sacred pen-carvings on your side of the table, as well.' Margaret sighed, holding the bridge of her nose. 'Cee, this is a cafeteria. That is a table. It is exactly the same as every other table in this room.'

'Except for the fact that it's where we sit, and we are charged with the sacred duty of saving it!' Cecilia replied, nervously shifting her backpack. She glanced back to the cafeteria doors, no doubt considering the benefits of escaping to the Media Center.

'We'll just have to save them another table.'

'But that will upset the delicate balance of the lunch room!'

Margaret guided Cee by the elbow to an empty table nearby. 'Isn't Justine a writer?'

'More of a poet, but what does that have to do with anything?'

'Writers need to be shaken up once in a while. Maybe she'll be inspired by the change of scenery.'

'All because of lunch room squatters?'

'People have written compelling stories about stupider things. As for your individuality, I'm sure it will survive the trip.'